Chapter Text
Thea was fuming. The letter slipped into her lap by the housekeeper was balled in her fist, the black ink smudging onto her skin.
The words on the page were nothing new. She hated him for it. The housekeeper had said nothing as she handed over the letter, but Thea caught the fleeting pity in her eyes.
Her stupid, arrogant brother. Spoiled. Asshole.
As she stormed down the corridor toward the aircraft wing, her thoughts warred within her. How many times could she do this? How many more times would Roman gamble this planet’s future while she cleaned up after him? Her boots echoed sharply against the stone, a sound that usually grounded her but now only seemed to underscore her isolation.
“Commandeer a ship,” she barked at the startled crew member. “I’m joining the next highliner to Geidi-Prime. Immediately.”
The crew member hesitated, stammering something about preparing an official ship. Thea cut him off. “No. We leave now. None of my ladies will join me. I travel alone.”
“What about the Count?” he ventured, his voice cautious.
Thea froze. Her father. She exhaled slowly. “I will speak to the Count. Be ready when I return.”
She turned on her heel and strode though an adjacent corridor that descended into the rocky ground. The stone hallways became more finely wrought as she moved through.
Thea felt the familiar ache build in her chest. Her father would be where he always was, oblivious to the chaos around him.
A footman found her apace. “My Lady, the usual go bag?”.
“Yes, Forlyle.” Inform the Stewart I will return as soon as possible. Tell him to push my meetings and appointments. Send my regrets.”
"Yes, My Lady”.
“Thank you.”
He darted back down the passage, and she approached a large stone door. Pulling a rhythmic series of metal wires embedded in the stone, the door opened. She re-tucked her headpiece behind her ears and smoothed her skirts.
“Father,” she called as she stepped into the room. Her voice carried an edge of urgency, but he didn’t look up. He was hunched over his desk, surrounded by scattered devices, equipment, and unfinished meals.
“Oh Thea. What brings you here?” He said, finally noticing her.
“Roman has gotten himself into trouble again.”
Her father’s expression didn’t change. “Oh.”
She pushed down her rage. “You must stop letting him do as he pleases.”
“What am I to do?” he replied distantly.
“He’s just a boy.”
Her anger flared.
“He is a grown man, and he will take us all down with him If you won’t…” She stopped herself, swallowing the words. “If you won’t act, I’ll have to. Again.”
Her father’s gaze drifted back to his desk. Thea’s felt a sheet of sadness wash over her. She grabbed one of the vials he had been studying closely, holding it up to the light. It was beautifully distilled, absolutely pure. A product of talent.
“I’m leaving,” she said sharply, placing the vial back on the desk. “You may have to step up and perform your duties in my absence, Father.”
Turning away and walking back through the threshold was painful. Her chest felt constricted and as she expected, her father didn’t say a word.
-----
Her Swordmaster, Calum Onserrat met her in the hangar. His features were tight.
“What has he done this time?” he asked, his voice low, already bracing for bad news.
Thea let out a long sigh. “The idiot has landed himself in the hands of the Harkonnen’s…”
They didn’t need to say more; they both knew the implications of such a disaster.
“For dealing in illicit drugs,” she added, her voice tinged with a bitter exhaustion. “On Giedi Prime, of all places.”
There was a long pause. “That’s… bold. Even for him.”
“That’s one word for it,” Thea replied, her lips twitching into a humorless smile.
“I’m sorry Thea.” Calum said softly.
She gave him a weak smile of thank you as they boarded the small transport ship. It was a cargo runner, standard for running goods from Heighliner’s to surface. Her eyes fell on her go-bag, neatly stowed in the corner. At least one thing had gone right.
“How long until we arrive in Harkonnen airspace?” She asked the pilot at the controls.
“As this is a covert mission my Lady,” the pilot replied. “We will be tagging along with the next trade Heighliner heading that way. Approximately 1 day.”
Thea nodded, her mind running through possible scenarios that awaited her. The Harkonnen’s were not known for mercy, or negotiation.
Calum handed her a small vial of chartreuse colored liquid. She looked him in the eye, he nodded. She swallowed the vial without hesitation.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
She had just enough time to make it to a seat and strap herself in before the tonic knocked her into a deep sleep.
------
She awoke to the drip of the antidote on her lips and the green taste on her tongue. Calum came into sight above her, his finger gently dabbling her lips. His touch was reverent, almost not there at all, as if he was handling something delicate.
She sat herself up and was handed a flask of water. She drank it down. She would miss the clean and fresh water of home. She had heard stories about the foul filtered water of Geidi-Prime, a reflection of the planet itself. But alas, she was no stranger to living plainly. She would deal it what came -- as she always did.
“Thank you,” she croaked, her voice hoarse from the dryness of sleep. Calum nodded, stepping back.
He looked rested. She hated it when he insisted on exhausting himself to watch over her.
The effect of intergalactic travel on the human body was tremendous. With the demands of ruling a planet, being unaccustomed to being in space and having to travel frequently, her house had developed tonics to ease the damage.
The biggest factor they had found, had been to render oneself unconscious. Calum would have administered his own tonic, at a lesser amount, once they were secure on the Heighliner. His dose titrated to render him asleep for a set amount of time.
Thea turned her attention to the small viewport, where the vast expanse of the Heighliner’s interior stretched forth. Whatever awaited her, she would deal with it. She had to.
----
Their transport ship departed from the Heighliner. They were going in blind. This was off the books per say. There would be no safety net.
As the ship descended, Geidi Prime loomed into view, the planet’s surface was mottled with scattered points of light.
There was no vibrancy, no hint of natural life. Evidence of the planet’s exploitation, all to feed the grotesque wealth of House Harkonnen.
The transporter dove further down and the City of Industry came into view – a sprawling mechanized bastion. Endless smokestacks and flares burning off gas went as far as the eye could see. The orange flares of fire were the only things of color in the vast darkness.
“There,” the pilot said, pointing to a monolithic ziggurat-like structure emerging from the horizon.
The Citadel.
Its size was staggering, and its cruel organic lines inspired a sense of latent violence. The cost of such a structure would have been immense.
The pilot spoke tersely. “We have made contact with the Harkonnen’s. We are to land on their private strip.”
“I didn’t expect to be dealing with the top brass so soon,” Thea murmured, her gaze still fixed on the Citadel. “Hopefully this expedites things.”
Calum looked out beside her. “They have always been a house of pomp. This may just be standard fare for them.”
Thea tore her gaze from sights around her.” I must change.” Her tone sharp with authority.
“Do not open the doors until I say.”
She closed a curtain, separating herself off from the cabin. Her go-bag was precisely packed, as always. It had a selection of gowns and accessories to befit someone in her station.
She found herself fingering the fabric of a lush velvet gown in the shade of her house color, Magenta. It would stand out against the brutal monochrome environment. She liked the visual impact it offered.
Divesting herself from her simple day dress took no time. Fitting herself into the gown took much longer. She adjusted the Tudor-style neckline of the bodice, securing the hidden fastenings before reaching for her headpiece.
It pushed her hair back and settled along her brow, concealing the tattoo that marked her as a Lethite. She didn’t know if the Harkonnen’s were aware of her status, but it was best to hold your cards close.
Satisfied, she flipped the veil of her headdress into place. The Alborean design was clever - opaque from the outside but transparent to the wearer. She could observe without revealing her face, a small relief in tense situations.
Calum was at attention as she reemerged. His gaze flicked over her, a subtle shift in his posture coming over him as he took in the gown.
She gave him a curt nod and the door unsealed with a metallic hiss.
Stepping through the threshold made her dizzy. The black sun made everything monochrome, and the transition was harsh. The air hit her like a physical blow --thick, metallic, and tainted with the acrid stench of burn and chemicals.
Calum stepped behind her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Thea glanced back at him briefly. He looked ready. His steadiness calmed her as she stepped forward.
----
A tall, stout Harkonnen man greeted them. His head was bald and his teeth black, as was the Harkonnen way. A toughened smile formed on his face as they approached. It was the kind of smile that suggested a facsimile of politeness.
“Lady Theodora Avtinat,” he said, his voice unctuous. “We have been expecting you. I am Alyosha Chakry; Majordomo to the Na Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”
She dipped her head respectfully.
“Take me to my brother.” She stated clearly, belying the anxiety bubbling beneath the surface. How much would this trip cost her? She knew it would hurt.
Alyosha inclined his smooth head. “First you must be settled in as is customary for guests. I assure you your brother is safe and well.”
She pursed her lips in displeasure. “I do not wish to sleep over, no rooms are required for our visit.”
The man did not move. “You will not be granted permission to exit until the Na-Baron says.”
“The Harkonnen’s will not have their hospitality shirked. It would be a grave insult.”
Hospitality. The word sounded perverse against the Harkonnen’s reputation. But they held all the power in this moment, and she had little choice in the matter. She swallowed her frustration and nodded curtly.
“Very well then. Please lead my retinue to your guest wing.”
“Of course, My Lady Avtinat.” Alyosha said, gesturing for them to follow.
The sound of metal clanging and stones grinding rumbled across the smooth tarmac as they entered into a triangular corridor.
The walls were almost plastic in appearance. The servants who passed them were similarly strange, their transparent garments revealing hairless, pale forms beneath. They kept their heads bowed and their steps silent. Some of them sported bright red stripes on their backs and shoulders.
They walked in silence through the lower levels of the massive ziggurat. A sole glow globe trailing beside them. The Harkonnen world was a vision of calculated brutality.
Alyosha paused at a door. Nodding for Calum to enter. “This is the male guest wing. The Lady Avtinat will reside in the female guest wing.”
Calum stepped forward, his stance rigid. “Where is my Lady staying? As her guard, I must remain close.”
Alyosha’s expression tightened into distaste. “I see, Sir. However, it is sacrilege for an unbound couple to reside together under a Harkonnen roof.”
She touched Calum’s arm to calm him, catching his attention, this was not a battle worth fighting. “It is fine.” she said softly, meeting his gaze with a steady look.
The tension that radiated off him like a sun was palpable, but he remained in place.
“Lady Avtinat, I will now lead you to the female wing.” Alyosha said smoothly.
She followed astutely. Memorizing the path from Calum’s room to hers. She didn’t trust this place or its promises of hospitality.
A great metal door stood before them, flanked by a bevy of heavy-set guards.
Alyosha knocked thrice and the door moved open. A Harkonnen servant woman stepped through, her eyes glued to the floor.
“This is where I leave you, My Lady. No men, save for the Harkonnen’s themselves, are allowed within the harem. Alyosha said, his tone formal.
“I am no concubine here Sir.” Thea spoke with weight.
“It is tradition.” He replied, “Follow her and she will attend to all your needs. The Na Baron will summon you for a meal shortly.”
And with a curt turn Alyosha left her there.
Thea turned to the woman. Who silently entered through the grand door. Thea followed her through without hesitation.
There were no windows in her quarters. Her bag had been delivered unceremoniously, shortly after her deliverance into the “Harem”.
It was time.
-----------
Feyd-Rautha was pleased with his luck, both Avtinat heirs at his heel, what an opportunity.
He lounged in the dim confines of his private chamber, savoring the lingering adrenaline from the day’s training. His skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, streaked with grime and flecks of blood -- not his own, of course. The pit had been deliciously lively today.
He relished the dance of combat, the rush of dominance. Now, as the heat of battle faded, a sly smile curled on his lips.
The younger Avtinat, that pathetic whelp, had been easy prey. Feyd almost pitied the boy for his sheer incompetence. Roman had followed the money trail straight into the rave pits of the City of Industry, leaving a wake of drugs, debts, and violence -- an unholy trinity that the Harkonnen’s could always count on. Pathetic creature he was, Roman Avtinat was a shadow of the power he ought to wield.
And now, the sister had come to clean up his mess. How noble of her, Feyd thought with a smirk. Reports from Alborea always mentioned her labors of love, for blood and country.
He wanted to get a good look at her. Feyd was curious to see how those burdens wore on her.
“The House of Avtinat”, he murmured, his voice rough and laced with contempt. “Almost as broken as our own.” He chuckled darkly at the thought.
If Feyd understood anything, it was how easily corruption lurked beneath a polished surface, and the Avtinat’s were no exception.
His Majordomo had reported back to him. Her party was more informal and rushed than expected. It was confident and foolish, walking into the snake pit with no backup.
He would meet her on his terms. His uncle, the Baron, was preoccupied with his usual excesses. The man’s gluttony had left Feyd room to maneuver, to place his pieces on the board before his uncle’s bloated attention turned to this unexpected boon.
He stood to strip off his training garments. The fabric was damp with sweat from the day’s exertion. He peeled it away and tossed it carelessly aside, revealing his chiseled form. He descended into the bath that awaited him.
As a slave entered to prepare his clothing, Feyd waved a hand lazily, dismissing them. “Tell the girl to come,” he said. “Send someone to fetch her.”
The slave left without a word. Feyd’s smirked as he leaned back in the bath, letting his mind wander to the possibilities.
The dinner would feature local delicacies. He would watch her closely. He wanted to see how far she would bend.
Feyd’s grin widened, He savored the game, and the pieces were falling into place.
-----------
Thea sat in the darkened room; her headdress lay on the table beside her. The dim glow of the room’s single light source cast long shadows across the cold, metallic walls. The air was still. She folded her hands tightly in her lap as she tried to sort through the storm in her mind.
She felt the importance of the moment. Even if she couldn’t fully understand it yet.
For so long, she had played her role perfectly. She had carried the weight with grace. Quietly.
But the facts were undeniable now, as stark and oppressive as the walls surrounding her: they had failed Alborea. All of them. Her brother, her father; they were selfish, and blind. And she, she was guilty of carrying their burdens. The thought tasted unpleasant but the feeling of being awake to it all felt freeing.
I am better than this.
She thought of her mother. She had been the real force behind Alborea, and it had killed her. Thea had watched it happen slowly, year after year. For what? To leave it all in the hands of men, who squandered it, squandered the sacrifices of her mother.
Thea’s jaw clenched. Oh no. Not anymore.
What good had it done? Roman had taken their sacrifices for granted, and father had simply abandoned the fight altogether.
Her thoughts turned to Feyd-Rautha. He was dangerous and violent. The Harkonnen’s were monsters, but they were powerful.
The Enemy of My Enemy is My Friend.
If she could harness their power, perhaps form an alliance that secured Alborea’s future, she could finally give justice to the plight.
She had no illusions about the cost. They would expect something from her, something that was going to hurt.
She smoothed the folds of her gown, the magenta velvet catching the faint light.
Let Roman rot, she thought coldly.
For the first time in too long, she allowed herself to feel the anger that had simmered beneath the surface. It was a strange, powerful sensation, unyielding and unrelenting. She savored it.
As she adjusted the headdress and veil over her head, she allowed herself one final rageful flex of her fingers before she stepped into the fray.
She felt cold and certain. The dinner awaited, and with it, her future.