𝙈𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙔𝙍 || Feyd-Rautha

05 | Enclosure

CHAPTER FIVE
E N C L O S U R E

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The relentless pulsation of an insistent ache ensnares her senses, as if tiny tendrils of discomfort weave through the very fabric of her being, entwining themselves with the sinews of her thoughts. Each heartbeat reverberates within the confines of her skull, a symphony of throbbing insistence that refuses to relent with the passage of time.

The nights should have succumbed by now– but some restless, primal instinct seems eager them on. When she does sleep, she falls victim to shrouded images and estranged voices. They plague her with tormenting sweetness, bearing an uncanny particularity to them, that she finds herself unable to ignore. They linger like spectres, haunting the fringes of her waking thoughts, leaving an indelible imprint upon the canvas of her soul.

'Dreams are messages from the deep,' the Revenant Mothers would tell her, in their ceaselessly enigmatic ways.

But Allya has known about the implications of dreams her whole life.

And this is different.

Sitting in the solitude of her own unrest, she draws her knees closer to herself, seeking solace in the familiarity of her own embrace. If only she could find peace amidst the chaos that threatens to consume her. If only she could unravel the tangled threads of her consciousness and find respite in the sanctuary of her own mind.

But on a planet like this, tainted by its coarse and uncertain nature, such comforts are a rare thing.

Here, amidst the lifeless grain and brooding landscapes, the living quiver beneath the enormity of the black sun, their attempts at livelihood crumbling under the weight of a ruthless, unforgiving dominion.

She thinks of the rulers of Geidi Prime. The whiteness of their skin, and the black blood beneath.

Was ferocity hewn in their flesh? Does it manifest plainly?

Countless women, like threads woven into the tapestry of history, have been bound to the fate of this accursed family, their lives entangled in a web of duty and obligation. Wives. Mothers. Concubines. Many of whom were members of the sisterhood.

Is that all there is to this order? Allya wonders. To crossbreed, to pollinate, to pollute each passing bloodstream with prophecy and predicament?

'We all starve for different things', the na-baron had told her the day before, his voice heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

And yet, what do the Bene Gesserit starve for? Allya cannot bring herself to find an answer amidst the tangled maze of her thoughts.

The ways of the sisterhood are impure, she reminds herself. She has been taught to fight in spite of it, not because of it.

From an early age, she was moulded into submission. To search for, and aim for, and toil for a cause that knows no bounds. She had been considered a woman long before other girls her age had been– tethered and tainted, a child assured by the holiness of her obligations. Submission towards the wills of the sisterhood was an accepted sacrifice, marked into her flesh.

But with the promise of divine greatness resting like a shadow upon her frigid self– how could anything else be expected of her?

She never questioned the ascendancy of the reverend mothers.

There always existed something tepid and mothering in their cruelty, and Allya knows she will forever continue to pledge herself before them. Even when it hurts her to do so.