Shadow of the Sands

"Long live the Fremen"

• (the image above is how they stare at each other 😃)

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She was breathing heavily and she struggled to regain her composure, spitting out blood from her mouth. Despite the beating she had taken, she had managed to defeat two formidable opponents. The Baron himself seemed both impressed and irritated by her resilience.

"Finish her off, my nephew," the Baron commanded Feyd Rautha.

But Feyd Rautha hesitated. "I think we might find her useful. Why kill her when we can attempt to persuade her to join us?" he suggested to his uncle.

The Baron considered this proposition. While it was a tempting idea, he knew it would be nearly impossible to convince a Fremen like her to betray her own people.
"If she doesn't join us, kill her. She's of no use to us then," the Baron added sternly.
Feyd nodded in agreement, casting a glance back at Zurayeh, who stood defiantly in the center of the Arena. As she surveyed the Harkonnens surrounding her, her gaze settled on Feyd Rautha.

With a determined shout, she raised her crysknife high into the air.
"Ibrym al-Fremen!" she declared, her voice echoing through the Arena.

"𝙇𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙣."

The reaction among the Harkonnens was mixed. Some were shocked into silence, while others cheered or even shed tears.
Breathing heavily, Zurayeh braced herself for what would come next. She anticipated an attack, but instead, a large door swung open, and Harkonnen enforcers entered to apprehend her.

Reluctantly, she surrendered her crysknife to them, knowing she was outnumbered and outmatched.
As they escorted her through the halls, Zurayeh's heart raced. She recognized the familiar corridors, realizing they were leading her back to the room where she had first encountered Feyd Rautha. Was this the end for her?

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The door swung open, and they led her inside. Forced to take a seat, she winced as her bruised body protested against the pressure. A small wound on her cheek served as a little reminder of the punches she had endured earlier, first in the room with the three guards and then in the Arena, her bruise on her cheek had turned into an open wound.

And then suddenly, from the shadows emerged Feyd Rautha, silently commanding the enforcers to leave them alone.

The enforcers hesitated before finally leaving the room as instructed, leaving behind an uneasy atmosphere.
She was seated in her chair, Zurayeh watched him approach with caution. As he drew nearer, reaching out his hand to her face, she instinctively turned her head away, a silent plea for him to keep his distance.

"Don't," she warned, her voice firm, hoping to dissuade him from whatever he had in mind.
Feyd Rautha ignored her plea, he grabbed her wrists tightly, his silence adding to the tension thickening the air between them.

Avoiding eye contact, Zurayeh kept her head turned away, exposing her wound to his probing gaze.
With deliberate slowness, he traced his finger along the raw wound, causing her to tense up involuntarily. The air was charged with something strange as he sought to manipulate her into joining him

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Her legs quivered with bruises as he got closer, with a damp cloth in hand. He rubbed the damp cloth on her raw wound, cleaning it, his touch was unexpectedly gentle amidst the tension that hung in the air like a heavy shroud.
"You fought well, sand rat," he murmured softly as he worked.