Im Begging On My Knees For A Part 2 Like Im Begging On My Knees To Be Popular PLEASEEEEEEEEE

Im begging on my knees for a part 2 like im begging on my knees to be popular PLEASEEEEEEEEE

The Deer Was Tired 1/3

synopsis: As a guard for the Atreides family, it's your job to make sure their precious offspring was satisfied. Even if doing so got in the way of your true mission.

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Trigger Warnings | Content: Manipulative Behavior, Dubious Consent, Abuse of Power, Stalking, Sexual Coercion, Corruption Kink, Assassination Au.

By his fourth night of no sleep, the Archduke was restless, prickly and completely fucking annoying.

If you could kill him you would, but you couldn't. You could just barely grab for your knife and after an hour, even moving had become an impossible task. Call that the 'completely fucking annoying' part.

What a pity. 

Now at this hour, the Palace was a sleeping beast with soldiers that stood bleary eyed in the hallways. The inner workings of the court, nothing more than a shallow husk.

 It reminded you of the cities on Tano, a planet so lively during the day but nothing but a husk at night. But this was not that, this planet was a graveyard. 

An open cemetery filled with the walking dead and the beast that fed on them. Bad actors filled every corner of this world, death licked at your feet and famine yipped at your lungs. You've never been so thirsty. But you were sure that even they were rested now. The disease, the pestilence and the worms. Everything rested at this hour. Everyone but him. 

It was an odd thought. You felt as if you were even breaking some rule, that even the dunes moon hated the fact that the two of you were awake as it shined it's light through the Lords window, successfully lighting up the dark room and giving you a front row seat to the Lord that stared at you like a bug, like something to step on. 

Maybe you were. 

If not a bug than a snake. Something slimy and slick that cleaned up the pest in your walls silently, efficiently. Something meant to be invisible. It was partly true. Just as much as you were partly impressed. 

You never knew such a delicate man could look so demeaning. It reminded you of those old war paintings, the kind filled with vengeful women with burning eyes and gnashing teeth. He wanted to kill you. 

It didn’t help that at this hour, the young man was dressed like his mother. His body decorated in a deep oceanic blue fabric that crashed into waves at the ankles of his calloused feet. Each cross stitch covered in jewels and beads that glimmered in the moonlight while he laid stiff on his cot. 

 He was beautiful like this. And if you were being nice you’d say that he looked like one of those deadly beauties you heard of on the radio-if you were being nice. The look of death on his face kind of ruined it. 

With a face engraved with dark circles and sallow cheeks. The lord looked more sickly than anything. A walking famine. Before he turned towards his window, a frown etched into his regal features. 

Then with a beleaguered sigh, the Lord pinched the bridge of his nose. "Be blunt, soldier," 

"Are you saying it all came up negative?"

You rolled your armored shoulders. It sounded like a machinery of parts. "Yes, m'lord," 

"And what about this room, the walls I touch, the air I breathe?,"

"Checked and cleared, m'lord"

His frown only deepened. "Check it again,"

"But-"

He slammed his fist on the window sill. 

"Must I repeat myself?" You straighten your posture.

"Must I?"  

You shook your head till your helmet let out a creak and the brat unballed his fist. "Good," 

"This sickness has already gotten in the way of the more important things, it can't make me ignore my father's request too," 

You blinked and lied: "The Duke may be lenient," 

He laughed till his cheeks went sickly red but no humor was on his face. "You know him then?" He asked, even though that wasn't at all what you said. 

Still, still he did not wait for your response. He simply groaned, low and hard like an injured animal too stubborn to die. You wished he'd just die. 

"In a weeks time my father will need me at peak condition, and yet I haven't slept in days,"

"I haven't dreamt in days," 

"I have not known rest in days, I can barely hold my dagger any more but you say nothings wrong,"

"It is the truth," you lied again. "I pray for your health everyday m'lord" 

And for a moment there was silence before he cut his eyes towards you. "Don't lie, you are irritated with me and would readily slit my wrist for disrespect if I wasn't a highborn," You've never been more grateful that your armor came with a face shield. 

The stupid prince just had a flare for the dramatics, that was all. 

"My lord," you continued, your voice unnaturally timid because that's what books told you to sound like when speaking to royalty. "May I make a suggestion,"

"You may," But he barely looked at you when he responded, his eyes now locked firmly on the expanse of sand outside his window. His own little view of this hell scape planet. For a moment you wondered what he saw.

"Well as you know, the Duke brought many of the servants on your home planet to the Dunes," you waited for him to interrupt but he did not, you sighed with relief. "Everyone with loyalty to the throne is on this planet" 

The young man scoffed. "Are you suggesting that I make friends with servants" 

"In a way," you lied and before the scowl on the mans face could deepen (fuck it) you continued: "I'm suggesting that you get a whore," You said bluntly and not at all regal or uptight, shit. 

You're barely finished your sentence before the Atreides lord went as stiff as a board. His eyes no longer focused nor his breathing noticeable. For a moment, you mistook him for an apparition until a rush of red bloomed from under his cheeks and his eyes went beady like a bug.

Nonetheless, silence draped over the room like sand, the only thing you could hear being the sound of mice that scurried through the walls and the dancing of desert sand. 

 It would be distracting if you weren't anticipating his answer. The poor man, you must've shocked him. Politicians were rarely known for directness and you've begun to contemplate if you ran into this too abruptly then you thought before you felt it.

The soft tremor of your muscles and the swelling in the back of your head that felt like a banging drum, like a whistled beat. As something red-hot and scorching (fear,fear, dread) seeped from your veins and onto cold white bone. 

The urge to run bursted in every cell of your brain but you could not move. The sense of doom forced you still. For a horrifying second, instinct fought against instinct. You needed to run, you needed to stay. You needed to scream, you needed to choke it all down. You didn't realize it was over until you collapsed to your knees and sticky drool sloshed from your lips while your nails dug painfully into the floor. 

 Atreides hadn't moved an inch. He simply looked at you from the reflection of the glass window. His eyes replaced with black opaques that made you wonder where his irises ended and pupils began. 

Shakily, you stood back to your feet. 

"My-"

"How dare you," he hissed. 

"Please-"

"Get out," And as if space and time were at his beck and call. You blinked, the universe ceased to exist and just like that you were at his door with your armored hand on the handle. 

"And soldier," he whispered, voice now hoarse. The room now thick, muddy and impossible to think through with this heavy cloud that swelled heavy in your head. 

"Check it again,"

__

The next day, the Dune sun sunk into every pore of your skin. 

You could barely hear yourself think as you leaned against the cemented pillars of the palace. Each moment passed by with a drip of sweat made the tree gardener eventually stop and glare before grimly handing you a cup. 'A waste of water' he grumbled before he got back to work, his own skin drier than the dirt itself. 

Oh the thrills of guarding the Palm Trees.

For a moment, you wondered if this was a punishment. Something suggested by the Lord himself before quickly you burned the thought away, the Archduke was not that cruel. No, he was efficient. If he truly wanted you to hurt, a quick walk in the desert would be more his style. You doubt that you would’ve made it to morning if you had truly hurt the Lord. But that was the problem wasn’t it? He wasn’t supposed to want to hurt you. He wasn’t even supposed to know you. And now you were here, so now what? 

Now what?

Your head had begun to hurt as you thought of the possibilities. You could run, you could change your appearance, you could simply die. Did it matter? The end result stayed the same; they would not be happy. They might just bring her back just to kill her again. Oh the horror. They were going to find out and you were going to die and, 

Something like terror had begun to lick at your bones. Fear lapping at your soles. Suddenly it felt like eyes were on you everywhere. That the sky was watching and the walls were listening, they were everywhere and what were you to say? How would you plead your case? Everything watched as you stood there, your entire body damp with sweat and in your delusion even the gardener kept his gaze on you. His deep set skin dragging with his eyes at your form. Did he know what you were too? Did he know what you did? 

What were you to say if they asked? If your stupidity breached the walls of the Lords chamber?

 It was one thing to be the brats guard, it was another for him to remember that you were his guard. Just like that, you gripped the cup painfully. 

If the Brat remembered you...no you couldn't have that. It would ruin everything.It maybe already had. But the man was teased of sleep, of rest. Day and night he screamed and shouted at the guards, at his parents. At this moment, he was no different than a drunken fool. Yes, that was it. Your stupidity could be put down to that. The ramblings of a sleep deprived idiot. Even if he wasn't around, you suspected that the brat would tell your commander about the perverted soldier who attempted to tempt him into depravity, but who would believe him?

Everyone. 

Everyone would believe him. Because he was a prince before he was a fool. And you were going to die. Either by his hand or something far, far worse. It was as simple as that. A fact set in stone. The revelation caused your heart to ram into your ribs. For it was a simple answer for a simple question. All that you had left to do was warn the others, to prepare them.

Or maybe you didn’t as your shift ended with a buzz on the wrist and an overarching shadow that stretched into a soldier with armor like yours appeared in your line of vision. Under the sunlight he stood like death's hand. His metallic armor catching a gleam in your eyes. 

“The commander needs to speak to you,” the man said gruffly. 

“He says it’s urgent,” and that was that. 

You could only jerk your head in acknowledgement and with a nod towards the Gardener, you swiftly made your final exit; but not before looking at the cup of liquid in your hand and throwing it to the ground.