Slowburn | Enemies to lovers | dark romance | false prophets | Space Opera | triangle | strong femme characters | eventual Romance | Eventual smut |
A desperate Baron.
A yearning Duke.
A woman who weaves destruction with an army of fire.
In the m...
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The world was made for fighters and liars. A simple truth; one Hawk Devozanum knew above all. A beast that could not fight learned to lie, a liar that did it well made the most achieved of fighters.
The crack was the first indication that the world was ending. It was not the typical break of rock free from the moons surface; the burst was heavy enough to shake the palace spires and send dust coating her duvet. It echoed long after the initial plummet and resounded over the mountain peaks.
Hawk leapt from her bed and searched for axe out of instinct. Of course, she came up short. Her fathers weapon had been plunged into a false Harkonnen in the barrens. She gripped her sword instead. It did not fit as well in her palms, the weight unbalanced, but under enough duress any blade would do.
Hawk risked a look outside, through the hulking windows. Califenat still hovered, perfectly intact. Her rays dulled and bled into the horizon, dawn, hours too early and light too short. The crack was of fire, of brimstone and raging flame. It fell roughly two hundred clicks from the palace grounds, not a piece of the heavens, a missile. Another whistled down the dank darkness and plummeted into the courtyard gate. It seemed to come out of nowhere, destruction from an unseen force. Hawk knew better, only man could heave so much rage.
Hawk placed her ear to the cool glass and heard crying in the form of rumbles. It echoed over the cavern faces and belted across the pits, the moon that hung above was not dead, but she was all but begging for it.
Pointless, is what it felt like to place the shiny black scaled armor over her frame. From cuff to elbow plate, a complete set she hadn't worn for some time. It stuck to her skin as her fingers shook and forced the belts together. There were certain signs that one required full uniform; the caving of half the planet was certainly one of them.
The hallway was a frenzy of servants and house keepers huddled beneath the windows. They cooed and gasped, dropping sheets and ornate mugs to the floor. Tea splattered and gurgled into the cracks of stone. Girls mostly, young, not old enough to wed but plenty aware of the horrors of womanhood.
"Where is the family?" Hawk asked a guard that thundered past her.
"We're looking," he replied.
Looking, that certainly meant not inside of their chambers as they should have been. Hawk rubbed her chain as she walked toward the throne room, no order, no voice. They may very well have already been dead. She did not have innate urge to protect the Moritani's, but she did disprove of the blitzkrieg. Harkonnen, the emperor's army or any other organized side; there was no merit in it, many would die, her soldiers included.
Hawk swallowed her fear, exhaustion and reeling thoughts. She had come to a fork in the road, and all signs pointed to the death of both houses. Hawk Devodzanum was a liar, but she vowed to be a living one.
The throne room was empty save for soldiers and guards that scattered about in terror. Oliver strode down the dais with his eyes locked.
