╰┈➤ paul atreides x oc
❝ do you always try to murder your suitors? ❞
❝ maybe. ❞
☄. *. ⋆ in which octavia blackthorn's peace is relatively interrupted by the brink of holy war.
---- completed on ; ???
---- published on ; 25/03/24
empire - featuring;...
❝ everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears ❞
↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
the fall of house elowen was swift.
no one paid it much heed, the shifting of power happened overnight, and questions were met by a void of silence. politics were a messy ordeal, as pride often preceded logic, ending reigns in murders and bitter words rather than simple, peaceful abdication.
the empire accepted their new leader without much hassle; after all, 500 years of peace was a good discourager of uprisings– why would reimmersion into war have any benefits? a new reigning lord was not a cause for fuss. why?
because of fear.
the hermanthium system liked their peace. they liked the lack of meddling from the imperium, sinking into relative obscurity outside the known universe, in a sheltered bubble surrounded by gargantuan force fields to keep everything, and everyone, out. just a cluster of seven planets around a small star, a testament to what remained after warlords had been eradicated from their society.
the only souls who knew intimately of the fall of house elowen were those within the palace walls. they were the only souls who could thread together events into the messy reality of it all– no one was safe from harm, even the noble, powerful, and beloved.
octavia had been twelve years old when her father was framed. well, framed was a delicate word, as whoever held the power also conducted the truth; so for the sake of storytelling, she would simply rephrase.
ocatvia had been twelve years old when her father committed a political murder, the murder of his younger brother.
even as a child, as her little brother sobbed, clinging to her waist like a lifeline, there was a certain measure of unease as she watched her mother and father get escorted to the chamber. the sorrowful expression on her uncle's face seemed veneered over some other emotion, one which she could not place. everything had felt wrong.
she never saw her parents again, after that.
overnight, lord elowen had been replaced by his wife's brother, lord blackthorn. octavia elowen had become octavia blackthorn. all paintings of her, her brother, and her parents had been stored away in the vaults, a subtle erasure that allowed for the erection of other paintings, other artworks that portrayed the new era.
her brother had vanished soon after.
it was a blur, octavia's childhood. court training, verbal abuses from her aunt, sparring with her cousins when eyes were not on them, but one thing remained for certain in her mind from the many hours she spent observing the court from a small chair behind her uncle's throne.
politics were a topic she never wanted to find herself entangled again.
but what you want does not really matter, after all. the needs of your people, your society, always come first.
