╰┈➤ 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;...
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"octavia."
a voice crackled to life on the intercom that sat on octavia's bedside, interrupting her blank eyed reveries as she stared up at the frescos on the ceilings, idly combing her fingers through lucky's sleek hair. they'd spent the morning ransacking the palace library for new materials to read; as lucky didn't have many books for her own enjoyment back on osrai, focusing more on textiles and her old piano (rest in pieces). up till now, they'd just been basking in the quiet comfort to regain their energy, masking the slight unsaid panic of the unknown disturbance from two days prior.
the taller of the two sat up, crawling over to grab the intercom with a sigh of effort. "yes, clarysse?"
"aunt clarysse." the voice corrected, tone terse and more firm than usual. "lord blackthorn is summoning a meeting. you are expected to be in attendance." octavia's eyebrows crept up, as she shared a look with lucky, who had sat up too.
it was not abnormal for octavia to be in attendance of formal talks, she'd been exposed to such from a young age; however with the events of the week thus far, her interest was sparked. maybe she'd actually get some answers– unlikely, but it was a hope, all the same.
"got it." octavia noted, sitting up on the sheets, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, her feet pressing to the cool carpet, in search for her sandals. there was a pause, before the voice started again.
"wear something presentable." clarysse had added, making it clear to be an order, not a mere suggestion. "sir lordue will escort you. do not attempt to leave on your own accord."
that was peculiar. she never needed amik, her bodyguard, to escort her in her own home– that just wasn't practical, unless he truly wanted to participate in little flower picking sessions when the rain finally ceased around noon, or painting in watercolour on old statues in the garden that no one really paid heed to anymore. when the rain came again, it would bleed the colours over the marble, like the sheen of mother of pearl.
"why–"
she was cut off by the beep of the intercom, signaling the severing of the call from the other end, and octavia frowned slightly.
"what was that about?" lucky questioned, giving her a look that was an accurate reflection of the mild state of confusion she personally had been sent into. "some sort of court meeting, i suppose." octavia replied, getting to her feet and wandering over to her closet to search for appropriate attire.
"so suddenly? aren't those things typically planned a week in advance, or something?" lucky inquired, at which octavia shook her head with a lightly derisive snort. "that, or my uncle will call meetings on a whim to discuss less pressing matters, such as summer jubilees, when the weather is less..."
