Throw me in a landfill; don't think about the consequences.- Daughter, Landfill
Sera hadn't attended the Emperor's speech, as she hadn't cared what he had to say. He'd made such speeches on dozens of planets in the five years since he'd ascended to the throne, and Beakkal was no exception. She wondered if anyone had actually thrown rotten vegetables at him, the way they'd bragged about having planned to do. Clearly no one who'd boasted their intent to kill him had done so, at least. But then, no one but Sera had actually prepared for the task.
She'd trained for months, and she'd fully accepted the likelihood of her own demise, whether she was successful or not. That was fine, she figured; one less mouth taking food from her younger siblings. Her mother always said she ate too much of the bread they made to sell, and that it showed.
She wasn't skilled enough—or strong enough—to best a warrior like Paul Atreides in combat, so she was relying on the element of surprise. She'd have one chance at cutting his throat with her knife. One chance to right the wrongs he'd done, avenge the lives he'd taken in his foolish war of revenge.
The late afternoon sun was hot on Sera's back as she moved silently between the buildings, noting the shift in material as she moved between the buildings the Emperor walked past; rotting wood that changed to well-kept stone in the rich part of town. This was good— there were less people here. Not that anyone would get in her way, of course. No one on Beakkal would take issue with the Emperor being killed.
Except, she thought with a smirk, the glint of her dark green eyes locked on her oblivious target, for those idiot officials who didn't think to instill extra guards to protect the Emperor, of all people.
Well. Their foolishness was Sera's gain. No, it was the Known Universe's gain. Every single one of the Atreides' subjects would benefit from his death, they just didn't know it yet. Centuries from now, they'd thank her. She didn't need to be a martyr, didn't need to be a hero, but it sure as hell wouldn't hurt if people appreciated her taking one for the team. There was no way she'd make it out of this situation alive, but she'd do her damnedest to take him down with her.
She inched closer to him. Damn. He was so much taller than she'd expected; men on Beakkal didn't tower over her half as much, but this snooty rich boy born of the Bene Gesserit breeding program must've had at least a foot on her, the bastard. She'd have to use the extra weight she had on him to her advantage. That was fine; she could do that.
She was close enough now. Just a few more steps, and then...
Sera launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground and straddling his waist. Her knife wasn't the best quality, but she put it to his throat anyway.
Except—
The air around his form vibrated and changed color, much to her astonishment, and she realized there was a crucial fact she hadn't thought to account for:
The bastard could afford a shield.
Frozen in shock, Sera looked into his eyes. A strange, incomprehensible feeling washed over her.
You, her mind told her in an unfamiliar, echoing voice. I am meant to know you as I know no other. I was crafted for you and you alone.
To make matters even worse—if that were possible—he was staring into her eyes intently, the blue glow of his gaze eerie, and then he reached up and yanked the cloth that covered her face down so that it pooled at her neck. An unmistakable glint of both recognition and awe filtered into his shocked expression.
"Sera," he breathed.
Her eyes widened, and before she could blink, she was pulled off of him with a jerk.
Two of his guards held her by her arms so her feet were barely touching the ground. "How do you know my name?" she demanded, the abrupt hiss of her voice hiding the sharpness of her fear.
She'd assumed that in the event of her failure, she'd have been dead by this point. Instead of ordering his men to execute her, however, the Emperor stood to his full height, towering over her even on her toes, and addressed his guards with the commanding tone of a man who was used to being obeyed.
"Don't harm her."
His guards froze, and Sera stared at him in shock.
"In fact," he went on, "release her."
The guards raised their eyebrows at him but obeyed the command instantly.
"Leave us," the Emperor said shortly, not taking his eyes off her.
"Majesty—" one of the guards spoke up hesitantly.
The Emperor fixed the man with a look, and both guards immediately walked away.
Sera had heard about the glowing blue eyes of the Emperor, but she hadn't been entirely sure the rumors were true. They very much were, though— the Atreides had a spice addiction, and the effects on his eyes were most certainly unnerving.
"You tried to kill me," he observed.
Sera said nothing.
"Why?" he demanded.
She still didn't respond, and he tilted his head slightly, his unnervingly blue gaze flitting over her form as if he were trying to see everything that she was.
He wouldn't tell her how he knew her name, so why should she tell him why she'd tried to rid his Empire of him?
"Very well," the Emperor said with a sigh, "I'll take you home. Your parents should hear of this."
Sera blanched. "Kill me instead."
He raised an eyebrow. "You'd rather die than be taken to your parents?"
Again, she said nothing. She was being melodramatic, true, but she wasn't about to tell him that.
"Then that will be your punishment," he decided.
Sera gaped at him and wondered why in the hell he was being so lenient, so merciful. Before she could even think to ask how he knew where she lived, she was being led home.
"Seraphine," her mother snapped the second the door was opened, the syllables of her name drawn-out and enunciated; See-ruh-feen. "Where have you been, you ungrateful girl—" she cut herself off upon seeing who her daughter was with and quickly swept into a deep curtsy. "Your Majesty!"
"My lady," the Emperor said politely, inclining his head in acknowledgement, though he must've known full well that Sera's mother held no title. "I wish I came bearing happier news," he continued, "but I'm afraid that your daughter has committed a most egregious crime."
Hands on her hips—wide, much like Sera's own, though her mother would never admit it in a thousand years—, she asked, "What's she gone and done now?"
"She attempted regicide," the Emperor said apologetically.
Sera glared viciously at the back of his head and wished very much that the dirt floor would swallow him whole.
Putting a hand to her chest as if she hadn't known full well her daughter had been planning the assassination for months, her mother exclaimed, "I am so sorry, Majesty. She is a vile and willful girl; I pray you will not judge our family as a whole on her misdeeds." Before the Emperor could speak, she added, "You may do as you will with her. I'm far too ashamed to keep her here."
The Emperor froze, and Sera could hear the shock in his voice when he spoke, though she stood behind him and couldn't see his expression. "You'd give your own child up so easily?"
Her mother crossed her arms and glared fiercely at Sera. "She has dishonored our family. I have no use for her."
"No use for her," he mused softly. "Very well then." Turning abruptly on his heel, he strode back out the door, stopping once he'd stepped over the threshold and realized that Sera still hadn't moved from where she stood. "Let's go, Sera."
She followed in a sort of daze, though she snapped out of it once she passed through the door. "I won't be your servant," she snapped. "You'll just have to kill me."
"You're not going to be my servant," the Emperor assured her, "and I'll not kill you, either. You'll be safe with me."
"Safe," she scoffed. "I'm safer here."
Pausing his stride and turning on his heels to face her, he said, "How is a life with a woman who is willing to give you away at the first opportunity better than a comfortable life with me?"
Sera's jaw tensed and she lifted her chin defiantly. "A life with anyone else is better than a life with you."
And then, for the first time since she'd met him, the Emperor smirked, and he said, "Give it time. You'll change your tune before long."
Before she knew what was happening, she was flying offworld, bound for the new seat of the Golden Lion Throne:
The Atreides homeworld of Caladan.