Into the box || A DUNE FIC

Chapter 7: Disintegration

I stared at the ceiling, unable to move. My breath came out short and my sweat all of the sudden made me cold.

He had filled my womb. I completed that task, at least, in my betrayal of my sisters. In my betrayal of myself.

I managed to sit up in the bed, pulling the sheets in to cover me. The dark stone of the room seem to lull at me.

"Look what you've done now..."
"Failed your duty."
"Mindlessness."
"Poisoned."
"Can't even choke down her own desires."

I put my head on my knees.

"You regret it," Feyds voice sounded from behind me. I turned to look at him, and his expression was vacant as he stared up at his ceiling.

"No. I just... shouldn't have."

My words were quiet as he met my gaze with his beautiful lethal eyes and sat up so we were inches apart.

"You should be able to do what you want."

His gaze grazed my lips before he brought it back up.

"I can't."

I turned to look away from him.

"I can't just do what I want."

My nails dug into my arms as I crumpled further into myself. I could feel his glare.

"I never took you for a coward, Margot."

"It's not being cowardly, it's being loyal."

"Is that what you told yourself as you pictured fucking me?"

"I never pictured doing this." A lie.

"I don't believe that."

"Really? Because all who see you want to fuck you?"

"No, all who see me run in fear."

"Just as you prefer I suppose, is that why you killed your mother?"

The room went silent at my words and I turned back to look at him, expecting anger. Expecting him to grab me and slay me against the wall, a fitting end for my harsh words, but he was calm.

"I was young. They handed me a weapon. She was a weakness," he said, his voice low and his gaze locked on the bed.

"A weakness to you?"

Feyd-Rautha nodded his head.

"They would've done worse to her. Worse to her because of her children, and because of her husband. She wasn't happy."

"So you killed her?"

"So I was a child handed a weapon."

I nodded, and stared off into the distance of the barely lit room.

I pictured a tiny Feyd-Rautha, handed a blade as sharp as a worms tooth, growing up knowing nothing but violence. What else could he do to smother the flame? What else had he learned?

I pictured his mother, weeping. Publicly as well as privately unhappy. What else could a child do?

I pictured him stalking into her room, screaming, holding the blade over her neck. What else could a child do?

I pictured his uncle, too fearful of him to scold him of his actions. Molding him into an even sharper weapon. Using his "need" for violence as the point of his war efforts. The seed of his own quest for blood.
I pictured him being taught that what he did was right, and that he should do it to all who cross his path. Being trained like a rabid fox. Not being seen as a person. Becoming that other being that all see him as. His "need" becoming a reality.
What else could a child do?

"Why didn't you kill me," I muttered out.

"I should've," he said, eyes locking with mine as I turned back to look at him.
"You are a worse weakness than my mother, but even my mother feared me. Even my mother saw what had taken root in me and didn't think she could cut it out. But you..."

He gripped my chin with his fingertips and smiled. Not because of blood-lust, not because he was angry, but because he was content. He was enraptured by the carve of my cheeks, the color of my eyes, the pink of my lips.

"You look at me... and I..."

He was at a loss for words.

"I'm not a weapon, I'm yours."

I was speechless at his words, gutted that I had let my regret shine through.

"I don't regret this," I responded back. "And I'll find reason to return."

I pulled up from the bed, wrapping the silk blanket around myself leaving him bare in the bed. It took everything in me to not stay.

"Why can't you stay," he muttered, as if reading my thoughts, pulling himself to side of the bed and bringing a hand up to brush the hair out of my face. The gentle gesture almost brought tears to my eyes.

"I will come back. I promise."

I then kissed him, and he met my kiss with his teeth and tongue, as if it would keep me tethered to this room.

I was his sanity, I realized in this moment. I was the pull against his stone chest. Against his violent nature. I was his joy and his weakness, and I would wear that like a badge on my chest.

I pulled the blanket over myself as I walked over to the mess that had been my dress. I fingered through the fabric, searching for the orb, but my fingers didn't collide with anything hard. My brows furrowed.

"Feyd-"

But his eyes were locked on something behind me. With rage in his eyes, he found a knife on his night table and threw it into the dark space behind me.

The blade circled and circled before hitting the armed man square in the head, causing him to crumple over.

But not before his dagger had entered my stomach through my back, and I heaved for breaths slowly dying out.