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 planet Nimic Homeworld of the Galicine Army of the Alican empire
On the cold front of a winter storm, children are born on the precipice of war. They came crawling from the depths of a rampant flame, not babes ready to nurse but fully grown beings with a hunger untethered. No cries harkened into the cold dark night to shift the journeys of falling snow. They simply appeared, where there was nothing, the Galicine rose.
War was never done, it hung like a noose around the necks of every man that piled out of the triangular warcraft stolen from the Corrino's. Eidan could call them to battle at any moment, and he had, on more than one occasion.
The Fenrings failed to kneel first, and they were met with swift fire. Ginaz bowed, while Halleck broke. The Atreidian's wanted nothing to do with any of it, laying down their swords in exchange for a pardon.
It was easier after so much practice, harder only in the night when the graywolves called down the pines and Hawk returned to Nimic to bandage her wounds. She laid beneath the canopy of greenery, a cold front pricking at her temples.
Apathy, or a failure to confront anything but bloodshed, had driven her to the edge of the forest in search of a bramble to pick from. The berries didn't taste sweet on her tongue, not like revenge had. They tasted like childhood, like betrayal after betrayal, and the ashes of her father floating in the wind.
War was never over, because it plagued at her mind when Eidan was on Kaitan. He evaded the presence of his mother, left to pick up the pieces of Grumman with only the company of a handful of Alica that had stayed. Hawk had ensured Eidan that it was a bad idea to allow her the company of anyone at all, lest she carve out further prophecies.
Eidan had ensured her, that to be mostly alone was prison enough. He was good that way, tempered and forgiving. Wickedness only shone through his icy eyes when his hold on the order was questioned, growing soft at the bow of each decimated house.
They greeted each other with open arms, when duty called for it. A wife, a husband, an emperor and his bloodied right hand. Domestic bliss was beneath them, and wholly unmodern.
Night terrors did not wrack him, his hands steady with a flow of constant knowledge and patience. They did not wrack Hawk either, only composed of visions of women that whispered secrets, and spoke of something greater.
That greater force harbored itself in her gut, pulled her to action and made every win feel like a minor step. To which direction the end lay, she could not tell. She followed the path laid out for her, killing when killing called, dreaming when dreams were the only solace.
The worlds were bridged with each pass of day, planets freed and creatures unshackled. It should have been enough to be part of it, but Hawk had plenty of self awareness to understand that the cavity in her chest would only be filled by the eventual sword that thrust through it.
For the time being, being questionably good, would have to do.
A blue hawk called down the limbs of the tree nearest to her, the one where Mikel Tarrat's ashes had been scooped and buried. The blackness of his planetary remains had waited for her return, holding to the snow pack and uncovered to relinquish what was left of his armor.
Funeral rites were pointless on Nimic, beyond a fire walk. Hawk had spent plenty of time on Grumman to know that death was merely a beginning, but laying Mikel to a final rest felt necessary.
War was never done, because the night on Nimic was lighter than any other homeworld. The six moons cast a constant glow over the pallid scenery at all hours. The unnamed watchers looked upon her with a mix of pride and disdain. They illuminated the drop of a needle pin vessel as it took to the courtyard of the ivory palace, a welcoming party, or foe, that was still entirely up for debate.
"Of all the options, all of the forgotten worlds and stolen planets," Feyd said, cracking his knuckles as he fended off a chill, "You would choose to harbor the coldest one of them all."
Hawk cocked her head at the Baron, at his flesh exposed to the elements outside of a protective vest. If she stared long enough, she could almost make out the wound on his chest that continuously broke open from lack of rest.
Giedi Prime was closer to Kaitan than Nimic. A slight tint had forced it's way on to his shoulders. Another visit with Eidan must have occurred. It was not comforting to know that they existed in each others presence when she was not around to mediate, but that was merely a product of paranoia.
"I do aim to be as inconveniencing as possible," Hawk replied.
Eidan needed Giedi Prime, nearly as much as he needed the Galicine. Three cogs in a machine that ground themselves against each other and kept dissemination and the laws of the new world moving.
"I think I will stay for a time. If that is alright?" Feyd said.
"How chivalrous," Hawk trailed her lips over his throat, "You rarely ever ask beforehand."
