╰┈➤ 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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"do you want to do some trespassing?"
armani glanced back from the training dummy she had been mutilating with her ax, her tanned skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat. she wiped her forehead self-consciously as she registered octavia, leaning against the wall of the facilities with a facile grace and a distinct air of mischief.
"you seem to be in a better mood." armani noted, earning a shrug from octavia as she straightened up, tossing her cousin a small towel to signify the end of her practice session.
"to a degree, yes."
octavia watched armani catch the towel, rubbing the perspiration off her shoulders and arms as she scrutinized her, considering the initial question. "what do you mean by 'trespassing'?"
"just a quick visit to the dungeons, nothing much." octavia replied, though the casual cadence of which she said it was not lost on armani, who raised an eyebrow.
"i'm in, sure, but why are we 'trespassing' on our own property? this is my father's palace after all, there isn't many areas we aren't allowed to go."
"exactly, however i want to pay a visit to my future husband's prisoners." she explained, waving her hand vaguely as she pressed a button on the wall, the doors sliding open for them to exit to the hall outside. armani's expression was unreadable, but she shrugged in a manner that indicated she saw nothing at fault with the notion.
octavia had taken to referring to paul atreides as her future husband to force herself into solace with the somber reality her life was to be subjected to, as well as allowing her a life-giving dosage of snark she could imbue into her words, a sarcastic notion that gave her some margin to express her disdain.
her mood was more cheerful, as although marriage was being shoved down her throat, she was still finding ways to entertain herself in such a mishap.
such as dungeon time.
the dungeons of the blackthorn estate were repulsively clean for somewhere that was typically used to house felons of every flavor, whether till death, or till execution. however due to the period of peace that their system was in, there were no real threats to their palace and sovereignty that called for high security human storage– so it was blissfully vacant.
stone bricks made up the architecture of the walls, a much darker atmosphere that seemed to be birthed from being underground, with patterns engraved into each one, and if you stood, back pressed to the wall, you would see that it read 'numquam videre lucem', a promise, if you were brought down there with foul intentions in mind, or painted on your hands.
