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Destiny’s Call

Feyd Rautha x f!Atreides reader

a/n: This story was another labour of love. It is sort of an AU of my gladiator Feyd fic. Because I just want to read the same story with the same character multiple times. It was born from the constant discord chatter about Feyd-appropriate wedding dresses. To a normal person that would make no sense but to us Feyd girlies it does. Thank you @zaldritzosrose for your constant support while writing this and for these beautiful discretion banners. Posting this week as a birthday gift to myself 🤭

tags: 18+, fluff, smut, angst, arranged marriage, canon divergence, i took liberties with canon lore, feyd is unhinged and depraved, feyd and reader are obsessed with each other, paul is baby bro, house rivalries, wedding customs, animal fight, mention of pubic hair removal, mentions of secondary character deaths

The Bene Gesserit had made their claim years ago. And they did not care for a small hitch in their plans. Lady Jessica had chosen to bear a son but there was still a girl of Atreides blood who could bear the Kwisatz Haderach…..even if she wasn’t trained in their ways.

And so as soon as news of your half brother’s birth reached them, their sights shifted to you: Leto Atreides’s older daughter born of his first marriage. Your mother had died of an illness when you were but three. Lady Jessica had married your father soon after and so you were still malleable. She pitied you but was grateful to spare her own child from the hand fate wished to deal while still fulfilling her oaths as a Bene Gesserit, and so promptly persuaded your father to agree to the betrothal between House Harkonnen and House Atreides.

No one ever asked you if you wanted it.

To make things official, an envoy led by the Baron arrived at your doorstep. The way the pudgy man’s oil-like eyes slithered around the room had even your ten year old self on edge. You were dressed head to toe in your house’s regalia; your father had insisted that you should not be flounced before the Harkonnens but he did make it a point to show that his house was your protector.

The Baron appraised you thoughtfully before nodding.

“She will learn to honour us, I’m sure,” he sneered, ever tactful.

Your betrothed however was more straightforward.

He took one look at you and scowled.

“She will wear black for the ceremony,” he made his will known and Lady Jessica had to place a gentle hand upon her husband's arm to remind him to be mindful of court etiquette.

“Does she know how to wield a blade?” Feyd questioned, circling you like prey.

His uncle had instructed him to behave but he still had every intention of pushing the boundaries of social norm.

No one had asked him if he even wanted this.

“I do not, lord,” you replied bravely when you spied your father’s seething face.

Feyd paused in his steps.

“I did not ask you. Harkonnen women do not speak unless spoken to.”

Your spirits fell as he spoke.

You knew you were no great beauty and your only worth to his people was your status as your father’s daughter. But no one in your home had ever made you feel less than.

“I am an Atreides, my lord.”

Your words rang through the hall and the air was still as a tomb. From the corner of your eye you saw your father’s men place their hands upon their blades.

Then the Baron’s laughter rang out, clashing like cymbals against the stone walls of your fortress but it was enough to shift the mood.

“She has the Atreides fire, Leto!”

You weren’t sure if that was a compliment or a threat and your father seemed to be of the same mind.

You saw Feyd glance briefly at his uncle then he was stoic as well, no more an unruly boy of twelve.

“For now,” he acquiesced in reply to your earlier comment, then joined his uncle at their table.

Lady Jessica escorted you out and was quick to hug you when you reached your chambers.

“You did well,” she praised you.

You simply nodded and removed your attire piece by piece, mind reeling with many thoughts; all of them riddled with doubt.

Paul was exactly the type of sibling you would’ve wanted. He was usually quiet, though a little more adventurous than you. But he did enjoy joining you in your scholarly pursuits as well. Which is why he had thought nothing of it when you had asked him to help you research the Harkonnens. In fact, he was excited, just as eager to learn about the famed warrior race, although your reasons were decidedly different. 

The two of you had raked up as many filmbooks as you could find, listening to the accounts of history and looking at pictures of what was meant to be your home world in a few years.

It was so different. Where Caladan was full of wildlife and flora of all kinds, Geidi Prime was a different kind of jungle. One built of concrete and fire. The industries seemed to sprawl over every inch and it was said the sun leeched color from everything. Your mind wandered to your guests, their skins pale as ivory tusks and clothing black as ink. 

Would that be your life? Colourless and savage?

There was only one way to find out.

Your father would be furious if he found out what you were doing. But this was your only chance.

Your heart beat fast beneath your ribcage as you stole through the plantation.

You found Feyd training alone, several feet outside the back gate.

He was fighting a hologram of what appeared to be a man twice his size and clad only in some kind of ceremonial skirt. There were markings on the chest and face and they reminded you of the house help Gurney had once brought, which he later told you were incarcerated men being rehabilitated.

You weren’t sure how to get Feyd’s attention without interrupting so you waited. But it seemed he already knew.

With a final turn he arced his blade, slicing the man in half, his eyes boring into yours.

“Little mouse.”

No one had ever compared you to a mouse before and you scowled.

“I am not a mouse!”

His chuckle was like iron grating against wood.

“Aren’t you?” He strode over lazily, and took a strand of your hair between his fingers, rubbing it as if assessing the texture.

“You look like a mouse. All hairy and….warm.” He tsked as if it was a bad thing. “And you’re scared just like one. You’re scared of me like the ones I trap back home.”

Your eyes widened.

“Why do you trap them?”

His smile widened and you noticed the back rows were painted black.

“Because they’re pests.”

“Is that what I am?”

Feyd snorted.

“Do you even know what you’re supposed to do, little mouse? What you owe me once we are wed?”

Your frown deepened.

“The dowry is already paid…”

The bark of his mocking laugh echoed through the clearing.

“It is as I thought! You are a clueless, half-witted child who has no idea of what destiny calls for.”

He stepped closer thumping the hilt of his knife against his chest.

“I am Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. I am heir apparent to my house and the man who will herald the new age with or without the Kwasitz Haderach. I know my destiny.”

Tears of anger and humiliation burned behind your eyes but you kept your composure.

“I only came to give you this.”

You placed the small box inlaid with ivory pearls at his feet and ran away before he could see the tears streaming down your face.

He would find you even weaker.

Feyd rolled his eyes at your dramatics. At least Harkonnen women knew their place. Although, you had worn black today….

Frustrated, he kicked at the box sending it flying a few feet away, the lid falling open. Whatever had been inside glinted in the evening sun and Feyd blinked uneasily.

All this colour gave him a headache….

He ventured closer, picking the object to examine it and stilled as realization settled in.

In his hand was a small dagger, sharp and polished, its hilt bearing the mark of House Ordos.

Paul had helped you steal the blade from your father’s weapons hoard. 

It was a tradition among your people that the bride and groom could exchange gifts, apart from the dowry and the bride price paid by their respective houses. You did not expect Feyd to know this but you thought it could be a gesture on your part to show him your commitment.

True, you were doing this as your duty to your family and the empire. Perhaps even the galaxy, as a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother had once impressed upon you. You did not understand fully what that meant only that your child with Feyd was meant as a harbinger of a new age.

You would be married off to some lord somewhere anyways, you had reasoned. If your actions could benefit your family and the world at large, who were you to say no to this match?

Besides, Feyd seemed clever and reclusive, qualities you admired, even if he was quick to temper.

But his constant derision for you had taken its toll when he continued to ignore you at every dinner.

You knew how much the Harkonnens relished war and weaponry so you had made one last attempt to forge the bond you two were meant to carry for eternity.

Obviously, you had failed.

Where before Feyd had at least regarded you with contempt, he now ignored you completely. You wilted, unsure which felt worse.

So right before the Harkonnen envoy was meant to return to their homeworld, you went to your father and confessed to everything, citing your reasoning as you cried. You had expected him to storm out and ask for the blade’s return but he did no such thing, simply taking you in his arms and apologizing as if this were all his fault.

You kept your gaze trained to the ground while you stood behind your father and Lady Jessica on the platform, a formal gathering to see off the Harkonnens.

Had you braved a peek you would have seen the Ordos dagger sheathed at the hip of your betrothed, his gaze never wavering from your figure until Caladan was but a speck in space.

I know my destiny.

Those words haunted you until you realised their true meaning. 

And so you set to work. 

You badgered your father and his men until they had no choice but to agree to train you. To them you would always be the little girl they needed to protect but you saw in your mind’s eye what you needed to become. A woman who would not need a man’s protection or blade to save her. You learned everything you could find about the Harkonnens, fact or fiction. And a begrudging admiration bloomed in your heart for their customs and rituals.

Harkonnens were unafraid to yield to their primal desires. And your husband-to-be was no doubt the right choice to lead them, from what you heard of his reputation over the years.

Your family and friends tried to hide his crusades from you but you had learned to pick up on their discomfort and whispered words.

At first you had wallowed in self pity once the envoy had left your home. For many months you had waited, expecting Feyd to call off the match, sure that he would humiliate you and your family one last time. 

But no such message ever came.

So instead you wrote to him. A few times every month, expressing simple thoughts on things you had read about in a book or seen. You didn’t expect him to answer and he never did. You were sure he didn’t even read the words you wrote so you wrote with abandon, satisfied to talk to the void and share your deepest thoughts and curious queries.

Do you know if verite truly makes men speak truth?

Do you think the Ordos have passed on into extinction?

Have the Benne Gesserit ever visited you?

I beat father at chess today. We were both surprised.

I saw a black snake in the tall grass. I almost screamed but its scales reminded me of your eyes. So I didn’t.

On the eve of your eighteenth name day, one year before you would be married, a chest arrived from Geidi Prime.  

It was accompanied by a mentat who announced it as a gift from the Harkonnen heir for his bride.

Many gathered round, expecting a chestful of jewels and gold. Perhaps rich harkonnen velvet. Or even something more rare like melange.

However, when the contents were revealed, a disappointed murmur went through the crowd.

Nestled in the centre was an onyx blade, long and sharp.

A lady had no use for a weapon, even one of Atreides descent. The war mongering Harkonnens were fools, they thought to themselves.

But as you held the blade, its weight perfectly balanced in your hand, you smiled to yourself, knowing the true meaning of the gift.

Destiny was calling and you would answer.

As your nineteenth name day approached, Lady Jessica’s preparations came to a head. 

Your trousseau was packed into ornate crests. 

Gifts for the groom’s family wrapped in opulent mesh. Your family had been instructed not to send any handmaidens as those would be provided for you. You did insist on taking some of your dearest belongings along, books and trinkets, itching to have a few small pieces of home with you. 

The Harkonnens seemed to discourage the idea of being weighed down by personal belongings despite the vast wealth they had accumulated. You felt this would be a fair trade off.

Gurney could barely look you in the eye without crying. Your father wavered between staying by your side or holing up in his office. Paul followed you like a faithful pet. He was now cognizant of the truth behind your match and had raged and cried before his parents until he was hoarse.

You had taken him to the library, always your shared sanctuary, and held him as he sobbed.

“We all have our duty, brother. This is mine.”

He peeked up at you, cheeks streaked with tears.

“They can’t be trusted. You’ll be all alone,” he begged. “I won’t allow it!”

His conviction brought a smile to your face.

“Oh, you won’t allow it?” You mused.

“I know how to wield a blade, I will cut them down if they hurt you!” 

His words were reassuring but you couldn’t admit that to his face, so you simply huffed a laugh and caressed his cheek.

“It seems even on Caladan I’m surrounded by Harkonnens…” you teased him, but his resolve was solid.

“I’m serious, sister. Your betrothed is no kind man.”

His words made you sigh. How could you make the boy understand that you had been resigned to this fate for a while and such truths did not matter now?

“You can say no.”

The quiet whisper, both an encouragement and a plea pulled at your heart strings, causing you to cast your arms around your brother in a protective halo.

“And further the divide between our houses?” you chided him softly, sweeping the dark curls that fell across his eyes. “Besides, if I wanted to, I would’ve done it years ago.”

You hoped those words would be enough to assure him of your willingness in the matter, and for a few moments he seemed to contemplate them.

“How could you possibly want this?” He asked at last with begrudging acceptance.

“Paul,” you sighed, trying to make him see. “I cannot outrun matrimony. It is better I walk into the den of an enemy I have met than one I know nothing of.”

“Fine. But at the slightest sign of doubt, I will be by your side, ready to deliver you from danger.”

His words both stunned and vexed you.

“I am not ten anymore, Paul. I can protect myself now.”

“We both know no blade will be a match for your husband’s,” he reminded you, a placating hand resting on yours.

You nodded once before bringing his head to rest against your shoulder.

“Perhaps. But there is more than one way to fight a war.”

The journey to Geidi Prime was tiresome. 

You could never get used to space travel unlike the rest of your family. So you took this as a last opportunity to express “weakness” and rested your head against your father’s shoulder, your brother at your other side, holding steadfastly to your hand.

It felt more like a funeral procession than a bridal company and you mused that in a way it was; you would soon belong to another house and have another man’s name linked to yours.

It was the way the world worked.

As tiring as it was, the journey still seemed to end too soon. The Baron’s mentat greeted your family along with an envoy of the Benne Gesserit who had come to oversee their will. You held no love for them but Lady Jessica had been kind to you and your father loved her.

You did not mind sparing your family whatever other twisted fate they would try to enact had this arrangement not been made.

Although they would not be staying behind, a small retinue of servants had accompanied you for the preparations. The official ceremony was to take place first, followed by some rustic rituals including a feast and your husband’s first fight in the arena as a wedded man, before the two of you would be heralded to bed…..to consummate the bond and deliver the heir that was promised.

Lady Jessica had done her best to prepare you. The rest was up to you…..and you had prepared in your own way.

For years in fact.

As your most trusted maids brought forth your garments, you looked at yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your handiwork, fingers dripping black until one of your maids wiped them clean, the other securing a garter at your thigh.

Your husband had an affinity for weapons…..so you would become one.

The cathedral was an architectural marvel.

Painted black in the sun rays filtering through the tall glass windows. The moldings were reminiscent of an age before industrialisation had made its mark on Geidi Prime, handcrafted with sweat and precision.

The lack of colour and music surprisingly suited your mood as your father led you down the aisle, a long embroidered veil trailing behind you, to where your betrothed waited.

You hadn’t seen him in nine years and all you could make of him through the thick traditional veil were his looming stature and broad shoulders, his words ringing in your ears.

She will wear black for the ceremony.

And you had.

An Atreides design but pitch black as the scales of a mamba serpent you had once seen in the thick growth behind your house. Small florets were embroidered across the bodice, onyx beads glittering like jewels in their midst. Your shoulders were bare, bolder than anything you had worn in your life but the straps were fashioned like Harkonnen armour, set below the shoulder to allow room for movement.

You had forgone any jewels, positive that Feyd did not care for such things.

He could not see you either you realised, not until he stepped forward and drew back the heavy veil.

The breath caught behind your ribs.

Gone were the plump cheeks and soft hands of a boy bordering on puberty.

Instead, high cheekbones framed dark irises and a thin nose. His lips were full, his long neck shrouded by a high collar. His skin seemed even paler than you recalled,  hands calloused as they brushed lightly against your hair, the movement like a secret shared between only the two of you. Although the deep black of his robes hid most of him from you, his warrior’s physique was obvious and that was what finally made you glance away.

The realisation that he had indeed become the weapon he had always strived to be.

You barely heard the officiant read the rites or even your own voice as you recited your vows.

But you heard his gravelly tone and felt his scorching gaze even if his face betrayed nothing.

And when your lips bled, you were declared man and wife, your destiny sealed with a single, hungry kiss.

You felt dizzy.

Not from the lack of colour or the excess of strangers.

But from Feyd’s hold on your waist as his fingers dug into your skin like claws, and his lips tasting your lifeblood for the first time. He had savoured it, you could tell from the slow swipe of his tongue against your lacerated flesh. And he would have taken more had you not been parted by the wedding company, and escorted outside.

Outside.

You blinked, reality coming into focus.

It was time for the first ritual, you reminded yourself as the Harkonnens jeered while the Atreides gritted their teeth.

A race to the wedding feast.

It was a strange tradition, old and warped with time as most things were.

The bride and groom were meant to lead their families in a race on foot to the wedding hall. Whoever lost would serve drinks to the family that won. You had read deeply and derived one thing: on Geidi Prime, the ritual wasn’t meant to be fair. The bride’s family were meant to lose to maintain the Harkonnen hierarchy. 

Your circumstances were special, you knew. Your family were outsiders. And the age old grudge only made the competition more stark……

You braced yourself. You would not go down without a fight.

You observed Feyd as he removed his robe, dressed in a simple tunic and trousers underneath. Two servants stepped forward and began to bind armor to his body and Feyd smirked as he held out his arms, as if inviting you in challenge. He regarded your trailing veil and the abundant folds of your dress with the same contempt as he had you when you first met. 

But you were well aware of your disadvantage. You waited patiently.

Instead your eyes drifted to the servants. You had not seen many Harkonnen females, even among their wedding party full of nobility the women were scarce and dressed in the darkest black which made them hard to distinguish from the men.

And they were just as bald. The serving women in particular were short and lean, and Feyd seemed to pay them no mind as they swiftly performed their task and disappeared.

The Harkonnens cheered for their leader, howling and whistling.

As Feyd took his position, you nodded to your own companions.

Your maids stepped forth and undid the lacings of your skirt: revealing a simpler, roomier skirt beneath…..more appropriate for running in. Maintaining eye contact with Feyd, you discarded your veil as well.

The Harkonnens cheers turned to disgruntled exclaims but you knew no one could say for sure that this was against the rules. Still, you waited for Feyd or the Baron to protest.

But no such alarm was raised and Feyd reacted with nothing more than the widening of his eyes and the flaring of his nostrils.

Then he faced the path ahead and so did you; ready to heed destiny’s call.

The cathedral bell rang loud and you took off not sparing a single glance at your betrothed or even your own family; they had their instructions. They would follow your example.

It was exhilarating.

To feel the wind in your hair and the warmth against your skin. 

It reminded you of being home and so you ran until your target was in sight. A black specter blurred past your vision, overtaking you just a few feet from where your feet were meant to reach; in the rush of adrenaline and his men’s drowning cheers no one could spy the coy smile upon your lips. 

No one except your husband who never missed a thing.

A few more traditional games were played including a drinking contest. 

Your father had nominated Duncan as his champion while Feyd’s brother Glossu had stepped forth for the Harkonnens.

It was hard to tell who was winning. Not that you paid it much mind, your thoughts preoccupied by your husband who sat at the other foot of the table.  

The bride and groom were placed at the heads of the table in line with Harkonnen customs, their families filling in the rest.

Your maids had made quick work of redoing the bindings of your ornate skirt and placing it back on your person before you were seated. Paul stole glances at you every now and again, earning a reassuring smile.

Leaving your half-brother was perhaps the hardest part of this act, even more so then leaving your father. But his soft smile and tender gaze also gave you strength to perform your duty. 

A reminder of what you were striving to protect.

You yourself couldn’t help but steal glances at your betrothed, trying to assimilate the idea of this…man, with the image of the young boy who had chased you away with only words as his weapon.

Oftentimes his own gaze would be on you before you had even looked, the same glass of ale resting by his hand as had been placed since the feast began. He did not seem to be in a drinking mood or perhaps wasn’t drinking in anticipation of the final ritual before the night came: his first fight as a man newly wedded.

You watched, unmoving, as a few of his soldiers arrived by his side and he marched away, likely to prepare. 

Only vague memories of his much shorter form battling a hologram remained and you found your body humming with the thrill of watching one of the most famed warriors of your generation in battle.

You were thankful that your family was not required to provide an opponent, you mused as you traveled to the arena in small shuttles. The Baron and his soldiers led you and your family to the royal box, high above the actual fighting ground. 

You frowned wondering how you would be able to see anything from this distance. 

The Baron seemed to notice this, chuckling as his servants brought you a pair of queer looking binoculars. As the Na-Baroness, you were now seated next to the wily old man and did your best to steel your nerves in his presence.

As the doors to the arena opened, you held up the instrument to your eyes and finally caught a glimpse of your husband striding to the middle, hands held high. One carried a blade pale as his own skin and the other wielded an onyx knife.

A twin.

Your heartbeat sped up as you looked on with bated breath. Feyd’s eyes seemed to find yours despite the distance and his lips gave the barest twitch before he turned to face his opponent.

A loud braying was heard, silencing the crowds before a fast moving creature belted past Feyd, the Harkonnen barely avoiding impact.

As the beast collided with the walls and righted itself, pawing at the sand, the whole arena seemed to recoil: a Salusan Bull.

Native to Salusa Secundus, they were one of the obstacles the emperor’s Sardukar army faced in their training. Your own grandfather had lost his life to one…..

And now Feyd seemed to be fighting it.

You had to dig your soles into the stone floor, grinding your nails into the wooden rests of your armchair as you willed yourself not to show your trepidation.

Surely, Feyd had gone mad. Facing an animal that could lead to potential death. Did he mean to make you a widow out of spite? 

Your anger surged stronger than your fear as you watched him dodge the animal as if he was unbothered by the threat it posed.

The audience seemed to recover and cheer on their Na-Baron, which seemed to add to his drive. He appeared to be relying on a tactic which focused on moving out of harm’s way at the last minute as the beast’s weight hindered its maneuverability. 

Steeling yourself to glance at the animal through your binoculars, its hide coarse and rage unrelenting, a distant thought strayed into your mind. Once during a training session with you and your brother, Duncan had revealed a rumour: that your betrothed drugged his opponents in the arena to ensure his upper hand.

Of course, by your house’s standards, this was considered dishonorable. But Feyd was no Atreides…..

You were aware that your husband was equipped with a Holtzman shield but you prayed silently that he had drugged the untamable animal as well, if such a thing were even possible.

In this moment you found yourself caring not for honor but for the boy who had barely spoken a kind word to you over the course of these nine years. Perhaps you were no more your father’s daughter; only your husband’s wife.

He had slain the beast.

You didn’t know how and you almost didn’t care.

Until you saw the small dagger he had used to deliver the final blow and slice open the beast’s belly.

A dagger with the Ordos emblem in its hilt.

Blood stained his armour and his hands, a few stray specks splattered across his face as Feyd grinned, blackened teeth glinting in the dimly lit corridors as the two of you were led to your marital bed.

His brother led the Harkonnen witnesses and Lady Jessica led the Atreides.

Upon reaching the intended doors, Feyd turned upon both.

“If I find a single ear pressed against this door, I will skin it off its owner, slowly, and then I will make sure none of you retain your hearing for the remainder of your sorry lives.”

His men knew better than to question his threat, though Glossu looked disgruntled, and Jessica bowed her head in compliance. They filtered back down the corridor you had just arrived and finally Feyd thrust open the large doors.

He waited for you to cross the threshold before shutting them with a resounding bang.

The chambers were unsurprisingly dark and dimly lit by small lamps, invisible against the furnishings.

A sizable crest was pushed against the farthest wall. Its top had been fashioned into a glass case in which were stored blades of various shapes and sizes. A table and two chairs sat unassumingly in the middle of the room,  laden with what appeared to be bowls of fruit and a casket of drink and two goblets.

The adjoining room simply contained a low bed and a tall mirror resting against the opposite wall, making the room appear larger than it was. A door led off to what you assumed were the wardrobe and bathing chambers, recalling what you could of the guest quarters you had been housed in this morning.

A breath ghosted at the nape of your neck drawing you back into the present.

“Do you approve, little mouse?”

His words were both a caress and a lure.

“Of what?”

“Of your trap.”

You pretended to give the space a once over then nodded perfunctorily.

“It’ll do.”

You stepped up to the mirror, towing off your shoes and slowly unraveling the front of your hair.

Feyd regarded you quietly.

“Has the little mouse grown brave?” He mocked, coming to stand behind you, eyes pinned to yours in the mirror.

“Or perhaps you’ve grown soft.”

Feyd scoffed, jaw unhinging into a broad smile.

“I just slayed the most dangerous animal in the galaxy in your honour. You should show me some gratitude.”

You blinked trying not to be mesmerized by the sight of his teeth up close.

“My honour or yours?” You met his scoff with your own

“Ours.” 

His black orbs bored into yours

“Ours.” 

You agreed, pulling at the ties of your skirt behind your back but his hands gripped yours in a vice.

“Keep it on, little mouse. The colour becomes you.”

You swallowed involuntarily even as Feyd Rautha fell into your trap, his lips lowering to the pulse at your throat. Craning your neck you gave him access, and his breath skimmed your flesh, teasing you, his arms wrapping around your waist as your hands rested on his, the feel of rusting blood surprisingly pleasant.

“Why didn’t you write back?”

Your words made him halt, your face arranged into one of those masks he liked to wear.

“I am no scribe,” he sneered, teeth nipping at your throat.

“And I am just a scared little pest. Yet you bequeathed me a knife for my name day.”

He rested his forehead against your temple for a moment, his eyes drifting close.

“Was it to your liking?”

His words caught you by surprise, his tone more so, the undercurrent of doubt not escaping your notice.

“You have a twin,” you observed, noncommittal, and he hummed, opening his eyes and catching your gaze in the mirror.

“They are meant for each other,” he murmured, lips brushing your hair.

And then you finally saw it as well as felt it.

The unabashed desire in his eyes, the heat of his skin on yours, the evidence of his manhood pressed against your hips.

You were glad of the support afforded to you by his arms, for a moment almost stumbling from the sheer force of his brazen want, and his smirk widened as your hold on him tightened.

“Something bothering you, mouse?”

Perhaps boldness was the only language he understood.

“Your armor is digging into my flesh,” you complained but he knew what you meant because the next moment he had taken a step back and was extending his arms outwards.

“Then why don’t you remove it.”

You hummed, finally turning to face him and for a moment it seemed you were both back in that cathedral, your lips pressed together as you bound your union.

The same thought must have occurred to Feyd because his eyes drifted down to the flesh of your lips before you stepped forward and began to undo the clasps of his armour. He hummed in approval at the steadiness of your actions.

“I see you have been learning.”

You didn’t react with anything more than the tilt of your head, stepping around him to undo the lower bits. Couching, your skirt pooling around you, you undid the clasps of his knee pads and he turned, towering over your kneeling form.

His fingers caught a few strands of your hair, rubbing them between his fingers as if admiring the texture.

“Get up, little mouse.”

You stood up, facing him and he smiled, pleased at your obedience.

Taking you by the shoulders and turning you so that your back was to him, he slipped the dagger you had gifted him to under the ties of your corset, cutting through. Pulling at the frayed edges, his lips lowered to trail over your shoulders as he slowly peeled the layer of black from your skin….

He halted mid-action.

“What is this?”

His voice gave away nothing but you knew of what he spoke.

“I am a Harkonnen now, my lord,” your words echoed through the chambers. “And to a Harkonnen, everything is war.”

His fingers dug into your shoulders, pain blooming across your skin but you did not so much as wince as Feyd moved you to face the mirror once again.

Quietly, his hands returned to pulling your corset away although this time his actions were faster, discarding the ruined fabric at your feet.

Even in the dim light the black paint glimmered on your skin. 

You had come across the markings in your research on his house and traditions. The ones below your breasts were meant to showcase your allegiance to his house. The ones across your back symbolized your birth and wedding into Houses Major. The one just above your hip was a nod to your combined future: a symbol meant to grant fertility.

Feyd was silent for many minutes during which your heart beat picked up, blood rushing past your ears.

But then he was pulling at his tunic, removing it with one swift move and you gaped at the markings littering his own body, awed by the exposed expanse of skin.

“Who put them on you?”

There was an edge to his voice which you couldn’t decipher.

“I did.”

His eyes widened and you heard him inhale in surprise.

Then his fingers were splaying over your skin, spreading across your markings, his chest pressing flush against your back and you leaned into him with an exhale of your own.

“Good. Then you will do mine from now on.”

It surprised you how unbothered you were by your own immodesty as his gaze roved over you hungrily.

Feyd lowered himself to his knees, kissing along your side as he went. One hand slipped to rest on your ankle and your own rested against the smooth back of his skull.

As his free hand undid the bindings of your skirt, his other hand trailed along your leg, above your knee and across your thigh before he paused for the second time this night.

A sadistic grin unfurled across his face.

“Someone came looking for a fight,” he taunted you, his hand closing around the hilt of the blade nestled against your thigh.

Your smile matched his to a degree that should’ve scared you but only served to turn him on.

“I told you, husband. I have come to meet my destiny.”

You saw the conviction that rolled through his body at your words in the widening of his eyes and heard it in the wavering of his exhale before a soft kiss was pressed to the back of your waist. Then Feyd unsheathed the knife beneath your skirts and used it to tear through the fabric still shielding you from his eyes.

The lighter skirt beneath fluttered to your feet while the heavier fabric on top resisted. Feyd slashed through it methodically, securing an arm beneath your hips to lift you free and you squealed as your arms instinctively wrapped around him for balance.

Guffawed laughter filled the room as Feyd threw you down on the bed making you bounce and then crawled atop you, pressing the onyx blade to your throat.

“You have managed to surprise me, little mouse. Not many do,” he informed you with what appeared to be happiness instead of disappointment.

“It surprises you that I would claim my destiny?” You challenged him, arching your neck to meet the blade.

He hummed as if expecting your fire.

You felt the tip of your own blade pierce the skin along your collarbone, his black irises dilating greedily as he eyed the small rivulets of blood.

“You have done well, for an Atreides.”

His words seemed to have the opposite effect to what he must have intended because he dropped the knife, surprised by the way you twisted his wrist and pushed at him so that he was the one trumped onto his back, your smaller frame straddling him on the bed.

You pressed the blade to his throat, same as he had done to you, hair falling around you.

“Need I remind you who I am, husband?”

Neither of you backed down, staring the other down as your chests heaved.

It was Feyd that conceded, to his own surprise.

“Becoming my bride suits you, little mouse,” he chortled gleefully, easily lifting himself up so that you were now bundled into his lap.

He took the knife from you and placed it aside.

“Harkonnen women are meant to be much more docile,” he quickly pressed a finger to your lips as you made to protest. “But I think I prefer the kind of woman you’ve become.”

You glared at him lightly but he only pressed his forehead to yours.

“I like when my prey fights back.”

Despite his words, you decided to stop fighting him for just a moment, breathing each other in.

“I read every word you wrote,” he whispered, your breaths mingling into one

“Then why didn’t you write back?” You whispered back, letting the hurt show.

And damn him to hell if he thinks it weak, you thought to yourself.

He sighed.

“If knowing how to spell a herald or to read a transmission didn’t serve a purpose in war, my uncle would not have bothered with my learning.”

With that one sentence you understood more about him than you had in the past nine years.

“Did he read any of it?” You asked with trepidation, gently taking his face in your hands.

“At first, yes,” he admitted, tracing stained fingers along your cheek, the dried blood flaking off.

“But now I have those who are loyal only to me. And I have guarded your words since the moment I could.”

“Thank you,” you found yourself murmuring as his lips ghosted over yours.

“Finally,” his lip twitched as he murmured back. “A little gratitude.”

And you both smiled as your lips met in battle.

His fingers were but a whisper against your thighs, his lips trailing wet kisses in their wake.

As if he hadn’t just abused your lips to the point of bruising, splitting your cut open upon his tongue and then soothing it with the same muscle.

“You’re softer than I remember,” he mused. “….and warmer.”

“Do you approve, husband?” You teased him with his own words and his eyes shone like scarabs in the low light.

“Very much,” he grinned wolfishly.

He pressed a soft kiss to the crease of your thigh and a moan rose from you unbidden. At once, you slapped a hand to your lips, Feyd’s rich laugh ringing in your ears.

“Ah. The mouse still squeaks,” he preened at how your body responded to his touch.

His own lithe form craned above yours as he began to lay kisses along your breasts, tongue darting out to wet your soft peaks until they were stiff.

You whimpered beneath his ministrations, hands clamping onto his taut forearms as they supported his weight above you, pushing him away and pulling him closer at the same time.

His tongue traced a slow, moist trail along your stomach down to the dip of your hips. He paused there, fingers tracing the skin thoughtfully.

“You have removed the hair,” he hummed. “Is that ……customary?”

Among the Atreides. The words were left unspoken and you wondered why but decided to be honest.

“It is a common enough practice, but it is not required.”

His gaze raised to meet yours but he did not respond.

And it never strayed as his face dipped, tongue stretched out and he placed a single unhurried swipe along your folds, tongue swirling at the very last moment as it reached your bud.

Your hands reached for the sides of his head, your entire body arched in a silent scream.

“Feyd!”

Your gasp was like a battle cry to his ears as he spread your thighs apart and began to feast.

You thrashed in his grip, legs trembling, nails scratching along the skin of his shoulders and back. Every hiss and every groan reverberated through the connection between your bodies, sending bolts of pleasure to your cores. Feyd’s hips rutted against the sheets, still bound by his britches, seeking friction on instinct.

Your own mind was hinged only on chasing the pleasure swelling beneath your skin like a wave, one hand pushing Feyd closer by the neck the other reaching for your breasts.

As you pawed at your own chest, your climax tore through you like an avalanche uprooting everything in its path, the force thrusting your body further into Feyd’s hold allowing his tongue to burrow even deeper.

He had to force his hips to still or he would have lost the fight then and there, your undoing becoming his.

His movements slowed as aftershocks rocked your hips pleasantly against his lips. He eagerly lapped up every drop he could, lazily detaching from your nethers to slink back up against your body.

“Taste yourself, wife,” he murmured, stealing a languid kiss and you moaned at the bittersweet taste made all  the sweeter by the warmth of his mouth upon yours.

Perspiration cooled along your bodies making your skin stick together, and Feyd drew his head back just a few inches, letting his spit dribble into your waiting mouth.

You swallowed without instruction.

It seemed to you there was no depravity you weren’t willing to commit anymore.

“Can I paint my teeth black as well?” You finally asked him, a question you had meant to ask nine years ago, back in that clearing behind your fort.

Feyd smiled brightly, choosing to respond instead by taking your lips in another searing kiss.

Sharp fingers dug into your skin as once more he laid a trail of sloppy kisses down to your abdomen and you simply smoothed your hands over his forehead and cheeks, satisfied with the unspoken exchange between the two of you.

Feyd lifted himself off the bed. 

With his back to you still, he pushed his britches down his legs, stepping out of them, slowly turning to face you.

No words passed between you as you finally took all of him in. He watched your lip part in silence, eyes going wide at the sight before you and your body moved forward on instinct, resting on your knees before him.

He held one hand out and you nuzzled your cheek against his palm, eyes never straying. He allowed the moment of contact to continue for a few moments, then his fingers slithered into your unbound hair, twisting as he drew you closer.

Your eyes found his and he saw the hesitancy in them, understanding it for what it truly was.

His free hand dipped under your chin, fingers drumming against it soothingly.

“Let me show you, princess.”

You allowed his thumb to press against your bottom lip, drawing it open.

“Wider,” he instructed and you followed, tongue sticking out reflexively.

Feyd hummed approvingly, pressing down on it, rubbing his thumb along the rough muscle.

“See, you’re a natural,” he smirked.

Your brows furrowed but you barely had any time to react as Feyd pushed the tip of his manhood into your open mouth.

Your eyes squeezed shut, his scent overpowering your senses and the muscles of your throat closed up for a brief moment.

But Feyd did not proceed any further, instead drawing back a few centimeters before thrusting forward again.

“Mind your teeth,” he tsked and you quickly lowered your mouth, nostrils flaring, the muscles in your jaw straining as you peered up at him.

Feyd groaned, removing himself entirely and dipping his head to rest against yours.

“You fight well, little mouse,” he mumbled against your temple, lips brushing your hairline in a tender kiss before he once again forced your spit slickened lips open and this time thrust all of him inside.

Feyd seemed to choke on air as you choked on his length, his fist tightening in your hair, your hands resting on his thighs as you gagged reflexively around him, but did not waver an inch.

“Good girl.”

The mewl you responded with made him groan loudly, body bowing further and his length seemed to pulsate inside you.

You peered up at him apologetically and he groaned again, thrusting shallowly for a few moments then pulling out, threads of your saliva trailing in his wake.

“I tire of waiting,” he practically growled, flipping your legs from beneath you so that you landed on your back. He crawled atop you with determination etched on his face, eyes smoldering like two pieces of coal.

He leaned on one forearm, using the other to guide your hand to pump him. Although you had just had him in your mouth, the mix of soft skin on hardened muscle still made you inhale deeply, the throbbing of his veins much more apparent under your inexperienced touch.

“Line me with yourself….there…..” he guided you, and you could tell he was restraining himself, his gaze hungrily eyeing the point where your bodies were meant to connect.

Your hips jolted at the feeling of his member brushing against your folds and you breathed loudly as you steeled yourself. 

His lips lowered to the side of your throat, sucking at the clammy skin.

“Easy, little mouse…..it’s just me…..”

He dipped his hips once more, this time parting your folds and your muscles seemed to know to make room for him.

“Just destiny…..”

You whispered to yourself, though Feyd heard you, nudging your cheek with the tip of his nose.

One more push and more of him slid inside.

“That’s right,” he murmured against your cheek as you gasped at the intrusion. “You are meant for me as I am for you,” he reminded you, before diving deep in one fluid stroke and whatever barrier was inside you gave way as you cried out in scorching pain, your scream muffled against his shoulder as he cradled your face to his skin.

You whimpered and trembled in his embrace and his thrusts were no more than gentle nudges, as he waited the pain to run its course.

“It’s already done, little one,” he appraised you with gentle kisses along your exposed skin. “You did so well.”

You moaned weakly at his words, your line of sight eclipsed by his alabaster skin.

As your legs shifted and twitched, his thrusts began to pick up pace. 

You groaned as he pulled out more, and pushed in deeper, the sensation burning at first then dulling down to a gratifying friction, making your body thrum with need.

“Feyd,” you whispered, as the feeling from before began to crest inside you, abdomen pulling taut and your husband grinned, his hips thumping harder into your pelvis.

“Wife,” he teased, one hand traveling to your breasts, pulling at your stiffening peaks, the other sheltering your face in the crook of his neck. 

With the last remnants of your awareness, you pressed your lips to his throat, sucking and marking him as he had done to you over the course of the night, your insides clamping down on his length and his hips stuttered at the unexpected touch.

With a growl, he pinned your hips beneath his, thrusting deeper as he fisted a hand in the hair along your nape and twisted your face to the side until your eyes found the image in the mirror across. 

You both watched as the other shattered.

White flashed across your vision as his molten spend pooled inside your womb, ears ringing as your body spasmed beneath his.

Feyd’s lips were parted in a guttural cry as he drained into you completely, hips bucking on instinct to keep his essence from wasting.

Your visions swam as you panted, eyeing each other’s blurry reflection.

A laugh burst forth from your lips, feeling  lighter than you had in years.

“You fought well as well, husband,” your fingers caressed the side of his head and Feyd buried his face against your neck, breathing deep.

“Why do I feel like I just went from being predator to becoming prey?” he mumbled in what you could only describe as a whine, making you laugh harder.

“I’ll try not to stab you,” you gave an experimental roll of your hips and his soft member twitched inside you. 

He moaned lowly.

“I have never asked for mercy just as I have never granted it,” he boasted and you stroked his back with a loving hand.

“My fearless husband,” you praised him and he propped his chin upon your sternum with a cheeky grin.

“Fearless, am I?” His eyes shone like bottomless pools in the light from the lamps and he seemed to ponder his own question. “And yet I have feared for years that accepting you in my life, letting you close will weaken me.”

He slipped out of you with a groan, resting on his side as one of his hands intertwined with yours, index finger tracing the markings on your body.

“But now that you are here my mind is filled with possibilities and I do in fact feel fearless.”

“To do what?” You found yourself asking with less trepidation than you had anticipated.

A wicked smile uncurled itself upon his face, reigniting the fire in your body.

“To seize destiny by its throat and demand our due.”

On the eve of what was to be the sixth month of your union, he seized the ultimate prize with the aid of your House, an alliance forged between two past rivals to bring forth a new world order: your husband presented  you with the heads of the Emperor, his uncle the Baron and the Bene Gesserit mother, people who had orchestrated your union but would not live to interfere with its fruit, you thought with a smile, resting a content hand atop your swollen belly.

everything tags: @harrysthiccthighss @pandaxnienke @galens-mistress @littlelioncub43 @purple-babygirl @alittlegiraffee @floral-recs @thefallenbibliophilequote @rach2602 @filthy-gorgeous

Feyd specific tags: @zaldritzosrose @anjelicawrites @dunefandomhub

[dunefandomhub]

“Why do you even want this?” Paul asked. Which was stupid, considering. He eyed Feyd, swallowing the chemical drip down the back of his throat. Feyd’s grin softened again. “Does it matter?” “No.” “Why do you?” Because I feel possessed. “Because you fucked me right,” he said, and saying it out loud shot straight to his cock. Because I think about you constantly. “And I like the way you look at me.” Because you’re bold, and brutal, and savage, and funny, and sweet, and — “And I want to get you out of my system before I do something I regret.”

[dunefandomhub]

"What terrible things we do to those we love" - Frank Herbert, Dune

prints are available here

[dunefandomhub]

My artworks in 2022 part4

Including doodles

From twitter

[dunefandomhub]

Envy of the moon

Feyd Rautha x f!princess!reader

a/n: Who’d have known being in love with Austin Butler and his chaotic villain character could make for perfect NFAK ghazal vibes? But here we are. So the fic was obviously inspired by Mere Rashq e Qamar, a few ideas I had rolling round the brain cavity and a Dune headcannon by @zaldritzosrose that a Corrino princess always had to be at least partially veiled when appearing before strangers. I loved writing this fic, leaning into the romantic aspects, so I hope anyone who reads it enjoys.

tags: slight enemies to lovers/forbidden love, Feyd is Feyd, Benne Gesserit and their schemes are mentioned, alludes to deaths/murders, banter, dancing, poetic vibes, smut but no details, aftertalk, vulnerability

You had never desired the throne, happy to live a quiet life on the moon your father had discarded you on, away from the chaos of politics and war.

Little did you know that this chaos would show up on your doorstep in the form of a bloodthirsty Harkonnen.

“I’m sure you’ve already heard what became of your family, princess,” Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen sneered as the title left his lips, insult evident in his voice.

“Indeed, I have,” you kept your head about you even as the most feared man in the galaxy stood before you; the man who had killed his cousin and then slaughtered your father and sister, the emperor and his heir, for all to witness on Arrakis, staking his claim on the Imperial throne.

A thinly meshed veil protected you from Feyd’s eyes and he grunted his displeasure.

“Then you know begging will be futile,” he held out his blades as he stalked towards you and for a moment you were distracted by his predatory grace.

“I do not plan on begging, my lord,” you breathed quietly. “Only on asking.”

He halted in his tracks, suspicion coloring his gaze.

“Asking?” he questioned stoically.

“That you leave me here,” you proposed. “As I have always been.”

You walked down a few stairs, hoping the deliberate move to shorten the distance between yourselves would be convincing.

“My little moon is insignificant in the grand geography of the empire. And I have no interest in ruling. You see, my father did everything short of exiling me here after he chose my sister as heir. He had no need for me.”

You had gotten accustomed to your circumstances but the words still left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“And I have no need for his kingdom…or should I say yours, now that you are to be coronated,” you negotiated.

“You have the ruling family’s blood in your veins. I cannot simply let you be,” he snarled, as if offended by your audacity.

“I also have my mother’s blood and she was no more than a Benne Gesserit concubine,” you couldn’t help the way your lips twisted at the words, Feyd’s eyes immediately snagging on your expression.

“You are trained in their ways?” his voice fell a dangerous octave and you felt fear steal across your skin.

“No. I….did not wish to follow in their ways,” you looked away. “My rebellion was one of the reasons I was cast out.”

“So you’re no witch,” you thought you saw his shoulders sag in relief but his voice betrayed nothing. “Good. The last one who had the misfortune of meeting me, stole something from me.”

He stepped closer, the hunter’s prowl returning.

“But no matter. I cut it out of her belly before I slit her throat for good measure.”

Your eyes widened as the truth of his words registered in your mind, horror both at and for him making your stomach churn.

“I-“

You struggled to speak and Feyd pinned you with a smirk, as if waiting for you to speak.

“I’m sorry…” you finally managed and whatever air still remained in the room seemed to disappear.

It was as if only the two of you existed in a vast vacuum, eyes locked in a battle of sizing each other up, worming your way under each other’s skin but neither getting the upper hand.

This man who was meant to be ruthless and monstrous had just admitted to you a great vulnerability.

And you, the lost princess of the Imperium, appeared to be no more a threat to his succession than the Atreides soldiers he had slaughtered so easily in the arena.

Feyd’s decision came to him in a split second, like lightning crashing through his senses.

“I’m afraid, your highness,” he bowed his head mockingly, arms stretched outwards, “I cannot leave you be.”

You tried to hide the tremble of your lips as your hand fisted in your robes, secretly reaching for the dagger your handmaiden had insisted on hiding upon your person.

“And why not?”

Feyd walked slow and silent until he reached your heaving form, chests almost brushing against each other. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to the curve of your ear.

“Because you, my little moon, are coming with me.”

The gasp that left your lips echoed off the walls along with the metallic clang of the dagger that Feyd had just twisted out of your grip.

“There you are.”

You sighed as Feyd found you standing on one of the many balconies of the Harkonnen fort.

“Missing your little rock?” he mocked, sauntering over.

“You mean my home,” you scowled.

“I am your home now, little moon,” he spoke nonchalantly, as if his upheaval of your entire existence was of little consequence.

“Not yet,” you ground out bitterly.

“Soon enough,” he reminded you swiftly and you turned away, staring out at the expanse of black and gray buildings.

After a few moments of silence, he turned to you, staring daggers until you returned your gaze to him.

“Don’t try anything stupid. I may like you enough to let you roam free within my fortress but any attempts at escape won’t go unpunished,” he promised viciously but you merely scoffed.

“Your threats are meaningless. If you were going to kill me you would’ve done it atop my little rock, as you say,” you retorted with as much venom as you could muster.

A slow grin uncurled on his lips.

“There are worse things than death, princess,” he spoke in a low warning, making you shiver. 

But you could not allow him to be in the lead in this dance you seemed to be embroiled in to gain power over the other.

“Oh, I know,” you spoke with derision. “Tolerating you is one of them.”

“Is it?” He was quick to answer. “You see I have no idea because I quite enjoy being myself. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Your emotions got the better of you and you allowed your fury to guide your words.

“You are crass and arrogant and every thing that comes out of your mouth is a threat!”

You breathed heavily after your outburst as he observed you in silence.

“I see,” he finally spoke. “Forgive me, I should have been more considerate of your sensibilities.”

You almost screamed with frustration. 

“Do not mock me-” you began your tirade anew but he held up a hand.

“I mean it, little moon,” he said with more gentleness than you had expected, making you pause. “I forget you haven’t lived among us, you are not used to the violence and treachery that it takes to survive out here.”

You stared at him in silence and he hummed thoughtfully.

“Come, let me show you something.”

Grasping your forearm, he guided you through dark, winded corridors until you arrived onto a stony path leading on to open ground.

After walking a short length of it, you reached an enclosure, the walls semi-transparent and misted. Guards flanking the door bowed and held them open as you passed inside…..and you gasped in shock.

All around you were plants, some bright and bushy, others tall and creeping. A few trees with thick trunks permeated every few feet. The air was mystified, different fragrances clashing for dominance and somehow creating an alluring scent.

A living greenhouse in the heart of Geidi Prime.

“I…..I…didn’t think Geidi Prime had gardens…” you looked around in awe.

Only a few plants ever grew on the moon you had spent an eternity on, and they had required so much tending that you had given up.

“Much of the planet does not,” Feyd agreed. “But this place is one of the most prized possessions of my house.”

You walked between the ferns and flowers, eyes drinking in the sight.

“Those are Rossies,” you pointed excitedly. “And that is a Verite!” You pronounced with awe. Verites were known to be notorious for their use as a truth serum, but only grew on Ecaz soil.

“You see?” Feyd came to stand next to you as you reached out to delicately brush the petals of a moonflower. “Anything can thrive here…if it is looked after well enough.”

His gaze was intense as you looked up at him, the true meaning of his words not escaping you.

“I will look after you, my little moon,” he promised, guiding you to a table laid out a few feet away, lined with food and drink.

She had chosen not to answer him, but she was calmer than before.

He felt intoxicated, whether from her beauty which she insisted on hiding behind a veil or from the wine, he knew not.

It was as if someone had laced his drink with spice and now all he could do was think deliriously of the moonlight reflecting off her half-sheer veil, and the melody of her laugh as the wine loosened her inhibitions.

Thunder cracked and a storm broke out, the servants hurrying to retract the sections of tactile roof which had been left open to allow some of the plants to breathe. 

She laughed louder, her mirth palpable as she stepped into a puddle, twirling with arms outstretched, the rain pelting her body. Her clothes stuck to her, molding to the shape of her curves and she looked like a marble sculpture come to life.

Despite still being veiled from him, Feyd felt that he had never seen another person so clearly. He was used to his uncle’s secret schemes and his people’s selfish lust for power and blood. Never this: someone so unafraid to be themselves in a house of serpents.

So he let her draw him in beside her, her smile evident through the wet cloth now sticking to her damp cheeks and hair. She pranced in the puddles, a dance that Feyd recognised, as did his body, because the next thing he knew he was matching her every step with his own.

That night the moon shone on their dancing forms as if they were two lovers locked in an eternal chase.

Desire pooled like fire beneath his skin, red hot and all consuming.

He had gotten bolder in his advances, his touch often lingering at your hips or your shoulders, arms wrapped around you in a protective halo. Words of lust and love came to him easily, his honeyed tongue pouring them into your ears as you would walk in his garden or dine together.

It was evident from your flushed skin and your downcast gaze that you had never known a man’s touch. And Feyd took advantage of this knowledge.

Light touches that would elicit breathless gasps from you as your breath hitched when his fingers danced along a slip of skin.

Smiting down enemies with swift precision just to watch the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

Words reminding you of your soon-to-be fate as his bride and consort, making you crane your neck, shy as a swan.

He forced himself to wait before tasting your skin; he knew the reward would be sweeter.

The sun of Geidi Prime was an infernal thing. Beautiful in its own way but rendering the planet void of color and making every feature appear harsh and unforgiving much like its natives.

Once upon a time, there had been two moons in orbit. But they had cracked with time and impact. That was why moons had been revered amongst his people for centuries, considered to be symbols of beauty and strength…..

You put even the moons to shame.

Feyd had never been so struck by a living creature before, your simplicity and grace stealing his breath as he finally lifted your veil and unmasked you before the gods to claim you as his own.

The very first moment your eyes met unimpeded, it was as if his world had been set alight, joy unlike anything he had ever known before coursed through his veins like fire through a forest. 

Not even in his beloved arenas had he felt such all-consuming ecstasy.

And when the two of you were finally alone, it was as if your gazes were locked in battle.

No other fight had ever thrilled Feyd the way this did.

No other fight had required his body to be spent like this, his essence emptied entirely into his opponent.

His nails dug little crescents into your skin, your blood welding up but neither of you relented, bodies shifting and bending around each other, screams of pleasure and grunts of pain echoing through your chambers. 

Gone was the modest princess and in her stead a moon shining bright.

Gone was the bold warrior and in his stead a blade, subtle and precise.

On that night, a new religion was born, one where Feyd worshiped only you, and you worshiped only Feyd, your past faiths obliterated.

You had been shy and modest every time he had spoken of your impending union.

Now it thrilled him having heard you fall apart beneath his touch.

“Was that everything you imagined?” he questioned, as you lay wrapped in each other’s secure embrace, fingers tracing mindless patterns.

Despite what the world thought, Feyd Rautha was not well versed in the matters of pleasure. He had very carefully crafted an image of a man who knew both how to break a body and please it but the truth was far from it. 

Yes, he had known a woman’s touch but it had always been meant to take something from him. 

His pets, born of noble Harkonnens, had only desired the power that came with his mark on them and only pleased him sexually if they felt he had kept his end of the bargain. Lady Fenrig of course had violated his autonomy and barely touched him, only enough to take from him what he would never willingly give to her. Then there had been a few women here and there, who had only used their wily bodies to distract him from his rage towards their husbands, useless soldiers he had meant to incapacitate.

But you. You had given yourself to him freely and asked for nothing in return. No throne, no ulterior motive, not even your freedom. He had given parts of himself to you willingly, his respect, his admiration, his body, his protection. And you had matched it all in equal measure.

You wore Harkonnen black as a bride in respect for his customs.

You praised his first win as your husband in the arena with words of love and bravery.

You let him wring out every ounce of your heady essence that he could, until you were but a shivering mess, begging for his mercy.

Your arms cocooned his lithe frame gently once the two of you had sought every pleasure imaginable. To allow him to rest knowing you would watch over him.

This was his chance to explore what pleasure could truly feel like, to chart the edges of carnal desire and learn what made his blood sing.

With you at his side.

“I could not have imagined this if I tried,” you admitted freely.

His face tilted, gaze returning to his shameless study of your face, committing each feature, every inch to memory.

“Should I be worried? It is my understanding that your imagination is vast.”

There were barely any secrets between you now, hours spent talking about history and war and your hopes and dreams and your worries. You had confessed on more than one occasion that it was your imagination that kept you preoccupied during your lonely years in exile. It was one more thing he loved about you.

Your laugh was another, one that graced his senses now.

“And yet you have managed to surprise me, my husband.”

He was pleased to hear the acknowledgement.

“Was it everything you imagined?” you asked this time, brow notching in concern.

Your tenderness felled his defenses better than any weapon had ever done.

“I had imagined far too much what it would be like to finally unveil you and claim you as mine,” he turned so that your faces were aligned, the possessiveness glinting in his eyes and dripping from his voice. “My pride is not wounded to admit that my imagination failed me.”

His grip on your cheeks was both gentle and demanding.

“You, my little moon, shine brighter than any living soul could.”

“The moon only reflects what light the sun grants it.”

You took his face in yours and a soft kiss passed between your lips.

“There were many moments….” you informed him nervously. “I wished for you to see me without the veil, without what I was taught to consider proper between a princess and a stranger. But I clung to it because it was all I had left of my old life.”

Feyd was quick to draw your eyes back.

“I never had a problem seeing you, princess,” he murmured, lips inching closer and he was rewarded with a smile before it morphed into a moan of ecstasy under his masterful touch.

everything tags: @harrysthiccthighss @pandaxnienke @galens-mistress @littlelioncub43 @purple-babygirl  @alittlegiraffe @floral-recs @thefallenbibliophilequote @rach2602 @filthy-gorgeous-library

Feyd specific tags: @zaldritzosrose @anjelicawrites @dunefandomhub

[dunefandomhub]

Fan Frankentober 2024

My fifth moodboard creation for the Fan Frankentober 2024 with @fandomeventcenter. Head over to the page for more spooky content! Enjoy!

What if...Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and Paul Atreides were Supernatural?

Paul Atreides

He wasn't sure if it was his Atreides blood or the mysticism of the Bene Gesserit, but when Paul turned 18 years of ages he began to feel himself change. The waters of Caladan seemed to call to his very soul. As if begging him to enter and feel their power.

And when he gave in, when the waters enveloped him, it was like he was truly home. His mind lost to the waves.

He rarely remembered himself in his Kelpie form - a word he had learned from a Caladan healer. But he would remember the stories that circle of the deep black horse that would disappear into the Caladan seas.

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

Giedi Prime had been a land both feared and awed by the other Houses. The Harkonnens were somehwere between ethereal and demonic. Darkness and magic intertwined.

And Feyd, he was the darkest of them all. Letting his Unseelie roots entwine and take over. Darkening the very depths of his soul.

It wasn't long before the other Harkonnens followed. Letting the shadowed magic of Giedi Prime overtake them and make them succumb to their darker natures.

If the Harkonnen House was not feared before, they were now.

[dunefandomhub]

Voice of the Outer World

[dunefandomhub]

Jake Kontou

[dunefandomhub]

Can't Stay Away (Feyd-Rautha x Princess!Reader)

Summary: Second daughter of the Emperor and you were well used to being ignored in favour of your sister. That was, until you met Feyd-Rautha, nephew to the Harkonnen Baron. A tourney of old, bringing back the traditions of champions and favours brought him to your side - but how close would he stay?

TW: Minors DNI, She/Her pronouns, afab reader, mild mentions of neglect towards reader (ignored in favour of Irulan), Feyd being a flirt, hot and heavy making out, fingering, lashings of sexual tension.

I've taken a couple of liberties with the veils the Bene Gesserit/Irulan seem to wear - making it an honour to see a Sister/Princess' face and given meaning to the paint on Feyd before the arena...because why not it's my story!

(There will be a part 2...maybe 3...I have no self control)

Words: 3508

THANK YOU to @tumblin-theworldaway for not only being patient over this but for listening to my months of related brain rot! I love you!

Being second to the Imperial heir had not always felt like a task. As a child, you did not mind being sent off to other tasks while Irulan was coached in the ways of an Empress. Your father had you both trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit, and as a child it made you feel incredibly important. Being at the Reverend Mother’s side, and at times the only time you were ever praised for something you had achieved.

But the older you got, the more the feeling of being ignored crept in. Men would seek out Irulan's favour, not yours. Visitors would spend hours speaking to the elder princess before speaking to you. Irulan was the interesting one. She was heir, it made sense for her to be the one they wished to gain the favour of.

Second daughter, second best. You understood it, deep down, but that did not stop the hurt it caused.

Despite this, you always accompanied your father and sister on the planetary tours, following along as the Emperor would visit all his people and be lavished with grand feasts and parties as a welcome. Every House from Arrakis to Zanovar were granted a visit from their Emperor, some were happier about it than others.

Despite the tensions on Arrakis, the word of the ‘Messiah’ reaching the Emperor’s ears and being ignored and the rumours that the Emperor had ordered the end of House Atreides, the Imperial Tours continued.

Giedi Prime was the next stop. The home of the Harkonnens. You had heard of the Harkonnens. Fearsome warriors. Terrifying. Bloodthirsty. Brutal. In all honesty, they had fascinated you for the longest time. The manipulations that led to their rise. Their bloodstained history with House Atreides. You had read as much as you had been able to find.

And their welcome? A tournament, a battle of strength and brutality to impress their Emperor. Harking back to days of old when knights would compete in feats of battle prowess to show off. Men from all the Great Houses and more came to compete, including Feyd-Rautha. The Baron's nephew did not hesitate to volunteer to represent his people in something so prestigious.

The Imperial Ship landed and you, your sister and the Emperor were quickly greeted by the Baron and his nephews. You stood to your father’s left, Irulan at his right. Feyd’s eyes stayed on you, though you had not noticed yet. Trailing from the gold and pearl veil over your face, down to the matching white lace and gold dress that both clung and flowed over your body perfectly. He glanced briefly at Irulan, her silver and chainmail contrasting you, but his eyes ultimately returned to you.

"Your Imperial Graces, may I introduce my nephews," the Baron began, gesturing first to his elder nephew and then the younger as he spoke.

"Beast-Rabban and Feyd-Rautha."

Both men bowed, following their uncle's lead. First to the Emperor, then Irulan and then you. The order of importance seemed clear, as usual. But as his head raised, Feyd met your gaze and held it. Cool blue eyes boring into yours and you could not look away.

Your father nodded his head in thanks as did Irulan, but you...

You still stared at Feyd. Something about him, the way he held your gaze. The faint smirk forming on his lips. You could not do anything but stare.

His smile widened, black painted teeth on show as he stepped forward and taking your hand in his, a gesture that shocked even you. His lips found the back of it, pressing a surprisingly gentle but lingering kiss to your skin. No one ever focused on you like this, not when you stood by Irulan. It was something you had gotten quite accustomed to.

But the rough scratch of his fingers around yours, the heat of his lips on your skin, was enough to have you blushing. Then he spoke. His voice low, sending a shiver down your spine.

"A pleasure to meet you, princess."

The Emperor and the Baron led you, Irulan and the Baron’s nephews back inside the Harkonnen fortress. Despite trying not to, your focus always seemed to return to Feyd. The way he moved with confidence, the small glances he gave you with that smirk still on his lips.

Irulan was at your father’s side, as usual. Rabban walked beside the Baron. Which left you and Feyd behind that line. You were not purposely walking at his side, but you soon noticed that Feyd had fallen into step with you. Slowing his pace to match yours.

You kept your gaze forward, but you could feel his eyes on you. Like a predator and you were no more than prey. You knew you would be the one to break the silence before Feyd did.

“Are you looking forward to the tournament, Feyd?” You asked, glancing to the side to see him, as expected, staring at you as he walked.

Feyd hummed low in response before answering. You began to wonder how he was being so mindful of where he was going, whilst keeping his eyes on you.

“A fight is always welcome, princess. Are you excited for it?”

You did not answer immediately. No answer you gave, you felt, was ever interesting enough. Or at least, not in your past experiences. But, to your surprise, Feyd seemed genuinely interested.

“I am intrigued, to say the least. It is not often a House welcomes us with such an event.”

Feyd only nodded, before holding out his hand to stop you moving further forward. It was only then that you noticed you had reached the doors to the Harkonnen fortress. You had been so distracted by the man beside you, you had ignored your surroundings.

“After you, princess,” Feyd offered, holding out an arm to allow you to walk ahead.

You walked on, hearing Feyd’s boots against the floor behind you. Your father, sister and the Baron and his nephew were ahead of you. And your father had not looked back once to check on you, something you were well used to. But Feyd had noticed too.

His head tilted in curiosity but said nothing on the topic. He followed you inside, eyes glancing occasionally between you and your father, noticing the seemingly longing look you held. As the Baron led the Emperor and Irulan into the dining hall, you seemed to hang back, like you were waiting for permission to follow them.

When that did not come, you folded your hands before you and turned from the door.

“Are you not joining them?” Feyd asked, genuinely surprised at the situation.

Your head hung low, and you simply shook it.

“Not if I am not invited. Irulan is heir, not I,” You said simply and began walking away without a second glance.

You assumed Feyd would join his uncle and brother. But the sound of footsteps behind you told you otherwise. You did not look back as you walked, though in truth, you had no idea where you were walking to. You simply wished to be away. Feyd followed silently, only interfering when he felt the need to steer you somewhere specific.

“Princess, follow me, I have somewhere more comfortable you could wait over walking the halls?”

Feyd was not sure why, but he felt the need to be at your side. A strange draw that seemed to tug at his gut and keep him at your side. He was a man of pleasure, or so most people said. He held little care for the feelings of others.

Yet with you, he wanted to know. No, he needed to know. To know what bothered you. To know why your eyes dipped to the floor after looking at your father and sister. Why you seemed surprised from the moment he paid you attention upon your arrival. He was curious as to why you seemed to try to hide your presence at any given moment.

But he said nothing. He would not even know where to begin if he wanted to. Instead, he walked in silence, leading you to a wide balcony that looked out on to the expanse of Giedi Prime.

You took your seat and the two of you sat in a comfortable silence until you were called by one of your father’s attendants.

You listened politely as you walked beside your sister, Irulan’s arm linked with yours this time as you followed your father and the Baron towards the arena. Irulan talked on about how the tournament would work, that you, her and some other noble ladies from the Houses would choose their own champion to fight the tournament in their name.

It reminded you of the tourneys of old. Where knights fought for princesses and ladies to win favour. You had read so many stories, fairytales of times that were now a faraway memory. The idea fascinated you as much as the Harkonnens did. You were about to ask Irulan more, when your father turned to speak. To both of you, for once.

“My daughters, you will allow the ladies from the Great Houses to choose their champions, then you will choose.”

That confused you both, but you had little choice but to agree. He was the Emperor first, your father second.

You watched warriors from each Great House and some minor Houses line up before you, Irulan and the other gathered ladies with interest. And you could not hide your smile when Feyd stepped forward and joined them.

One by one, champions were picked. Irulan chose first out of the two of you, not surprisingly choosing a Corrino soldier as her champion. There were more warriors than ladies to choose, and Feyd remained in those waiting. That surprised you. He was known for his fighting ability, so you did not understand why he had not been chosen. Which only solidified your own choice.

“Princess, your choice of champion please?” the Harkonnen announcer asked, gesturing to the men before you.

Purely for the suspense, you paused before answering. Mere seconds, allowing you to enjoy the small amount of attention focused solely on you.

“I choose Feyd-Rautha.”

Everyone looked shocked, including your father and sister. Everyone, but Feyd. His smirk wide as he stepped forward, taking your hand as he had when you arrived. Eyes locked to yours as he pressed his lips to your knuckles.

“I shall win well for you, my princess.”

You were not sure if it was traditional, but Feyd had asked you to see him before the tournament. A guard led you silently to a round chamber, with only a black stone table in the centre, holding weapons of different kinds. You stood out so starkly against the black stone, the faint lights making the pearls on your veil shimmer ever so slightly.

Feyd was stood in the centre, and you could feel the heat in your cheeks you realised he wore only an intricately wrapped loin cloth.

“Princess, I appreciate you agreeing to come,” Feyd called as he strode to your side.

He smirked as he watched you avert your gaze from his bare chest. In his hand, he held a bowl of what looked like black paint. It was only when he tapped the stone bowl did your eyes find it. You looked back at him curiously.

“You are my champion, it would be rude not to,” you said softly, your eyes still looking at the bowl.

It was only then that you noticed there was no one else in the room. Something that seemed extremely unusual.

“Do you normally prepare for a fight alone?” you asked, eyes flitting around the room and back to him, now trained solely on his face.

Feyd chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that you found yourself wanting to hear again.

“No, usually I am surrounded by servants and guards. But I thought I would try something different today. It’s a special day after all.”

He held the bowl up, tipping it slightly to move the paint. Your eyes watched it with interest, it slowly dawning on you what it was for. You had read up on the Harkonnens and Giedi Prime before you arrived, there was more lore to research than you had anticipated. One thing, now, came to your mind.

“Am I to paint you, Feyd?”

That earned you another chuckle. Though Feyd was actually quite surprised you knew of any Harkonnen traditions.

“I thought it would be interesting, to prepare your champion for battle, hmm?” he asked, holding the bowl out to you, careful however not to get the ink black liquid on your white dress.

You nodded, confusing him when you turned away from him. But what you did next, was not what he expected. Slowly, you lifted the veil that had covered your face since your arrival. Finally revealing your full appearance to him.

And you were beautiful.

“Then I suppose it is only fair I let you look at me while I do so.”

What Feyd did not realise, was the importance of what seemed like a small gesture. Almost all those trained by the Bene Gesserit veiled themselves in some way. The Princesses most of all. But Feyd knew even now, he was being honoured by you.

“Thank you, princess.” Was all he could manage, any words he said would never be quite enough, he felt.

You returned to his side, only now looking down at the full form of him. Thick muscle covered him from shoulder and down. A body sculpted for war, it seemed. And it was now a body that would fight in your name.

Feyd held out the bowl, watching with curious eyes as you took it and moved to stand at his back. He opened his mouth to instruct you but was stopped by the cold sensation of paint on his skin. You felt him stiffen a little and continued to paint as you explained.

“I have done my research before coming here. My father always tells me it is best to know our hosts,” you said simply, as if that should be enough to explain why you so easily began painting him.

He said nothing as you finished his back, the feeling of the paint drying telling him where you had painted each square and line. It fascinated him that you had so quickly learned the symbols necessary.

But when you moved to his front, he felt a wave of anticipation run through him. Tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he waited for you to begin. He could feel the warmth of your hands more intensely now he could see you.

You started on his chest, painting the four thick lines on his pectorals first. He watched the concentration on your face, the way your teeth gently nibbled your lower lip as your made sure every stroke was perfect.

You could feel his eyes on you, but you did not dare look up. The whole situation was intimate enough, without meeting his gaze. Feyd heard the soft breath you took to prepare yourself as you moved lower, pausing only briefly before you began to paint his stomach.

“Do you really believe these help you?” you suddenly asked, as though distracting yourself from the path your fingers took over the ridges of hid abdominals.

Feyd’s jaw clenched at the gentleness of your touch, the feeling sending goosebumps over his pale skin. He did his best to concentrate on answering your question about the symbols.

“It is the belief in them that makes them important, so yes, I do.”

You hummed in response, and Feyd’s breath caught in his throat when you began to kneel as your painted nearer his hips.

The tension in the air was thick. No sounds in the room except the scrape of your fingers against the bowl and the soft puffs of your combined breathing. Feyd tried his best to concentrate solely on the paint being smeared on his skin, but having you so close had desire settling in his belly.

Soon, you were done.

“There, I hope I have done a good enough job…” Feyd smiled at the mix of hope and pride in your eyes. But when you moved to take your hand away from his skin, he grabbed it quickly. His body acting on instinct and the words leaving him before his brain could control them.

“Would I be too forward in asking for a kiss, princess. For luck?”

You were struck silent by the question, but an aching part of you began urging you to allow him one kiss. No harm could come from it, right?

Tentatively, you stepped forward after setting bowl down on a table nearby. You pressed your lips softly to his cheek, letting them linger for mere seconds. But that was not what Feyd wanted.

You had barely stepped back before his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. He revelled in the small squeak of surprise that left you and he appreciated the fact you were not trying to push him away.

Your face was mere inches from his as his hand moved to cup your cheek, tilting your head up to his as he pressed him plump lips to yours. The feeling was electric the moment your lips met, your own hand gripping the back of his neck. Not caring for the paint that was now smeared down the skin there.

You pressed yourself harder against him, letting your body mould to his as he deepened the kiss. Tongue swiping against the flesh of your lip, asking for entry which you happily granted. The moment his tongue found yours, Feyd was like a man possessed. Gripping your face tighter as your tongue soon surrendered to his, tangling together in a clash of teeth.

The paint on his body, barely dried, smeared against your dress but you could not have cared less. Your only thoughts were Feyd. The feel of his arm on your waist and hand on your face. The taste of him, combined with the black paint on his teeth. You were entirely intoxicated by him.

You were not sure when he had backed you towards the table, but you did not stop him when he lifted you quickly on to it. There was something so delicious about the danger of the whole situation. While realistically, you barely knew him, you could feel your body surrendering to every kiss and touch. The very fibres of you desperate to feel more of him already.

Feyd groaned into your mouth when you made space for him to slip between your legs, your dress parting either side to accommodate the movement. His hands took purchase your thighs while yours found his shoulders. Your paint-stained fingers leaving fingerprints all over his alabaster skin.

The room felt like it had heated as his lips began to trail down your jaw and to your neck, following a path until he reached the swell of your breasts, just visible with the cut of your dress. His hands kneading the flesh of your thighs, the combination forcing breathy moans to slip from your lips.

Feyd revelled in every one of them. The dig of nails into his shoulder when he nipped at your collarbone, the soft moan when his hands found the apex of your thighs and squeezed.

“I will win for you, my princess…” he mumbled, his face buried in your neck as his fingers continued their path to your core.

And you were powerless to stop him, your body listening now solely to your base instincts. The first brush of his fingers over your underwear had your head falling back.

“Win for me, and I will reward you…” you sighed out, as his fingers slipped deftly beneath the fabric.

Feyd could barely concentrate on your promise, slipping his fingers further and further between your folds until he was buried to the knuckles. The smallest curl of the digits had you moaning his name.

“Reward me how?” he asked, already feeling your soft walls clenching around him as your release crept forward.

He could barely help himself, thrusting and curling his fingers over and over. Feeling the soft gush of your slick coating his fingers and palm with each movement.

You could hardly form words, Feyd’s fingers somehow speeding up again. You could only moan as you release surprised you, tugging Feyd by neck to kiss him as you spilled around his fingers.

He slowed his movements as you relaxed, not pulling them out until he could feel your muscles stop spasming. Your jaw went slack as you saw him reach for the bowl of paint, mixing your juices with the black liquid and painting over the now smudged symbols you had adorned him with. The smug grin on his face making your skin tingle.

You slowly came back to yourself, eyes meeting his as you finally answered.

“Win for me, and you can have any part of me you wish.”

Dune Taglist (requested and people I know who like Dune):

@blissfulphilospher @tumblin-theworldaway

@lady-phasma @anjelicawrites @aemondsbabe @alexagirlie

(if you want to be tagged in or removed from future posts, let me know!)

[dunefandomhub]

Ours to Love (Feyd x Bene Gesserit!Reader x Paul)

Summary: The Bene Gesserit were a force that few Houses would trifle with. Rumours of witchcraft had circled them for as long as anyone could remember. Their webs of manipulation wrapping around even the post powerful of rulers. You were the definition of that, proving there was little a Sister could not achieve. So what would happen when you were sent to seduce not one, but two Heirs to powerful Houses?

CW: MINORS DNI, afab reader, she/her pronouns, mentions of manipulation, Paul being a little submissive, Feyd being more forceful, comparisons of Bene Gesserit to witches (descriptions of their powers as bewitching etc), profanity, innuendo, slight rough sex, p in v sex, kind of a threesome but not, mentions of BG breeding programme.

Words: 5541

Happy Spooky Season! This is my third fic submission to our Fan Frankentober Event (masterlist will be found here) in collab with a few lovely moots! Head over to @fandomeventcenter for more info!

The Bene Gesserit were a group few understood. Dancing the line between mortal and something more. Their abilities made them both dangerous and curious in equal measure. Houses would, willingly or unwillingly, bend to the will of the Sisters. Most old and great Houses knew better than to deny a Sister.

Some accused them of being witches. Bewitching the minds of anyone they chose. Controlling the world as though they were master puppeteers.

Even Houses like the Harkonnens and the Atreides weren’t free from Bene Gesserit influence.

But the depth of that influence would soon show its true nature.

You were a marvel really. The gem in the Reverend Mother’s collection. Excelling in every way, ‘a natural talent’, the Reverend Mother had said. Showing your proficiency in all manner of ways to manipulate and coerce someone to your way of thinking.

Some might call it magic, so many Houses calling you and your Sisters witches. But you were simply in control of your minds, honing your craft to bend others to your cause.

So, it was no surprise to you when Mother Helen requested your presence in her study after the whisperings of a potential path to the fulfilment of the Bene Gesserit’s long standing breeding programme.

“Reverend Mother,” you said softly, inclining your head before seating yourself before Mother Helen.

You waited patiently. Though you could sense why you’d been summoned, you didn’t want to overstep yourself.

“I presume you know why I have asked you here?” Mother Helen said sternly, the light from the window behind her illuminating her just enough to see the faint smile on her lips.

“Yes, Reverend Mother.”

Your hands fidgeted with the embroidery on your dress. You weren’t sure if it was nerves or excitement, but either way your stomach was in knots.

Luckily, Mother Helen wasted little time in explaining the situation.

“We have two prospects, my dear. Paul Atreides, the Duke’s son. And Feyd-Rautha, of House Harkonnen.”

Your heart seemed to speed up. Two prospects?

“Two? That is unusual, isn’t it?” you asked, keeping your tone as calm and respectful as possible.

The Reverend Mother’s smile tightened before she spoke.

“Not necessarily. It is safer to have several avenues to follow than relying on one.”

She wasn’t chastising you, but her tone left no room for argument. But her words made sense. Why would an organisation as powerful as the Bene Gesserit rest all of their hopes on one person?

You simply nodded. You had a feeling more instructions would come when you needed them.

“And you have been trusted to follow both of these paths, to see which ends in success.”

You couldn’t stop your expression changing. Surprise colouring your face. Both. You were to pursue both men in the hopes of fulfilling plans that had been laid for centuries?

“Reverend Mother, I…”

But the hand Mother Helen raised stopped you immediately.

“No questions. You have been honoured with this, my dear. Both Houses are to be in Arrakis for an Imperial court in the next week, Feyd and Paul will be attending.”

Mother Helen leaned in, almost inspecting you.

“As will you. You are tasked with testing both heirs, everything has been prepared for your departure.”

Her words were final. You were travelling to Arrakis whether you liked it or not. There was little use in arguing, many of your Sisters could only dream of being given such a prestigious task.

The weight of the breeding programme now lay on your shoulders.

The meeting on Arrakis was something neither Paul nor Feyd wished to attend, if they were asked to speak honestly on the subject.

They had been named heirs to their Houses and it was expected for them to be there. To hear about the Imperial plans, to what would be expected of them as and when they took control of their respective Houses.

But honestly? Sat on either side of the long table, surrounded by Lord, Barons, Dukes – all of whom they’d long forgotten the names of – they would rather be anywhere else.

So, when the meeting took a break and they were finally granted a reprieve, they all but marched out of the room. Paul made immediately for a balcony, inhaling the warm but fresh air of Arrakis to clear his mind. Feyd simply walked, wandering the winding halls to distract himself.

Little did they know, they were being watched. The Bene Gesserit, aside from the Reverend Mother herself, rarely attended meetings like this so you had simply been sat in a shaded courtyard, waiting.

The wives and daughters of the political leaders were also seated around you, but you paid them little mind. You had a job to do. Your lace veil remained draped over your face; the matching gown you had chosen thankfully light enough to fend off the desert heat.

The other ladies openly avoided you, from fear or hatred, you didn’t know. You liked it, if you were honest. The fact that your mere presence could instil such drastic feelings into strangers.

The doors to the main hall opening and closing drew your attention, though it was now a choice of who to find first. The meetings were to last a week at the least, so you had time enough. But two potential prospects was going to be a challenge even for a seasoned Sister such as yourself.

But the Reverend Mother had asked you for a reason. You knew it without her even saying it.

So many believed the Bene Gesserit to be witches, using long forgotten magic to bewitch and beguile their intended targets. You only added to that belief. There was simply something about you. A magnetism, as the Reverend Mother called it. An aura that drew people, especially men, into your web and entangled them before they even knew what you were doing.

Which is exactly what you needed to do with the Atreides and Harkonnen heirs.

Ensnare. Entangle. Entrance.

Paul was too lost to his thoughts to notice someone joining him on the balcony. His eyes trained solely on the seemingly infinite expanse of desert that was Arrakis. Only a soft voice alerted him to his guest.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

He turned his head sharply; eyes widened a little in surprise. He hadn’t even heard you enter, never mind stand at his side. He took a moment to take you in. The veil, the black lace that seemed to melt into your gown below, though you had revealed your face now. Paul knew enough about the Bene Gesserit to read the clues.

But beyond that, he couldn’t ignore how beautiful you were. Already, he could feel a pull he couldn’t ignore.

But you spoke again before he could respond.

“I apologise for startling you, young Master.”

Paul simply frowned and nodded. You knew him then, enough to know his title as the Duke’s son.

“No apology needed.” He said quietly turning back to the view in front of him.

You took that time, as he had, to study him. The sharp lines of his profile, the messy, warm brown curls that framed his face. Already, you wagered, you had struck lucky on the first path you were meant to follow.

Paul could feel you watching him, like a specimen being studied. Something tingled in the back of his mind, putting him on edge. He could only guess that it was you. It was like you were searching for something within his mind.

And everything he knew of the Bene Gesserit, from his mother had him immediately paranoid. But you were persistent, letting your presence linger in his mind before retreating.

“Is there something you needed?” he asked, flitting his eyes toward you.

You smiled. You knew his mother was one of your own, so you were prepared for a little resistance from him. It was half the reason you had come to Paul first. But you also knew he was no different to any other man.

You just might need to push a little harder to get him to break.

“Am I bothering you? I can go if you wish…” you played up the hurt in your tone, having sensed it would chip away at his defences.

You even turned to leave, and immediately felt his hand on your arm.

“No, that’s not what I meant…”

His touch was gentle, but enough to stop you moving further. You turned back, placing your hand over his. You could have sworn you even saw a small smile tug at his lips.

You had him…almost.

“I know how tedious these events can be, maybe you simply need some company?”

You stood a little closer, his hand having let you go, but your arm now brushing against his. Paul huffed out a laugh. Maybe your company wouldn’t be so bad. You were beautiful, a welcome distraction from long, political meetings.

And a little peek into Paul’s mind told you just the same.

Your claws were already sinking in.

Soon, Paul was drawn back into a meeting with his father. You could see the hesitation in eyes as he left, but your hand on his arm seemed to soften him.

“I’ll be here all week, to distract you whenever you choose,”

The hint of flirtation in your voice had a soft blush creeping on to his cheeks. He simply nodded, turning quickly and hurrying to meet his father.

Your focus now turned to Feyd. The Harkonnens were, by your research, wary of the Bene Gesserit compared to most Houses. So, you knew your plans would need to change.

A few well-placed questions told you that Feyd was down in the palace’s armoury, which was no surprise. Feyd’s reputation travelled a little further than Paul’s. The Harkonnen heir was well known for his ferocity and his combat prowess. But you knew from experience, that there would be far more beneath the surface.

You just needed to find it.

Feyd’s head snapped around the moment you entered. Barely crossing the threshold before he spoke.

“Whoever you are, I don’t want to be disturbed.”

You held back your smile. Impressive, you thought. Though you were more than prepared for more of a challenge with Feyd. Where you could sense a timidness, a weakness almost in Paul, there was little of that in Feyd. You were going to need a different tactic with him.

But his tone didn’t deter you. His body turned completely to you as you continued to approach him.

“Then I won’t disturb you. The room is large enough for us both.”

You could see Feyd’s jaw twitch, simply at the fact someone didn’t immediately bend to his will. With slow movements, you walked straight past him and made a point of looking over the different weapon displays. But you could feel his eyes on you.

You could tell Feyd was a man of action, one who let his reputation speak for him. Of letting fear be his weapon.

So, you made a point of ignoring him. But you could hear the steady thump of his footsteps as he approached. Despite his proximity, you continued to ignore him.

He was mere inches from your back when you spoke again.

“I thought you didn’t want to be disturbed, Na-Baron?”

You could almost feel the frustration coming off him in waves. He was a man who wasn’t used to being told ‘No’.

But just like Paul, you knew you had him intrigued. And you had a feeling Feyd would be more inclined to make how he felt known.

“You are truly something,” he mumbled, his voice a low rumble, almost quiet enough for you to miss it.

He was almost pressed against you now, the solid plane of his chest with barely inches between you. His arm reaching round, trailing over one of the knives on the wall.

“The armoury is not where I would expect to see a Bene Gesserit…” he whispered, leaning even further in.

Your head turned ever so slightly, leaning back to close the distance between your bodies.

“I like to do the unexpected.”

You were sure you heard him chuckle. His cheek almost pressed to yours now. His skin was cool against yours and you relished the feeling. Maybe breaking Feyd wouldn’t be as difficult as you thought.

You were almost caged between him and the display. Both arms now reaching around and leaning his weight against your back.

“I am sure there are a lot of things you like to do, hmm?”

You knew he was trying to intimidate you, believing he was the cat, and you were the little mouse.

But how wrong he would be.

Neither Feyd nor Paul listened to anyone who warned them against you.

Paul’s mother was the first to berate him on his fascination with you, even after only a few meetings. Warning him of what a Sister like you was capable of. That could have already clouded his mind and there would be nothing he could do.

But he refused to listen. You had done nothing to harm him. You had been nothing but kind. He had no reason, in his mind, to not trust you.

In Feyd’s case, it had been his uncle. The Harkonnen Baron had immediately questioned Feyd on his interactions with you, recognising immediately why the Bene Gesserit would show interest in his nephew.

But much like Paul, he refused to listen. In his opinion, he wasn’t weak enough to succumb to such manipulations. The myths he had heard of the Bene Gesserit were just that, myths that would scare weaker minds.

Little did they know, that was exactly what you wanted them to believe. The first step in having them entirely trapped.

Your first meetings with both men felt successful. Knowing you were now firmly in their minds only bolstered your confidence in completing your task. You could see it in how they looked at you.

Feyd was clearer, desire burning dark in his gaze. Paul, however, was more subtle, though his eyes rarely ever left you.

Throughout the week, you met with both of them whenever you could. Separately of course. It wasn’t quite the time to cross that line yet. Though the time may come.

You had seen them interact during the more social side of the political meetings. Finding common ground, it seemed, only through being heirs to prominent Houses.

You had seen the suspicious stares from their family members, wagering that both men had been warned against you. But that only told you that your plans had worked. You were in their minds; you had captured their hearts.

Exactly as you intended.

Tonight was a grand affair. The middle of the week and break from politics and strategy meetings. Everyone attended, including you.

The hall was decked out with tables laden with food, a stage that housed a band and a large space in the centre that could only be for dancing. A surefire way to get nobles socialising was a ball.

The Reverend Mother had told you to focus on this night especially. When most everyone would be more relaxed, including Feyd and Paul. 

Part of you wondered if either of them had noticed your attention being split between them both. Whether Paul’s knowledge of the Bene Gesserit had in any way clued him into what you had planned.

Either way, it mattered little. From the moment you arrived in the hall, you could feel their eyes on you.

Your interactions with both men had been intimate in their own ways.

Paul was gentle, timid almost when it came to you, and you had taken your time with him before he had got comfortable enough in your presence. But when he was comfortable, he was like putty in your hands.

Feyd on the other hand was a man who knew what he wanted and was willing to take it. And take it he did. He was experienced, there was no doubt in that. And his desires for you were not something he concerned himself with hiding.

So, it was no surprise when Feyd was the first to approach you.

His hands reached instantly for your arms, stroking up and down the bare skin and tugging you gently back towards his chest.

“I have been waiting for you to appear, my little mouse.”

You smiled at the name. It was more of a tease than a condescension. He knew as well as you did, you were his equal in many ways.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long, Na-Baron?”

Feyd leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he chuckled.

“I would wait forever for a moment of your time, you know that.”

It was a simple flirtation, but you bit back a smile at the implication. You had your teeth in deep and Feyd had no means of escape. But despite yourself, you leaned back into him.

“That’s quite a promise, am I truly so memorable?”

Feyd’s hands had travelled from your arms to your waist, fingers digging into your body just a little. There was almost a possessiveness to how he touched you, both in bed and out in public. You couldn’t stop the shiver that ran down your spine at the coolness of his skin through your dress.

“Memorable is one word to describe you. Tempting is a far better word, I wager.”

His voice was so low, a dark rumble in your ear. Inviting you to give into him this time, to satisfy the mutual desire between you both.

You entwined your hand with his, twisting in his arms.

“Tempting enough to follow?”

You didn’t wait for an answer, you simply walked. Feyd following at your heels like a loyal pup. A sure sign, even if he didn’t know it, of the hold you had on him.

What you didn’t see, however, was Paul’s eyes on you the entire time. Or that he walked out seconds behind you and Feyd.

You hurried down the halls, Feyd easily keeping pace. You slipped into one of the many guest lounges, neither of you concerned with closing the door behind you. As far as you were concerned, no one would disturb you.

Now you were alone, Feyd was on you within seconds. Lips crushed to yours with a ferocity you welcomed. Hands gripping anywhere they could, all but tearing the clothes from your body.

If you had to describe how Feyd loved, it was like being pursued by an animal. His emotions laid bare when he was alone with you, burning through him and dragging you along with him.

But you could take it. You relished it. He was fully entangled in his need for you that he didn’t notice how much control you truly had. How you had wormed your way into his mind and bewitched his very soul.

Your back hit the wall, his lips travelling down as he tugged the sleeves of your dress down your arms. Exposing your skin to his hungry touch. Your own hands gripping at the fabric of his tunic.

This was how it had gone every time you and Feyd were alone. You were a temptation he couldn’t resist, which is exactly what you intended.

His hand travelled lower, tugging your leg high and around his hips, pushing his body tighter against you.

This was how far you usually got. Entwined with each other without fully submitting to desire. But you knew you needed to move things along, to truly test what kind of man Feyd was.

Deft hands pushed his tunic from his shoulders, followed by the thin fabric of his shirt. It wasn’t the first time you had seen Feyd in a state of undress, but it was a sight every time.

His face was buried in your neck as he rolled his hips against you. Your other leg quickly pulled to circle his waist, his rhythm only increasing as your nails dug into his shoulder.

“Tell me I can have you this time?” he mumbled, nipping at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

He was almost pleading as he spoke, the smallest sliver of vulnerability in his words. Hips rutting harder into your waiting body. There was a desperation to him, a deep seated need that made you sure you had a strong hold on him.

You paused for what seemed like an eternity to Feyd, earning you an impatient growl.

“Yes, you can have me…you’ve been so good waiting.”

The praise sent a shot of desire straight to his cock, his arms wrapping tight around your waist as he carried you over to a nearby table. A bed would have been preferred, you thought, but you weren’t about to stop him now.

You laid yourself back immediately, tugging your dress high over your thighs as Feyd caged you beneath his body. His lips quickly finding the soft swell of your chest, nipping and licking your skin through the fabric.

Your moans were soft, but they were like music to his ears. His hands gripped your thighs, tugging your closer to his body. Grinding himself against you until you sighed out his name.

In control or not, you were enjoying this as much as he was.

Feyd quickly had his belt and trousers opened, freeing himself without hesitation. Right now, he didn’t have the patience for foreplay. He wanted you, and he wanted you now. But strong hands on your waist had you on your front, your ass bare and on display.

You moaned in unison as he pushed inside, stretching your walls in the most delicious of ways. The stone of the table was cool against your stomach as Feyd set a steady but punishing rhythm.

Neither of you heard the door push open wider. Feyd’s face pressed into your skin, biting at the flesh as he slammed himself into you.

All Paul could see was the slam of Feyd’s hips against yours. All he could hear was the sound of you moaning Feyd’s name over and over again. It was like a knife to his heart. Was he so uninteresting to you? Had he been too soft, too gentle for you to even consider his affection?

He stood motionless as your moans seemed to get higher and higher. He felt his own cock twitch in his trousers at the very sight, torn between desire and jealousy.

The table seemed to slam against the ground with the force of Feyd’s hips, your moans reaching a crescendo as you all but screamed his name in pleasure. Feyd’s moans devolved to growls as he thrust into you a final time, painting your insides with his thick seed.

Only then, did you realise Paul was in the room. You recognised his mind immediately. Feyd turned at the feeling of someone else in the room.

The Harkonnen’s eyes darkened at the sight of the Paul.

“Enjoying the view?” Feyd snapped, making no moves cover himself as he turned, slowly tucking himself back into his trousers.

You turned and sat up, wrapping your arms around Feyd’s waist and tugging him backwards between your legs. His back pressed to your chest.

“Don’t be cruel, Feyd. Why don’t you come closer, Paul?”

Feyd snapped his head to you, but the look in your eyes told him not to argue. Your hold was strong, the fog in his mind returning and dragging him over to your will. His jaw tensed and he growled low in his throat.

It was like Paul’s mind wasn’t his own as he began to walk closer. Closing the distance between you with quick steps. Before he knew it, he was at your side.

Your hand stretched out to him, drawing him even further in. Your hand carded through his hair as the other rested on Feyd’s back. You could see the desire behind Paul’s eyes, and it was as though fate had delivered you both men on a silver platter.

“You could join us, if you wanted?” you asked, stroking Feyd’s back as though calming a wild animal.

Paul visibly swallowed. Were you really asking what he thought you were? The bite of fear at the way Feyd glared dissipated as you tugged a little at his curls.

He nodded, not trusting his own words. Feyd moved to stand on your opposite side, but you could still see how his body tensed at the mere idea of Paul touching you. And it gave you an idea. You let your presence linger in Feyd’s mind and gave him an instruction.

…Show him. He’s nervous, and I know you want to show him who I belong to…

Your words echoed in his mind, and you knew he’d heard as he smirked.

“Let me show you how it’s done, Atreides. Up close this time.”

You knew that would get him. If there was one thing you had learned to play on with Feyd, it was his possessiveness. To know that he had control of you.

With Paul, he needed to know he was enough for you, to hear how much you wanted him.

Before Feyd could take you again, you made quick work of Paul’s jacket. Throwing the dark material behind him and tugging him down for a kiss. You poured every ounce of desire into that one kiss, feeling Feyd slip back between your legs in the process.

His hands were on your thighs, pushing your dress even further up your body. Revealing more and more of your skin to both of your lovers. His lips found your stomach, hot kisses making your moan into Paul’s mouth as Feyd travelled lower and lower.

Your own hand slipped down to Paul’s waistband, deftly undoing the fastenings of his trousers and slipping your hand inside. Your kiss swallowed Paul’s moans as your wrapped your hand around his length, starting a slow, almost torturous rhythm until he was pulsing in your palm.

Your other hand rested on Feyd’s head, holding him close as he finally found your core. There was something so filthy about how his tongue began to clean his own seed from your skin, but that was another thing you had learned about Feyd.

There were few things he wouldn’t do.

The pace of your hand around Paul’s cock increased as Feyd buried himself entirely between your folds. Your thighs tight around his head as he devoured you.

Paul’s hand rested against the table beside you, steadying himself as he felt his release licking at the base of his spine. But when you grabbed his free hand, bringing it up to massage at your breast, he moaned deep into your mouth.

His touch was needy, relishing at the feeling of your soft flesh beneath his own. He quickly tugged the neckline of your dress lower, freeing both of your breasts from their confines. But what surprised you most, was when his lips left yours and began to suckle at your flesh.

Your moans were a tangle of their names, your heels digging into Feyd’s back as your second orgasm spilled onto his tongue. The salty mix your juices and his seed had Feyd’s eyes fluttering closed.

“Let…let Paul have a turn, Feyd…” you gasped, pushing Feyd back gently.

Feyd huffed, wiping his chin on the back of his hand but he did as he was bid. But you could see the way Feyd’s eyes trailed over Paul’s body, all the way down to where your hand remained wrapped around his cock.

He stepped back, giving Paul just enough space to slip between your thighs.

Paul’s hands were more tentative as they trailed up your thighs and over your hips. Where Feyd was rough and animalistic, Paul was soft and gentle. Almost timid in how he touched you. You had seen it in both their minds. Feyd had almost lost count now with how many conquests he’d had. Paul on the other hand had lost his virginity and little more.

Your legs spread wider, your hand slipping down and resuming your rhythm over Paul’s cock. Feyd watched intently, your free hand rubbing mindless circles over his stomach.

Paul was slow as he entered you. Your slick walls welcoming him with ease, his cock stretching you almost as much as Feyd’s.

You knew this likely wasn’t what the Reverend Mother intended. You were supposed to test them both and choose who to take to the programme. But they were both too much temptation for you to ignore.

“You feel so good, Paul…” you sighed out as he finally bottomed out.

You could feel him preen at the praise, your other hand trailing up his torso and pulling him down for a kiss. The change in angle had Paul groaning into your mouth, your legs wrapping around his hips and urging him to start moving.

His rhythm was slower than Feyd’s but no less satisfying, dragging his length in and out of you slowly. Letting you feel every ridge and vein of his cock.

Your nails dug into Feyd’s skin, letting him know from experience that you needed more from Paul.

“She likes it harder, Atreides.” Feyd growled, making Paul stutter in his movements.

Paul glanced at you, and you nodded, telling him that you believed he could do it. That was the push he needed.

Slowly but surely, he sped up. Spurred on by the increased volume of your moans. Feyd smirked, and he couldn’t help but tease Paul just that little more.

“Come on, she won’t break. Fuck her like you mean it.”

Feyd’s taunts made Paul’s jaw tighten, his hands gripping your waist just a little more. What if that’s what made you choose Feyd? Maybe that’s what made you prefer Feyd over him? Even if that wasn’t true, it spurred Paul on.

His face buried itself into your neck, hips now slamming into yours. He wasn’t as rough as Feyd, but the force was much the same. Jealousy was what pushed Paul harder and deeper into your core.

Feyd’s lips found the other side of your neck, biting and licking at your skin just the way you liked it. He wasn’t about to let Paul have you all to himself.

It wasn’t long before Paul’s rhythm began to falter, signalling his release.

“Make her come first, Atreides. I promise the feeling of her squeezing your cock as you come will be worth it.”

Paul huffed into your neck, pulling back to look at Feyd. The taunts were getting to him, but you could also tell they were only making him work harder. And his hesitation had Feyd mocking him again.

“Use your fingers…” Feyd growled, his own hand sliding down your stomach and circling just over your pearl.

“Just here.”

Paul shoved Feyd’s hand away in frustration. He was going to prove to both of you that he was just as good as Feyd was. His fingers were soft on your skin, putting just enough pressure on your bud to have you arching your back in pleasure.

“That’s it, keep going until she can’t take anymore.”

Paul tried his best to keep his rhythm going as he touched you. But luckily, your third peak came quick enough. Your walls squeezing his cock so tight he could barely push inside. You keened his name as you came, Paul following not long after. His seed now mixing with Feyd’s inside you.

He pulled out slowly, and you sat up. Your hands found both of their necks, pulling them in for a kiss one after the other.

You wondered if they knew what your plans had been, but at the same time you didn’t care. You were satisfied, and by the looks in their eyes, so were they.

The political tour soon came to its end. The Reverend Mother had called you to her side after hearing the rumours that you had taken both heirs to bed.

“You are telling me that you’ve had them both?” Mother Helen asked, a mix of surprise and disappointment in her eyes.

But you had already prepared your reasonings.

“I have. I have seen both their minds, tested their resolves and both of them are more than adequate to sire a new generation.” You said simply.

Mother Helen looked at you for a moment and you did your best to hide whatever emotions you had when it came to Feyd and Paul.

In reality, you had found yourself desiring them both. In the days that followed, encounters between the three of you had only increased. Together or separately, it didn’t matter.

All you had to do now, was convince the Reverend Mother.

Feyd and Paul were sat in their final meeting, their relationship remaining cordial but closer than it was. Both of them wanted you, and neither wanted to let the other have you.

So, without your knowledge, they had come to an agreement.

Paul’s knowledge of the Bene Gesserit had clued him in to the existence of the breeding programme. And it was the best explanation they had for your initial interest – they were both heirs to great Houses with once members of your Order as mothers.

But they both agreed that your interest in them, now surpassed your duty.

All that remained was figuring out how to share you.

Dune Taglist:

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@alexagirlie @kaelatargaryen

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it's always two dumb bitches going no exactlyyyyyy

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dune, frank herbert // dune: part two (2024), denis villeneuve // circe, madeline miller // selected poems, margaret atwood

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Reduced to Teeth

AN: This was written for the feydpaul secret santa 2024 event hosted by @sleepstxtic and it was so much fun! This fic is dedicated to @space-blue !!

Divoder by @cafekitsune

Fandom: Dune

Ship: Paul x Feyd

Rating: T

TW: post-canon, canon compliant, injuryed feyd, eldritch horror paul, no actual feyd/paul but feyd would hit that.

Summary: Feyd was not expecting to wake up after his duel with Paul Atreides

Taglist: @softhecreator @almostg @gatoenlaciudad

Feyd wasn't expecting to wake up, not ever again. He remembered the sensation of Atreides’ blade sinking deep into his chest, parting skin and muscle and he had thought for sure into his heart. He had barely felt the pain of the wound at first, just a release of pressure before he felt the hot, wet sensation of his blood spilling over his skin and staining his armour. Only then did he feel the pain as the blade sank deep and true into his flesh, followed by relief that it was over and he could rest.

He remembered the weirdness which had emanated from the Atreides, the strange darkness in his opponents eyes, the flickering between the spice addicted blue and alien pitch black. The momentary glimpse of too many teeth between those pretty, cock sucking lips before the world went dark as he lost consciousness, he thought forever.

He certainly didn't expect to wake up on a soft bed in a lavish looking room that was as far from a cell as it could be. He would have expected a hard cot in a dark, desert hole in the basement of the fortress or, given the nature of his injury, a bed in the medical wing of the fortress. Not this, whatever this was.

The room had beige stone walls, sandstone, as all walls in the great fortress of Arrakeen were made from, with tall, narrow slits for windows which let in slivers of yellow light. The wall directly across from where he laid on a soft bed was carved with an intricate scene of a sandworm rising from the dunes, each curve of its teeth painstakingly carved. The rest of the walls were draped in what Feyd assumed were moisture wicking fabrics in shades or orange and reds, designed to preserve the moisture in the room for use later.

To his left below one of the windows was a simple seating area, a circular stone table with two stone chairs with plush looking cushions on the seat. A tall pitcher of water sat on the table, condensations beading along its rim, decadent and extravagant on this hellscape of a planet.

His inspection of the room was interrupted by the click of a lock and the door opening, revealing the last person Feyd expected to see attend him; The new Emperor himself, his eternal rival, Paul Atreides.

The dark haired would-be messiah was carrying a tray filled with what looked like medical supplies. Rolls of gauze and bandages, small clay jars which must be filled with ointments and healing tinctures.

He ignored Feyd completely as he made his way to a small table beside the bed where he unloaded his supplies before he turned to acknowledge the Harkonnen scion.

Once again Feyd was assaulted with a glimpse of something *other* in the Atreides witch, the shadow of multiple long, thin appendages sprouting from Atreides’ back and filled the space behind him before between once blink and the next they disappeared.

“What am I doing here?” He asked, the words barely above a whisper, his voice hoarse and raspy from disuse.

Paul frowned and didn't answer him, instead he moved to the larger table and poured a glass of water which he brought to Feyd’s side and Feyd forced himself to swallow his pride and allowed the other man to carefully tip the cold liquid into his mouth.

After several soothing mouthfuls Feyd tried again.

“What am I doing here?” This time the words came out clear, if still a bit weak.

“I am having you be treated for the injuries sustained during our duel,” Paul answered, no emotions or clues to be found in his voice.

“Why?” Feyd pressed, needing to know why Atreides would risk keeping him alive.

“Because I wish for you to stay alive.” Was the infuriatingly useless answer.

“As your prisoner,” Feyd replied flatly.

“As my ally, I hope,” Paul replied as he opened several of the small clay jars and the pungent scent of herbs filled the air, earthy and bitter in Feyd’s nose.

Feyd sneered though on the inside the idea wasn't a horrible one. With his uncle now dead he could truly elevate his house to his standards and playing nice to the new emperor would go a long way towards that. Even if in the future he would rip that power from Atreides cold, dead hands.

But appearances must be kept.

“Atreides and Harkonnen as allies? That will never happen.”

Paul shrugged nonchalantly, “that remains to be seen,” he answered cryptically and continued his treatment without another word.

Paul was methodical as he changed Feyd's blood stained bandages. His hands were gentle but firm as they cleaned the wound site, a small line of severed skin held with uniform sutures and applied a thick layer of the pungent smelling ointment before being covered in fresh gauze and wrapped in new bandages.

The young Emperor didn't waste anymore words as he silently gathered his supplies onto his tray and rose back to his feet as soon as he was done.

He hesitated in the doorway and Feyd waited to see what this strange boy would say.

“Someone will be there shortly to bring you the evening meal. Play nice or I will have you executed… Baron.”

He looked over his shoulder at Feyd and this time the otherness that had stayed hidden while Paul had tended to him had returned. Clear and obvious and horrifying.

His spice blue eyes were black, solid black like a black hole and when he grinned at Feyd his mouth stretched too wide and he had too many teeth. Sharp, pointed teeth meant for rending and tearing of flesh, of a predator. His shadow stretched across the flood of Feyd's not-cell and he watched as it grew and grew. Sprouting horns from the shadow of Paul's skull and too many limbs with long, wicked looking claws. The shadow withered and shifted and for the first time in years Feyd felt true fear.

And no small part of arousal, he wondered what such a beast would feel like between his legs or under him as he reduced the Atreides to a desperate, mindless, sobbing animal.

He hoped they both lived long enough to find out.

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May thy blade chip and shatter