XXIX: SurvivorsTrigger warning: pregnancy related health scare/loss
The dueling arena was makeshift. The walls were the bodies of onlookers. They all wore their best attire with the possiblity it would be stained in blood.
When I imagined the duels, Feyd would not particpiate. They would be done in honor. Without death.
Feyd bastardized my vision for his own purpose.
My body neared the front where only a few stood. The Baron remained in his high seat. The machine whirred still, even as he sat still. The swollen greed of the Baron's dead dark eyes turned my stomach harder in place. Trickles of hot disgust slicked against my tongue.
"There is one here who has been proclaimed to be a talented dueler, same as me," Feyd proclaimed. He wore minimal gear. Something clouded his mind. Alochol? He was too eager. His steps moved back and forth, pacing like a caged animal, in the center of the entirity of his court. "Seems only fair he show himself and prove it!"
I caught a large shadow in the corner of my eye. Rabban moved along the outer edge of the arena, toward my position at the front of the room.
He dared not show his face since Feyd defeated him in a duel. The limp in his gait was drastic. The floor vibrated with each staggered step.
Every aspect of the moment closed in.
The Baron's court had not forgotten us here. It'd descended. It reminded Feyd of who he had to be, not who he wanted.
The animal I'd grown fond of disappeared in front of these black-blooded monsters.
Hate. Hot raging hate filled my veins. It pulled from my control. Juicy tears pounded at the backs of my eyes to be allowed entrance. The clench in my body responded in revolt, too.
Feel us. Show us. We are here.
My hate for Feyd slowly grew. I burned from the inside out, thanks to him! If he'd continued to use me as a toy, never wishing me to favor him, i would not ache as i did.
"He will not show his face?" Feyd put up both his arms. "Fine. I will call for him myself! Faheem! Harun! Face me now."
I blinked away my shock.
Harun? He was kind and gentle. None had said he was a fierce swordsman.
The air of my chest burned as it escaped my lips.
The crowd parted. Harun stepped forth with his dignity intact. He did not show fear. His palm placed against his chest with a small tilt of his head. "Na-Baron honors me."
What? No!
No, he does not honor you! He will kill you!
Feyd chuckled. All too pleased he turned his back on his challenger. His eyes struck straight with mine. A click of his jaw showed rage buried within that pleasure. He knew it, too, what I felt was betrayal at his actions. It was plain through my face. He read me so easily. It made him all the more eager to end Harun as he stood.
"They tell me you know a blade," Feyd said loud enough for Harun to hear.
His traitorous fingers ran along the underside of my jaw.
"They flatter me," Harun replied.
Declaring outright that it was a lie would insult Feyd. Harun was no idiot. He had to play along with Feyd's haunted game.
The trickery.
It was low.
He moved with cunning through the courses of our social requirements. The Baron's attendance forced us compliant in our positions beneath Feyd's title. We all had our parts to play, if we wanted to still draw breath.
The Baron encouraged Feyd's sensitivity to disrespect to a fatal end. Every time.
I would cry this night. I already knew.
"My lady declares it is impressive." The words dropped my stomach even lower. I said no such thing. My eyes glared at his wicked charm until he turned his back on me. "I must see this ferocity for my own. Come. Draw your blades and show me what you can. I bore of watching others fail to be fierce in my honor. I'll take some sport of my own."
Nabil stood at his brother's side. I'd not realized he accepted his invitation as well.
"Na-Baron Harkonnen gives honor to my brother. I must insist it is given to me instead," Nabil declared. "I will meet blades with you."
Feyd smirked. The shake of his head fell their faces.
"I want a worthy challenger, Faheem Nabil. Your brother is the one, from what I hear."
Nabil murmured against his brother's ear. I yearned to know what last parting words could be said. A wishing of luck, a declaration of brotherly love? Did he give him tips on how to defeat this monster before them?
"I accept your challenge," Harun said.
Feyd growled in satisfaction. "Bring your blades. Take your place."
Nabil pulled a long slender sword from his side. He slipped it into his brother's open hand.
His lonely steps were like screams in my mind. He took his place opposite Feyd. The final pounding of his heart before it was pierced straight through. I memorized each motions as if it was his last. Because it was. Feyd never left any alive.
The Baron and Rabban would watch on as they finally claimed Feyd's soul as their own. The war, lost.
There was no hope that Feyd would survive this family to come out a good man. Not a good man ever drew breath in this bloodline. Nothing but destruction, desicration, death.
More severe my body burned in all over pain. I wished to curl over to scream it out. Still, I had to keep standing. I could not tear my eyes away from the last death I would endure as the love of my life inflicted it. There would be none left. Nothing in me could imagine a future now that it had come to this.
The Baron drew breath. Feyd turned savage. There was no more room for me as I was.
I refused to be anything else.
Harun did well in the start of the duel. He kept his feet moving. When Feyd stepped one way, Harun stepped the other. Although he was a large man, his size paled in comparison to Feyd. He knew that he was outmanned in a close fight. Unfortunately, Feyd had endurance to outlast.
They did their dance of repelling, advancing.
Feyd toyed with Harun. He made mistakes. He raised Harun's confidence. The mental battle was nearly lost. At times, Feyd moved so slow that it tempted Harun to act aggressively. It turned the fight. It was no longer defense. Offense took center stage.
The resounding clank of their blades grew loud through the air. It was felt by all around.
Still, Feyd toyed with Harun. He fed Harun's confidence to unwise impulses that left him open to attack.
Hours passed by in the course of minutes. It felt eternity as Harun fought for his life when there was certain death in every moment.
The excited nobility went "ooh" and "aah". Their bodies jittered with thrill at the prospect of what they might witness.
Feyd swung his sword harder. Each clash of their blades were harder and harder met.
The power traveled up Harun's arm. He held his hand atop his arm to stop the trembling of his sword.
Their blades met in a thudding clash. This time it was so resounding that it vibrated within our throats. The wobbling metal made a horrid sound.
I near called out for Feyd to stop his taunting when a flurry of motions began. Their bodies were pushed against one another. The crossed swords angled away as they shoved their bodies in the hopes it would stagger the other off their feet.
Feyd gave a particularly hard jolt. Harun stumbled off his feet.
Feyd stood as a grim face of death overlooking his victim with a restrained snarl.
Harun moved for his blade. A heavy foot pressed his wrist into place. Pain filled his face. The handsome features twisted as Feyd's full weight crushed his bones below it.
Feyd watched the pain. "Hm."
Just kill him already!
It was a cruel tantizling dance of the nerves.
Harun winced as the pain ascended his arm. He refused to struggle. A resignation to his fate already held the man's features.
I looked at Nabil. His face, too, resigned. He was forced his younger brother, the only surviving one, to be slain in front of his eyes.
My stomach coiled harder, sicker than before. I held my side to shift the pain out of my mind.
"You fought well, Faheem."
Feyd lifted the large blade. It swung down.
The room looked on. My own eyes stared at the scene before me with a numbing confusion.
Harun's cry filled my ears. "Yadi." He groaned. Bright red blood spurted from the open end of his arm. "My hand."
The blade dropped from Feyd's hand. It clattered. Red drops flung into the air. The blood smeared beneath his boots as he marched back.
He angrily tore my eyes from Harun's bleeding body. His hands gripped my cheeks together, pulling them up toward his. Our lips clashed. His hot and heavy against mine.
Only after a minute of his victory prize did Feyd allow Nabil to tend to his brother missing hand.
They gathered him up to his feet. His brother and another. He struggled with exaggerated breaths. My eyes were torn from Feyd to watch Harun hobble away. Nabil pulled the scarf from his shoulders to staunch the blood flow. The red seeped through the rich blue fabric with ease.
I bit back vomit.
Feyd snarled suddenly. His voice raised loud enough for the entire city to hear. "His hand. Bring the hand to my chambers." My eyes jumped back to his in disbelief. "I've plans for it."
The rest of the evening was a blur. A confusing watery memory in my mind as I was led back to Feyd's chambers by him only. I'd wanted to flee sooner. Motya left early in the evening. She offered to accompany me to my chambers. Feyd refused. I was meant to dangle off his arm for the entire festival.
The corridor was barren as we walked. It stretched endless. The colors, brass and gold, melded into a singular hue.
Nothing was said when we entered the rooms.
He detected the tension. Same as I.
I proceeded straight into the bathroom at the back of the chambers while I heard the faintest clicking of multiple locks.
My body struggled against the constraints of my dress. The bodice was taut. I ached all over. The tension of my abdomen had not ceased since The Baron's appearance.
I gripped the edge of the sink as I stared at the shambles I was left in. Everything was changed. My life, forever marred by this night.
Beauty of my costume was mangled. I despised what I saw.
A monster form over my animal skin.
I needed rid of it.
Tears, long since bubbled into my eyes, surged at my weakened barriers. It was too easy. All else needed my strength, I could not keep them at bay forever. The cool water overflowed onto my face. The dark makeup of my eyes dripped along with it. The leaking black from my eyes ended at my jaw, where it dripped down onto my necklace, my dress. Whatever it wished stained next.
Again, my body was torn with a pain. I gripped the sink with all my power. I bit my bottom lip to silence my bottled scream.
A singular nudge at the door signaled Feyd's presence.
We grew so close in this short time. The door was a revolving door neither respected strongly. He entered when I bathed or whatever I required to do, it seldom crossed our minds to be bothered by the other.
"Sweetness," he said after the answering silence did not open the door.
I shook my head. No. No it was too soon.
A single word said to him would release the floods I held no control over.
"Mintha." The raw edge of his voice bordered rage. "Answer me." There was only a breath's time before he spoke again. "Open the door."
"No," I barked back.
"Do as I say," he said.
"No!"
The sob broke through the sound of my strain. My hearts shattering upon the floor.
Again.
Thanks to him.
Thanks to this bloody family he was born to.
He pried the door open with the might of his arms. The gears screeched in protest. Mechanisms of the walls groaned, whining and eventually surrendering to his power.
Feyd stepped inside. He took one look at me and shuttered his anger behind a slate of indifference.
"I did not kill him."
I shook my head. What was he talking about? "What?"
"I left him alive," Feyd said.
"You cut off his hand!" I howled. My hands gripped harder. The stone was unrelenting to my strength. Like most else was.
"He touched you!" He snapped back.
Cool tears fell harder upon my cheeks. It was my fault! Feyd's jealousy had lost a man his hand.
"Harun never touched me."
Feyd stepped closer. He knew to not draw near. Somehow, he read that I needed distance. Despite his wretching open the door.
"I saw. He placed his hand upon your shoulder. When you spoke this night," Feyd said. "You are mine. All mine. There is a price to pay for touching what's mine. It should have been more. I wanted to cut the head from his shoulders!"
"Then why didn't you? Was it the pain? Did you like to see his?" It echoed hollowly against the cold tile of the room. Everything lacked wamrth when it was what I yearned for. "Or was it mine?" A shudder shook my spine. "Did you disfigure him to punish me?"
"No."
The might of his growl was staggering.
My breaths panted like an animal run ragged from fighting and surviving. The end of my journey had to near. I could not survive this forever.
I was not strong enough.
"There have to be survivors," he said low, beneath his breath.
I swallowed.
His hands drifted up in the air. Fingers clenched, as if in a struggle. He walked a short distance away before he came back. "You said. There must be survivors from me. I left him alive, for you."
An strangled scream left my throat. "You should have killed him! When you had the sword in your hand. He was right there. You could have killed him. Ended this all! Instead you let him walk in and take your throne. Everything was perfect here. We were perfect." I pushed myself away from the sink. Distance. I needed to expel this building awful feeling inside. It was leeching over every thing, every memory. So much despair. "It's gone now. We lost our chance. He's already won you. You are his trained monster."
Feyd clenched his fist so hard the knuckles all popped. He swung it against the tile wall. A savage yell left his lips as the tile cracked and splintered under his power.
I stared on, indifferent to his rage. I knew it too well to fear him now. Either he killed me or did not. My acceptance of both was long since settled.
Instead the pieces of tile clattered to the floor. Their shards, splintering and shattering into pieces at our feet.
Our eyes stared at one another. They were bearing the weight of what we felt, all contained in their air tight boxes so none might be revealed to the wrong person. Every aspect of us, kept hidden and secret.
Who we were, maybe, a mystery to the other too.
Hot pain ripped through my body. My hands pressed onto the sides of my stomach to ease it. That helped little.
The reminder of my condition struck Feyd still. The anger dropped away. The tops of his knuckles darkened, some split. Smears of dark blood touched his pale ivory skin. They were ignored.
He stormed out of the bathroom. The shudder of his steps retreated away from my notice.
My strength of the night, spent. I slid down to the floor. Both hands held onto the swell of my stomach. Aches in my back ascended me with ease. The battling of both was an unfair fight.
What was happening to me?
It was like all the pain I felt mentally, instead shifted down to torture me physically too.
My eyes cried onto the expanse of my body. It became covered in my tears.
"Wallah!" Vishti exclaimed. Their old body moved to me on the floor. They fell to their knees. Their hands held my face. Tears smeared atop their fingers as they held me.
Feyd entered a step later. His throat bobbed.
"We must get you out of this dress. Now."
Vishti lost all sense of decorum. Their concern over me trumped their fear of his many knives. They waved for Feyd to assist.
"What is happening to me, Vishti?" I cried.
Vishti instructed Feyd to lift me under my arms so that I could be tore free of my dress. "Is alright, my lady. Is alright."
"Am I dying?" I murmured.
Feyd's breath intook sharply.
"Oh no. No. You need rest. In bed." Vishti's old hands pulled at the spine-length of small hook fasteners. "You'll be alright, my lady. Don't fear."
Their hands took too long.
Feyd shifted me against his chest. He pulled a dagger from his side. The blade cut through the taut sides of the dress down to my toes. The freeing of the confines rushed a welcome breath into my lungs. I gasped out, greedily drinking in each breath.
My body aches continued. Their strength, dissipated slight.
I lulled back against Feyd, the only remaining strength I had to remain upright. His body was stiff and rigid beneath me.
"You. Slave. What should I do?" He barked, quivering just so at the end of his words. "She needs a doctor, right?"
Vishti shook her head. "No, lord na Baron. Water. She needs water and rest. She needs to stay in bed. She try too hard, na-Baron."
They told Feyd to keep my upright. A dress covering needed fetched for me.
A groan ran up along my throat. It was deep and hollow.
Why was I being tortured so? Had I deserved this for my welcome of Feyd? Was it the desert's punishment for not seeking death sooner?
"Thank you," Feyd whispered.
I startled. "Hm?"
"The celebration" he said.
It was gentle. His lips pressed against my temple. They were a slip of warmth that welcome sensation back to me. I leaned against it.
"I belong to no other, Mintha."
My tears resurfaced. I fought them back.
Vishti rushed in a moment later. "Here we are. Here, here." The silken robe slipped against my body, though it was backwards. I did not care. I was secured in it enough to be covered. "Now. Straight to bed. Can you step? Does it hurt?"
Feyd hoisted me up in his arms. Vishti followed silently behind.
My body slipped into the soft bed. Vishti's arms reached and fluffed the pillows behind my back. I sat straighter.
He stood by the side of the bed. His eyes watched, uncertain, of what needed done. A small piece of fear peaked through. Attention snapped back to my personal attendant as she worked.
"Is she going to be alright?" He asked.
"Oh, yes, na-Baron. She needs to drink and rest. Her body goes through too much." They then asked me. "How long have you hurt, my lady? Twenty minutes?"
A cup was thrust into my hand. I was urged to drink and drink until I couldn't any longer.
"After I gave the na-Baron his gift," I answered. Another cup of water was pushed toward me. It hurt my body more to drink so much. "Can I have this much? The allotments…"
"Drink it, Mintha." Feyd said.
Vishti was diligent in their service to my comfort. Feyd was stricken in place. He stared on without care of any thing else. Every so often, he shifted his weight to one side.
Still he was not harsh with Vishti while they helped me. He allowed them to massage my belly. The dark intensity of his eyes followed the motions of their hands as they worked all around my flesh.
Finally there was nothing more to be done. Although I shivered at the idea of not having Vishti's experienced hands to make it all stop, I permitted them to leave me.
Vishti made me promise not to leave the bed. After that, they bowed to Feyd and left the chambers.
It was deathly quiet. The entire chambers filled with a surge of tension neither of us wanted to address.
"Why did you not tell me?" He asked.
My brow flexed at him curiously.
His voice was gruff. "The pain."
"I was given so little of your time the rest of the night," I said. "When was there a chance?"
He snarled. "You have a right to me. Always. I never turn you away."
"Not now. Now that he's here." My voice croaked. "Things will be the same as they were before. Like back at the castle. You will be what he needs you to be and bide your time. I'll be forced to watch it happen without a thing to do to stop it."
"Stop that," he growled suddenly. His back turned to me. "I do not like it."
I blinked. There was not a thing that I'd done that was different. Was it speaking? Did he hate what I said?
He loved to be diverted from discomfort, but there was no gain from pretending now. It would change. We would be different with the Baron in residence.
"Like what?"
"Your eyes. The tears there. And the way your voice sounds," he said.
The back of my robe dragged against my eyes. "I'm sorry."
"Don't say that either," he snapped. "It makes me angry."
"At me?" I gasped.
"No. No, at the world. My hands want a blade. I yearn to feel life slip across its blade, leaving at its will."
He walked away from the bed.
No.
No, I couldn't be on my own. It could not be already that he would separate from me.
I needed him.
"Please, Feyd. Don't leave me," I pleaded. "I-I can't do this alone."
He stopped. A ripple of tension ascended his spine and pulled his shoulders taut.
If it was the desperation in my voice, I hated it too. It was disgusting. My throat burned from their release. Other parts refused to keep them retained. So many layers converged, overpowering my restraint. I was helpless to what came from my mouth.
"You will never be alone," he said finally. His shoulders fell. The black jacket and shirt were pulled from his top. His body shifted the bed as he climbed alongside me. "I am here."
My arms slipped around him. I pulled myself against his chest. The warmth permeated my body from his with ease. A relieved sigh left my lips.
He was hesitant to hold me back. He asked if he hurt me. I told him no. His lips pursed in a thin line, not convinced.
"You'll say if I hurt you," he said. "I demand you tell me when."
"Vishti knows what to do. They say, water and rest. It will fix me."
He did not move. "Swear to me."
"The baby is fine," I snipped. "Now hold me. Please. I'm cold."
His arms wrapped around my body. Like coiled snakes, they slithered within my robe. The touch of bare flesh against mine fed my body waves of heat.
My lips pressed against his chiseled pec. It was not a nice cushion below my cheek, but it still comforted me.
"Don't leave," I murmured.
"I won't."
"Don't change either." My lips spoke against his skin. My insecurities kept my eyes from seeking his gaze. I could pretend I spoke to no one when I vomited my fears out to an animal that delighted in them. "I like you this way."
"It is better this way," he said.
The moment died to nothing. Those words disarmed every emotion, every word and capability I had.
I became nothing. And nothingness came to claim me in that sweet night.
It did not stay.
Black nothingness changed to dreams. Dreams of a dark dirty castle with thick mildew and black mold grown up walls. Screams. So many in the air.
And a small boy with a banded ring upon his thumb. Red lined his eyes. The coloring of his cheeks was blotched. A smearing of black - blood? - at the corner of his mouth, wiped with the back of his hand.
Curved pink lips twitched. They tightened and pulled away as his mouth parted. An angry scream left his body. It echoed amongst the empty halls, vibrating the cold stone.
The ends of his arms turned to fists. They swung at the walls. Hollow sounds left his mouth as each fist made contact with the wall. Over and over and over again.
He did not stop when his fingers broke. The crunching of bone. The visible pain in his face as he kept on.
Then a sound. The churning hiss of machinery turned his head.
It made him run. His legs moved fast, long and slender. He narrowly ran through corridors, dank and slick.
No matter how hard he ran, pale fingers neared the scruff of his neck. He'd push harder. His chest heaved each breath. The tremble of his legs began to slow his pace. Still he tried to escape. Visible fear grew with each moment, as part by part, his body gave into exhaustion.
I awoke in the night. "Feyd!"
"I'm here."
My fingers gripped him. I shook unable to release his flesh from my hold.
He laid on his side, facing me. His eyes were wide and bright. They did not slow from a late night awakening. Not like the burning in my eyes.
"You're safe," he assured me.
"You're here." I breathed. My mind began to work. The dreams power lifted from my body. My fingers released from his skin. "You're still here," I murmured, to myself.
"Where would I be?"
I sat up, analyzing the room. The shadows. Could the Baron hide in here without us knowing?
My legs swung over the side of the bed.
"Mintha."
I heard the concern in his voice. The strange confusion of my erratic search through the dark quarters. My fingers flicked on the lights.
"Mintha."
There were so many lights! Why was this place so large?
I turned to reach for another switch, when a warm hard body met against me. Two arms held me.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," Feyd said.
"I have to see. I need to know."
"You have seen these rooms."
"I need to know he isn't here," I said.
My hands trembled again. Fingertips fought against his arms barely able to remain steady.
"He'll come and take you away! I need to see. The lights. Please, Feyd! The lights!"
His arms lifted me against his chest. My weight did not budge his stance. The man supported me entire quivering body.
He moved his face close to mine. "Look at me."
I struggled to calm my panic enough to find his gaze.
"Do you think I would let a thing come through that door while you sleep?" My attention flashed to the very intact door. The many locks still latched in place. "Rest. You need rest. Come back to bed."
Feyd carried me back to the bed. He settled against me, closer than before. The heat of his presence greeted me as an old friend. Fears of the shadows lessened.
"Rest now." He said after my many attempts to speak to him. "You need rest. Or you'll get weak again."
"Please, Feyd. Let me be here. With you."
My fingertips slid along the center line of his abdomen up until it reached the bulged muscles of his chest. I put them higher. They did not stop until I felt the swift pace of his heart below.
If I felt him alive, I could forget the terror of awaking alone.
"Sweetness," he hissed. "There is no place you are without me. Now sleep."
He did not hear of any command I feigned the strength to give. He only regurgitated the same instruction that Vishti left him with. Rest.
It took many long minutes before I calmed enough to settled against his chest to sleep. It was fitful. I'd feel myself falling asleep, and the thought of Feyd being stolen while I slept frightened me awake.
Feyd held onto me. The pain of each fingertip upon my skin eased me to a comfort that led to a sudden slumber.
The dreams returned. Their vengeance returned stronger than before.
The Baron's face was a vivid memory that I tried to forget. It burned into my eyes. The horrid sight of his fingers running along young Feyd's arm. A lustful hunger within his mouth as he called Feyd "darling".
Each flash showed a younger face of Feyd.
My beloved grew from an adolescent to a small boy of only two, like Musa. There was a color to his skin then. An innocence in those round dark eyes long since dimmed in him. Fluffy dark waves of hair even showed atop his head.
When the Baron touched that boy in my dreams, I shook. I shook and could not stop.
"Mintha!" A voice called. It shook the very foundation of my bones. "Mintha! Mintha? No. No!"
My eyes snapped open. Feyd was over top of me. Desperate touched his face with subtle anger. One hand gripped the side of my face.
"Sweetness?" He said softly. His thumbs caressed my cheek. "Sweetness, can you hear me?"
"I'm here," I murmured through the thick heavy sleep.
"Don't move." He instructed me. "You're bleeding."
"Bleeding?" I repeated, baffled.
His other hand lifted and revealed a palm coated in bright red. He, too, seemed stricken by the glistening crimson.
Blood. Blood.
"Vishti said there shouldn't be blood," I revealed. "It means something very bad."
He climbed off the bed. Absent a shirt, with a pair of lounge pants that hanged off of his hips loosely, he entered the corridor of the castle. "Fetch the doctor. Now!" He snapped. "Carry him if you have to."
Feyd paced the length of the footboard of the bed. He ever so often would glimpse the growing stain on the bed.
"Where is that damn man?" He roared.
His pacing quickened. Every moment he was losing his control.
"Feyd," I said.
"Don't speak. Don't move. Don't anything." He said, losing the venom in his tone. "Not until he looks you over."
I blinked back my wall of tears. It was for the best, wasn't it? It was just as I wished.
He knew what it meant. He did not reveal so, but the man was smarter in ways I did not credit.
We were losing the one thing we'd placed our hopes into.