VI: Dinner and Diatribes
A formal meal was announced later that day. I'd been lounging around after being measured for new garments when the message came through. It addressed me directly. I was given instructions to dress formal.
As royal consort, decorum is paramount. As is your attendance.
Oh was it?
Was I a slave bent to his will?
Well, yes, but he'd made me a lady. A lady of House Harkonnen. I did not have to do as a mere slip of paper demanded.
When Vishti arrived later to help me dress, I sent them away.
They did not like it.
"No, my lady. Na-Barons will be very angry."
"If I am a lady, I'll start acting like one," I declared. "Now go. Don't be here when he comes looking. He'll kill you."
They held the pink robe dress meant for the dinner. "It is easy. Not take long." Dark wrinkled hands ran along the front. "So pretty."
"Vishti, leave. Now"
There was dismay in their eyes, but they bowed in their exit.
I was done with the whole charade! He won. The punishment was too much for me to withstand.
His game was won. I showed my limit, the limit he tried so hard to find. Now it was time for it to end.
Either my attendance does not matter so it is forgotten about, or he can release me from this prison as he wished.
But I was not an animal to be paraded around his hoity advisers and nobility as if some amusement for their entertainment. Dressed up in their garments as if I was a monster, same skin as they. It was an insult to who I was. It insulted every piece inside me.
Feyd was welcome to kill me now. I was not attending his pathetic pandering party.
I waited. Patiently.
Well, as patiently as I could pretend to be.
The time it took for the dinner to start was agony. It was wasted. My life could have ended and spared me the torture of the wait. Everything was torture. This planet, this place, this na-Baron.
If only I had been picked for slaughter as the other survivors had. I waited and waited. One by one, they were picked for demise while I remained trapped inside a prison. I listened to their screams. I heard the deaths in all squishy foul sounds they made.
One I saw with my very own eyes.
It was the last prisoner housed in the cell with me. A young mechanic, about fifteen or so. He had springy black curls with a pair of sharp grey eyes. We huddled together in those cold, dirty dungeons. The meager portions we were given split between us, evenly. I once vomited my portion, and he gave me his.
I'd not known him on the planet. Only in imprisonment had we met, but he became all I had at a time where I valued connections.
I lost him last of all. Before I was left alone to withstand the torture of wait in those dank dungeons.
The red river that ran from below the cell door that day still haunts me. I see it, some nights, in dreams.
Guards took him in the night. I'd tried to push them off, but they knocked me back. It was so hard that my vision went dark a moment and my head throbbed.
His sudden scream - the moment the door closed. It is etched in my mind.
I relive it - moments when I feel weak and weary. I remember what it means to die under Harkonnen rule.
Why I was forced to live with the names of fourteen people now deceased while I carried on with the memory of their brutal deaths fueled me forward in my mission. I was the last. Death was meant to me. Too soon, just the same as the ones who were stolen, killed for selfish reasons, or no reason at all.
A roar boomed down the hall. Thundering boots descended.
The doors of my chamber were wretched back so hard they hit the walls behind them.
Feyd stormed into the room. "You're late."
"I'm not going," I said flatly
"I do not dine without my full house and my full house has a lady."
"I'm not a real lady! None of this is real. I am a liar, a fake. This punishment has bested me. I lose. I am punished. I give up."
"Punishment?" Feyd spat. "You do not know the meaning of the word punishment!" He screamed it now. The very room filled with darkness. Glasses rattled. Impending violence surged through the air. Just as I wanted. "Not until you are forced to crawl on your hands and knees over to me, as I waited, naked, for you to suck my cock, do you know the meaning."
He stepped closer and I stepped back. "Not until you are forced so hard and long on my cock that you pass out as I laugh," the gravel in his voice was sharp and deep as a monster's, "do you have sense of what true punishment is."
My mouth fell open. A sharp twist pained my stomach.
Feyd heaved his breaths, controlling his anger. Perhaps the urge to slaughter me right where I stood.
I forced myself to not shatter with the weight of his words. They hanged in the air, unable to penetrate me.
This was what I planned; I wanted his rage at me.
Why was the reward not as I envisioned it? Why was there a small piece of me screaming in pain?
Pain was not mine. Pain did not feel me. I was numb to hurt. There was no home for it to pain me as I had nothing left that mattered.
Not even my life.
He stood with his hands on his hips. Eyes blared bright at me in accusation.
"If you will not come willingly," he said in a deathly low tone, "you will come by force."
My eyes widened to see the scene that I was too slow to stop: Feyd bent over and latched onto my ankle. His grip clamped so tight that I bit my lip to restrain my yelp. I fell to the floor. My skirts pulled up around my thighs. Instead of fighting off his hold as he dragged me through the palace, I shielded myself from my panties being the spotlight for everyone to see.
"Please, na-Baron. Please!" I barked in anger.
My empty pleads fell on an emptier heart.
A giant black boot kicked through the main dining hall doors. The force made the ancient hinges groan from their disuse.
The table was set with all the places. Three glasses sat beside every plate. A spread of confusing utensils, too, glinted against the warm glow of floating candlelight.
It was elegant, even for a Harkonnen affair. The palace was cleaned. There was a lack of sandy grit overtop the floors that felt very formal.
Feyd's many guests stood and gawked as I was dragged to the head of the table. The monster schmoozed his other nobles with a joke about 'cat and mouse' games. My body was dropped into a seat on his left. A rumble of amusement ran throughout the table. Across my seat sat the famed Captain Rurik. His lips curled to a cruel grin with the wave of laughter at my entrance.
I gritted my teeth, unwilling to allow their enjoyment of my suffering degrade me. It took me a while, but I found my monster skin again.
"Wine, Lady Witch?" A server finally asked.
My eyes flashed toward na-Baron's high seat. "I'd love some."
Feyd smacked his lips. A coy smile downturned as I waved the server fill my glass to the very top.
Blood red wine did not curl my stomach. I only hoped it would create a scene he'd regret.
Why was I the one tortured by his games when I could create some games of my own?
A noble's wife, Lady Semenova, chatted in my ear about the new planet as I drained one glass, then two. She scoffed at the heat and the opposite waking schedule than she was used to. Then there were the water restrictions.
"The locals. They smell so awful. Now I am supposed to stink like the desert people? No bathing. What horrid planet have we come?"
I chugged another glass to rid myself of the entitlement all these nobles had.
Na-Baron told the server to quit pouring my wine. I watched him murmur the order.
It would not stop me. I reached over and stole the captain's glass, still full of the dark wine.
The man with a scarred eye leaned back in his seat and chuckled.
I hoped that Feyd would be irritated by my actions, but they still went unacknowledged.
"Few days," the captain grumbled with a cheer in his tone, "Few days, we will do this at Rabban's table."
A flicker of amusement twitched at Feyd's mouth. "We need more time to observe. Get ahold of the problem areas before he tries to hide them."
"It is a wonder," a voice came deeper from the table. "How our arrival has not been graced with The Beast's greetings."
"My uncle hid our arrival. It was left to me to seize things when the time comes." He turned to his captain who sat at his right. "I need all the information there is. Have some men go to Carthag. Infiltrate. Pay spies. Do what they can to find me all there is on Rabban."
Glossu Rabban lived at the Castle Harkonnen long ago. I heard stories of him. The ease of his temper and the physical size of his body led to bloody scenes that were not yet washed off the walls. Smashed skulls with brains spilled out, mostly.
The Beast, as they called him here, suited his reputation.
More troubling was that he was blooded to Feyd-Rautha.
I considered them both monsters, but the way they spoke of Rabban compared to Feyd set my stomach in strange knots.
My actions at the dinner slowed. My sipping of my (last) glass of wine simmered as the warmth of the alcohol swam inside my head. It worked stronger than expected.
My body moved in waves. Fingers doubled and wobbled as I reached for my water.
The small glass tipped onto the table's cloth. I scrambled to rectify my mistake, then laughter filled my mouth instead.
Captain Rurik stopped his speech to stare at me. As did many others at the table.
Their confused stares only made my giggles worse. I enjoyed the change in pace, for once, it was not me left wide-eyed at table behavior.
The scarred eye on half of Captain Rurik's face trembled as he tried to stare wider. I swallowed the giggles - they still shook my chest - when I met his gaze.
"Something wrong, Captain?" A giggle slipped out at the end.
The big man shifted in his chair. He caught a glimpse of his na-Baron before he faced me.
I did not look to Feyd for anything. Not even fear I'd insulted him.
"Forgive me, my lady. I did not know you held humor," he explained.
"Only when something is funny. Tell me." My elbows thudded against the table. I clasped my hands together and supported my chin to keep his face from blurring. "Are you funny?"
An undercurrent of murmuring coursed the table.
The captain was not intimated by my question. He faced larger dangers than a pathetic slave of Feyd's.
His chest grew his size; he pulled his shoulders tall. "Of course, my lady. I am a fountain of humor."
"Humor me."
He gave pause. "My lady?"
I ran my tongue along the bottom edge of my teeth. "All these chats of worms and spice bore a simple woman like me. You say you are funny. So, humor me."
"I would not know what humors a woman such as yourself."
He motioned toward me like it explained his response. It did for some, as I heard a few laughs from down the line.
My eyes stayed focused on him. "What kind of woman am I?" He made no addition to his statement. I pressed harder, stronger in my tone. "You say my type is not amused by humor. So, Captain Rurik, what type of woman am I?"
The man bristled. "A paid one."
Lady Semenova dropped her fork. It clanged hard against her dessert plate.
"Paid," I repeated flatly.
"Da. Paid. You wear fancy clothes and fluttering scarves and parade yourself with pride. Your servants fetch you exotic food all day long. They bring you spoils, hand crafted dresses while denying your obligations to House and crown."
The soft consensus of the table mumbled in agreement.
The bubbly wine cheer popped. My amusement dropped away. All there was left to fill its place was rage.
"You're right," I said to his surprise. "I am a paid woman."
My chair screeched against the floor as I stood suddenly. The table jumped. Soldiers tensed and poised at the ready by my outbursts as the nobles sat, dumbfounded with their regal, idiotic expressions.
I curled my hand around a steak knife. "These fancy clothes. They are all I am, are they not?"
The sound of my voice now echoed.
The corner of my eye caught Feyd's shift in his seat as the knife showed to light. I raised it to my arms.
The knife was too dull to slice perfectly through. It made ragged rips and tears as I sliced the beautiful gown to nothing but strips of elegance. There were times my force was too strong. Small nicks from the blade now stained the dress, too.
"Now." I slammed the knife back down to my place setting. The glasses rattled under my power. My own blood dripped to the table's surface without care that it dirtied their fine linens. "I am just the woman for you. Humor me."
The captain looked more than ready to meet my challenge. Half of his face lifted in a scarred snarl.
Feyd-Rathua stood very suddenly. "Dessert is cancelled. Everyone get out." The answering silence did not blossom in amusement, but in fear as Feyd's announcement brought concern of what deviancy would ensue.
He loudly stepped from his seat. The heavy echo of footfall a surrounding thunder.
Deep dark eyes found mine. "My appetites changed."
A quiver of excitement coursed through my center to the delighted warmth. The dark call of his power in the room called out to my lust as a vibration through the sand called the worms.
I could not explain the flush of my flesh as he asked me to follow him. The whole of the hall was left behind our backs as we exited the doors he dragged me through a short while before.
A smile twisted my face before I trained it stoic.
Ha. Finally, a little fun with these Harkonnen monsters.
Feyd walked me back to my quarters. He held the door for me to pass through.
"If na-Baron wishes to punish me, right here is as good as any spot."
The door lock engaged.
Fingers slipped through my hair to my scalp. They gripped me so hard that I twisted back against his chest in one motion of his muscular arms. Greedy full lips pressed into my mouth. The whole of his tongue thrust inside, without wait or care.
He pressed into me. The whole of his erection jutted into my side.
"You confuse me, na-Baron," I murmured through our kiss.
His hands released my head. They roamed the length of my body through the tears of the dress. Urgent but gentle touch swirled around my belly up to the softness of my chest.
"You confuse me," he answered back.
For reasons I was not quite sure of, it made me laugh.
Feyd pulled away just enough to examine my face. He watched the amusement fall away from my features, awash in the way it toyed with me.
My strength was nothing to the combined forces of lust and wine.
"Can you do that when I take you?" He asked.
My brows pressed together. "What?"
"Smile."
My tongue tied itself from all the giggles and uncertainty. I nodded emphatically.
Feyd walked me backward toward the bed. The frame pressed at the back of my knees in a building pressure as he kissed deeper and deeper into the embrace. An arm wrapped around my back with a handful of my ass clutched tightly.
I struggled to withdraw from the sex as I normally did. My body wanted it. It acted so fast that thinking better came too late.
"You taste like dessert."
My mere observation of his chocolate coffeecake flavor was not taken as such.
Feyd grinned and lightly bit my bottom lip. "You have that backwards, my sweetness. You taste like my dessert."
He pushed me suddenly to the bed and dined on me like he'd forgone the meal.
I wiggled, moaned, and dug my nails into mattress as he made me cum.
My mouth hung open as I breathed through the brilliant high he'd brought me to. Wine made it all better. I felt on fire.
Feyd ran his tongue along the lines of my stomach and arms where I'd cut my skin. He savored the tastes of me before he climbed higher.
I released my fingers from the sheets. It caught beneath my nails, ripping threads. I winced at the sound.
His eyes examined the holes.
"I hurt the sheets," I murmured.
"The sheets." He slipped two of my fingers through his lips. Slippery warmth moved beneath them as his tongue swirled.
I laid transfixed by the sight. He watched me watch him. The air, hot and sticky against our skin.
"It should be my skin with your marks."
"Na-baron?"
"I want to be marked with your nails." The raspy voice sent lightning down my center straight to my already hot pussy. "Cut me." He placed my hands upon his wide toned shoulders. "Don't stop until I have you satisfied."
I looked through my lashes at his awaiting face. There was a softness in his face that felt home to me, in this faraway place full of strangers and danger. He was one place I knew.
My nails tightened against his shoulders. A flicker of a smile ghosted along my lips before I was lost to my mounting lust. "You always leave me satisfied, na-Baron."
The well-muscled monster above me trembled. Breath caught in his chest.
Feyd thrust inside me with greed and did not stop until the late hours of the day. Deep lines crossed his flesh from where each finger of mine scraped against him. Smeared blood stained his milky flesh.
He fell into the blankets in exhaustion. The damage I caused him was full in sight.
It soured my stomach. "Does that hurt, na-Baron?" I asked, almost horrified that I'd done that in moments of delirious bliss.
"Yes." His voice was muffled against the pillow.
My fingers traced along lines. Lost in the inflammation of our recent tangle were minuscule ridges of many thin cuts healed long ago.
I frowned. "I am sorry."
He turned, cautious in his appraisal of me. "Pain is the only pleasure there is."
A weight pressed against my chest.
"Is that why you killed them? Your harem. Their pain was the only pleasure."
Feyd settled onto his belly once more. His face stared out at the wall.
I expected the conversation to end there.
"It was not done for pleasure," he finally revealed.
Darkness now cloaked us. The shades of the windows were at full strength. The lights were dimmed to black.
We were nothing but monsters in the empty.
"The Baron ordered they be slaughtered by my own hand."
Bubbly warmth of the wine was worn off. Awareness of self returned. I felt the ice cold sourced at the back of my arms.
"The Baron has reasons for his actions."
I released a shaky breath from my lips to avoid his notice.
"I tried to kill him," Feyd said swiftly. I felt the air of the room change. "That is why they were killed."
"Kill your uncle. You risk your life for a man who leaves you everything, na-Baron? He will die on his own."
"He's not dying fast enough."
I sighed. My chin fell against his shoulder blade. I needed some warmth. It did not matter that it was this monster below me. If not him, then it was another. Why not Feyd?
"You confuse me."
We sat in that silent still for many long minutes. I did not drift off. He did not either. The subtle movements of his body were alive and very aware.
"I stitched the needle in the slave's thigh where I knew he would touch. I knew he would. The poison would have killed him. It would have worked."
I nodded, though he could not see. The dark hid our devastation. For I could not see the regret of his failure, and he could not see the well of sadness that bubbled in my eyes.
Feyd slept a couple hours, rousing in the still early hours of our assimilated waking hours. His tongue tasted of sweetness as it awoke me from my slumber. It took great strength to lift the weight of my eyelids.
"Na-Baron?" I mumbled.
The deep rumble of his voice bid me back to bed. I rolled back over on my side half asleep before I touched the pillow.
It was much later when Vishti delivered breakfast. They were quieter this time. Perhaps they worried about my health since the night before was a deadly act to do. I was sore from last night's events, but it was not in places a typical punishment battered.
Vishti came beside me. Smooth warm hands touched my forehead. "How is my lady? I have brought relievers and relaxers. It will help. A good massage, too, eases the bruises. Come, let Vishti see."
"Na-Baron did not hurt me."
"You not punished?"
"No."
"Then why you still in bed? Wallah!" Their hands went up. "Your first meal warms."
It was in a better mood that I ate today. Less tension filled me now that I'd gotten some of my anger out at supper. However, Vishti now groaned about me in their native tongue. Probably about the mess. Feyd and I were a mess in our -my - drunken tangles. Frayed shreds of last night's gown scattered the room.
"Na-Baron nice, yes?"
I snorted. "I would not consider him nice." I thought a moment. "He chooses violence in other forms when need be."
"He does not hit, lady."
If only violence was just physical.
I believed Feyd-Rautha did not want me dead. Not at the moment, at least. I fulfilled a need that he did not seek to fill elsewhere.
Then I thought back to what he said, about being ordered to kill his harem.
There were many ways that violence was not seen, done by hands unseen.
My throat swallowed a thicker chunk of memory down for later. All I knew was that I was all Feyd had now. And if he should fail in his attempt to govern Arrakis as The Baron ordered, there was a chance I'd be ordered dead, too.
I want death. Not at the control of that disgusting blob of a man known as The Baron.
"Fetch Aishti," I said.
Vishti turned. "My lady?"
"Get her before I change my mind."
They rushed off to find the woman as I found a comfortable pair of pants to practice in.
Aishti appeared in the same hall as before looking similar but not the same as the day before. She wore the same low sweeping skirts that made me concerned for her.
Her concern was me. I moved like a bloated carcass.
Ways she bent did not bend on me. She used her hands to direct my motions in every joint in a way that made me question if I knew how to use my own body correctly.
"No, lady. Like this."
"That's what I am doing," I fumed.
"It is not," Aishti corrected.
"I thought I was."
It was many hours of being taught rhythmic motions of the dance before I had to quit. My head spun like a top. A sheen coated my skin like a sticky layer. I turned on the shower to clean my body when Vishti found me in a panic.
"Na-Baron calls, my lady."
"Now?"
"He says I wish to see my lady now," Vishti reported.
They helped me powder myself dry and fetch an appropriate dress. It was pink cotton. The air moved through the fibers to dry me further as I walked to Feyd's office.
Feyd sat behind his desk, examining schematics, when I found him. The office doors showed an intense focus on his face.
The nature of his ascension over Arrakis was unbeknownst to me. What he was here to achieve, I had no notion. But the way he absorbed the work around him felt important. The risk he'd taken by coming here was severe if it meant he had stopped his playboy ways to work.
It weighed heavy against me - a fact I detested. I felt the strain that coursed through him as he worked. I depended upon his success here, too.
So, I felt guilt when I disturbed the concentration.
"I can come back." I eyed the books on his table. They were open with their readings paused.
"I called for you, my lady witch." He pulled me down to his lap. "I want you here."
"How can I help, na-Baron?"
"Sit here and learn," he instructed. "I find my mind wanders when I have to read too many of these. There are too fuckin' many." The stacks around the room were extensive. "This planet is a hot bed of discourse. I need years to catch up on it all."
The booklets explained what little was known of Fremen peoples. It was in Harkonnen fashion: demeaning and cruel. Beyond the words, there was an interesting revelation of the deep desert out in the open sands.
I listened to the narrator while I sat astride Feyd's leg. He held my hips as if he thought I'd fall from the height of his knee.
There came a point where his attention waned.
"Are these the people you rule over?" I asked to refocus his thoughts.
"Technically." He sighed. "They do not bow to our control, so they remain exiled in the desert. By choice. They have no use for the spice like we do."
Attitudes surrounding Fremen in the meetings I attended was less than humane. The Harkonnens regarded them as animals.
"You are here to exterminate them."
"Only the ones who disrupt harvest." The feeling of fingers caressed the fabric of my dress skirts. "They have a leader, Maud'Dib. Whoever they are has incited the Fremen's belief they own the planet. They are tanking our spice production. Attacks on our equipment have destroyed many loads destined to be sold. The Baron needs spice. It fuels the Imperium."
"Maud'Dib," I murmured to myself.
What a strange name.
The booklet narration ended. It flipped shut at its conclusion.
Feyd sighed and reached for another one. His focus remained steady for a short while before other things took over his mind. His hands slid further down my thighs.
"I should leave. I am another distraction."
"No," he rasped. He pulled me higher on his lap. My back pressed against his chest. The strength his hands held into my thighs, bunching my dress. "Your na-Baron commands you stay."
The matter dropped away. He settled.
Over time, I relaxed into him. My head rested against his shoulder as I reclined further into the embrace.
The hold of my thighs only deepened to the inner flesh. A thumb swirled there lightly.
He shifted under me. I felt the strange heat turn the air.
I flicked my eyes up to his and caught them staring back at me.
The split in that monster was so human-like that I lost myself in it.
I laced my fingers between his. He slowly moved his lips to mine.
The kiss was so gentle and tender that it felt the most intimate thing we'd ever done.
It was so intense and personal that I jumped when a knock interrupted the space. I tried my stand, far away from him, but he kept me grasped in his lap.
"What is it?" Feyd called out.
"Your lunch, na-Baron," a timid voice answered.
"Bring another for my lady."
"Yes, na-Baron."
He shuffled off to fetch my meal. It left us alone but in an awkward tension.
Feyd felt it, too. He set aside the spent books and played another. The hold on my thighs lessened, back to the sides gently until the next knock disturbed again.
An expansive show appeared on a tray. The frightened servant boasted it for his master's approval. The weight shook his arms.
The na-Baron nodded his approval.
The servant was relieved. He exhaled gently. "Any more, na-Baron?"
Feyd looked to me. "What does the lady desire? Ask anything. You may have it."
The corners of my mouth toyed upward. "I am satisfied, na-Baron."
For once, his smile did not harshly cut me to nothing.
We ate in a serene calm that felt unnatural. It was the pair of us, alone, doing nothing but listening to briefs and books and schematics of equipment. The stimulation of the topics was low. At times, I caught my mind wandering and knew his was, too. I would try to ask a question or move so he adjusted back to the moment.
Feyd then had to report for training with his soldiers. He gave a slight bow of his head before he turned and fled.
Bubbles filled my belly. It rose up my chest down the backs of my arms. I felt my lips pulling to a smile as I replayed the events.
I savored my shower. It rinsed away the smells I was aware of on myself. The soaps and oils rid it from my mind.
My chambers had a den with a lovely settee. There was a door off the side. It led out onto a balcony that appraised the distance with the glow of the city as a light to the desert.
Hot winds breathed. It ran through my cool silken jumpsuit with a properly fitted top. My feet were bare. The warmth of the stone floor crawled upward.
The desert was not quiet in the dark. It imposed a larger threat with its swallowing density.
I stared off at the wilderness as it stretched far beyond how my mind comprehended. The vastness of a world coated in sand, like a beach. An entire place of naught but grit and heat.
Even the palace was a grand design larger than life.
My eyes traveled the reinforced walls of the palace down to the sandy ground below.
The glow of a single light in deep night sat near the ground. I strained my eyes to see what it marked. My memory of the palace grounds was new, but I did not recall any notable place so near.
I bent lower to aid my squint through the black.
A shadow from the glow caught my notice. It swung. Like a body.
Oh!
My feet carried me on quick steps down the many stairs to the ground. I knew I neared an exit when the air grew hotter still.
I opened a column of darkness. The grounds were barely lit. The ray of light suddenly moved toward my sound.
It was a guard. They wore the armor of all the Harkonnen soldiers. "My lady," a voice said out in the darkness.
My stomach twisted distastefully. I found my eyes glancing behind the guards back.
"What are you doing out here?" I asked.
"There is nothing for my lady in this night. You should return to the safety of Arrakeen palace."
I glanced up at the mighty walls behind my back. Arrakeen. It had a name.
"I saw something," I said. "Over there."
I pointed.
The guard turned just enough to show his light to the tall pole that swung with a grown man attached by a single arm.
The man was large. A single arm supported his whole weight with his feet many feet above the ground.
He wore a black suit as all the other guards did.
"Oh." I betrayed a sound.
The wind blew stronger still. It turned the body back around to show a round face with a disfigured eye, scarred and jagged.
"That is Captain Rurik, guard. You can't do that. He is na-Baron's right hand. Take him down. It will be your head for this!"
The guard blocked my path.
"Did you hear what I said?" I repeated. "This will be your death if you don't make it right."
"Captain Rurik is under orders, my lady. He is to hang there until first light."
He did not fight as he hanged there. Nor did he call out for help.
"But why?"
"Return inside," the guard directed. "There is no place for you out here."
My mind wiped. I was lost inside myself as I wandered back through the palace halls. No one approached to correct my path, so I continued.
Deeper in the palace were royal training rooms. I'd heard Feyd ask about them.
They showed expansive armored rooms through their glass doors. Many suited different types of skills. Each held a select set of equipment that aided in refinement.
A larger room was at the end of the hall. Noises echoed. There were many within the room. "Again," boomed through the air.
It was my body that responded to it like an instinct.
Metallic clangs of swords vibrated. The grunts of motion, effort, rebuffs, followed in their rhythm.
Feyd stood center of the room without a shirt, or armor. A surge of men from both sides lunged forward with attacks from their blades. He pulled two swords from his side. The motion was a flurry of blurred movement. He worked fast.
His legs kicked back the men he bested in duel. More came. Turn after turn, more men attacked him with all they could. Some pulled out hidden daggers to attack him closer.
He saw everything. He bested them all.
Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was impossible to catch off guard.
I watched them all cease attacking before he demanded pause. The men asked for water. Feyd waved his hands for them to rest.
There was a pause where nothing happened. I thought I'd missed something. Then, from a darkened doorway at the end of the room, emerged a handful of slaves to replenish them. They held bottles of drinks and food.
Their bodies were scantily clad as the ones Feyd had once had. Just simple strips of cloth to cover - not fully - their bits.
One approached Feyd with a large glass bottle of clear liquid. They tilted it and poured it directly into his mouth. Water dribbled from the corners of his mouth as he drank his fill.
An instant souring of my stomach came. I clutched it against myself as I marched back to my own chambers. I let my feet stomp harder against their precious stone floors.