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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Everything had turned on its heel once again. The trackhawks thundered the wrong way, toward the sietch rather than the enveloping barrens.
"You at least need your armor," Eidan whispered in her ear. "I am being too hasty, you should not fight in your condition."
Hawk knew that was true somewhere within her blood hungry soul. She oscillated between anger with herself for pushing Eidan forward and the pleasure of an oncoming opportunity to kill Harkonnen's. One of those emotions greatly outweighed the other as she saw the opening of the sietch.
Eidan veered toward the entrance with Caros shortly behind. They ducked to miss the low ceiling as the horses skittered to a halt at the entrance.
"Your armor and a weapon," he whispered to Hawk, and then turned to Caros, "Alert the others and free the horses."
His voice rose in the way that all generals tenors did. A command of power that did not require a collar to make the order fall correctly. Eidan was either channeling his status as a dukeling, or the Sacramenti. She wondered if there was even a difference between the two, if her status of high general could breed forth such a powerful prose as well. Gods knew, her body wasn't in a state to move armies alone.
Hawk lowered herself on the entrance rug and all but crawled to her chambers. Eidan thundered toward the armory, clinks of metal cascading over the high walls. She could taste the ghosts of them on her tongue as she crept, the blood, the steel and sweat.
"If we die, it's because of you," Caros said, jostling her shoulder as he swept past.
If we die, it's because of him, she wanted to correct.
Hawk found her armor in a neat pile aside the lambs skin. She fell to her knees and tightened the arm cuffs first, then the knee's and finally her waist plate. The heft of the scaled second skin was not typically more than a few pounds, it felt like tons in her state.
She fiddled with the straps before dropping them to the floor in favor of the boots. One lace took all of her willpower, and the other blackened her mind.
Hawk felt the stone on her stomach, the loss of vision, the blood in her mouth. "I'm not ready to go yet," she told the Atreidian that waited in the center of the room.
Evidently, it didn't matter if she was ready or not. Hawk opened her eyes a final time to see a breakbat poised on the rafters, eyes aglow and head cocked.
"Bastard," she muttered.
-
"Where is the high general?" Eidan asked Caros, climbing over the edge of the precipice and throwing his sword ahead of him. The thirty Alica that dwelled within their sietch thundered out into the night below.
