#bene gesserit au

[evita-shelby]

Slither

aka the Dune AU

Bene Gesserit!Eva x Tommy Shelby

The Reverend Mother Superior needed to control his bloodline when the first woman she sent him fell victim to her own hubris.

Charles Shelby was supposed to be a daughter Sister Grace would then raise as Clive McMillan's child until she was old enough to be sent to train under the sisterhood. There was no reason for her to kill her husband using the Voice and produce a son to ensure Thomas Shelby married her after. The Sisterhood had no choice but to punish her for her transgressions a month into the wedding to set the example for other willful sisters.

Then Shelby just had to impregnate his secretary and marry her.

While Elizabeth Stark’s genetics and background were undesirable, she produced a daughter with good potential who would be worthy of the Sisterhood and be a foremother to the Kwisatz Haderach. Ruby Shelby was to be trained to succeed Elizabeth Gray and Martha Shelby only to die in childhood from natural causes.

By then Sister Elizabeth had died and the family had finally been deemed worthy of having a Truthsayer assigned to him.

Sister Eva was of a Major House, beautiful in the way that attracted her lord, well-trained and with a gift of foresight that could produce a Reverend Mother Superior and eventually the Messiah. Had Sister Elizabeth not requested no harm come to her nephew’s wife, she would have made the perfect Consort.

Her welcome to Arrow House is exactly as she had expected. Lady Shelby is cold knowing what she is here for and most of the household follows her lead, young master Charlie is curious of her having been bonded to his great aunt for his protection and Lord Shelby is wary of her.

He is attracted to her, Eva had been raised to be alluring, to seduce and slither her way into hearts and minds. Thomas fights it now, but won’t fight it forever, soon he will be under her thumb and in her bed. His wife will have no choice but to accept the role she has been given or she would follow her predecessor into death.

It would not be the first time Eva had needed to dispose of the obstacles in her path, and certainly would not be the last.

[theartintrying]

jayvik dune au?

[xsister-serpent]

Whispers Of Power

Summary: Y/N, a gifted Force-sensitive student at Luke Skywalker’s academy, struggling to control a rare power called “The Voice.” Their bond with Ben Solo deepens as they explore their abilities, but a dangerous confrontation reveals Ben’s darker tendencies and Y/N’s growing dominance.

Years later, Y/N is part of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood, having mastered her powers. When Supreme Leader Kylo Ren arrives, specifically requesting Y/N, their shared past resurfaces, setting the stage for a fateful and powerful reunion.

Warnings: Dark chapter/ Intro, Bullying, Eventually this is have smut but it will be tagged as so/ Slowburn/ y/n is a bit prideful but every woman should be/female reader pronouns/ A/N at end Word Count: 1954

Flashback: Planet Ossus 

You were in the quietness of space now. Your eyes closed, and you felt your soul within the low, pulsating heartbeat of the Force. Your senses heightened—picking up the shuffle of birds and the shifting blades of grass. This was your solace, a small hideaway from the other students, who you knew were secondary in Luke’s Academy. Except for one student: Ben.

You knew something had changed in you, and you were certain it wasn’t just puberty. You felt it the day you met Luke and his nephew Ben on your lush, oceanic home planet of Pelagora. Something cracked in your psyche a month after settling in—something even Ben couldn’t understand.

But little did you know, you could use it. Hone it.

“Y/N!” Ben’s voice pierced the silence, jolting you out of your trance.

A heavy sigh left you as Ben’s footsteps approached. You were introverted by nature, and since Ben was the only boy in the academy who was only two years older than you. The two of you had become friends through Force proximity.

“Y/N—” he paused, seeing you in the soft glow of the sunlight. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Mh, and now you’ve found me,” you said, shifting your legs.

Your eyes went to the books he carried under his arm with a spark of excitement. “Did you find anything?”

Ben’s lanky legs folded as he sat beside you, pulling out a leather-bound book. “Not much, but it’s something. From what I’ve researched, it’s a rare gift—one that very few possess. By ‘people,’ I mean women.”

You took the book from him and opened to the page Ben had marked for you. Your eyes scanned over the text, mumbling a few words.

“Bene Gesserit,” you read faintly, your hand going to your neck. “Are they Nightsisters or something?”

“No, they’re a secret organization, almost like us, except it’s only women,” Ben explained with a shrug. “They have all kinds of cool abilities, including the one you have.”

Ben’s eyes drifted to your profile as you read over the page again. Reverence flickered in his gaze as he watched your lips silently form the words.

“The Voice,” you read aloud at the bottom of the page.

You felt a hint of resolution, but it was cut short as you turned the page to find it blank—or, rather, ripped out.

“What? Where’s the rest of it?” you asked, skimming through the book.

Ben sighed and took the book from your hands, his slender fingers grazing yours. “That’s all I could find. I searched everywhere, even sneaking into Luke’s study. Sorry, Y/N.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as his words faded into defeat. You wanted to understand this gift—this power. It set you apart from the others, possibly even from Luke. You got up, pacing slightly as you glanced back at the book.

“Do you think he ripped out the pages?” you asked, pausing mid-step.

Ben’s eyes snapped to you, one brow raised. “What? Why would he?”

“To keep it hidden. You said you had to sneak into his study, right?” you questioned, kneeling in front of him. “Luke only keeps important things in there. If your uncle ripped it out, it means he didn’t want anyone to find it.”

Ben hesitated, his posture stiffening under your scrutiny. You knew he could sense your longing for control over your abilities. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, you knew he’d help. He always did.

“My uncle has been acting differently lately...” Ben pondered, crossing his arms and creasing his forehead.

You shrugged, glancing around the forest to ensure no one else was near. Luke had been apprehensive lately, and you didn’t need to tap into the Force to feel that something was stirring in the unknown.

Your eyes fell on the smaller book in Ben’s hand, which he suddenly tucked away.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“It’s nothing,” Ben retorted, clutching the book tightly and avoiding your gaze.

You scrutinized him, noting the tension in his posture and the slight gulp in his throat.

“Let me see it,” you demanded.

“Y/N, it’s just my calligraphy book. You’ve seen it before,” he stammered, standing abruptly.

“Your calligraphy book is blue. This one is brown,” you countered firmly. “If it’s nothing, why does it matter?”

Ben’s eyes darkened into a glare as he sneered, “Y/N, it’s just a book. You wanted answers for your so-called gift, and that’s all I could find.”

He moved closer, invading your personal space. An electric pull seemed to spark between you, drawing you both into an unspoken standoff.

A sudden Force pull snatched the book from Ben’s hand, landing it in Khal’s grasp. Khal, a boy who often bullied Ben, grinned as he thumbed through the pages.

“Yeah, come on, Solo. Let’s see what’s in the book,” Khal taunted, standing beside you.

You glared at Khal as he began to read aloud in a mocking tone.

“Y/N and I were training today—” Khal read, attempting to mimic Ben’s voice in an exaggerated mockery.

“Shut up,” Ben cut him off, anger lacing his tone.

“She moves so gracefully and powerfully... Oh no way...” Khal chuckled, continuing to read, “I can’t look away. I don’t know if I want to be her... or want her…” “Stop it!” Ben shouted, his voice ripping into the air.

Your eyes snapped to Ben, and his gaze met yours in return. You knew it was forbidden for Jedi to form attachments, to have any tether to another. But in that moment, as you both locked eyes, something shifted in Ben’s expression. The mask of anger fell away, revealing vulnerability.

“Ben... I—” you gasped, but Ben’s hand shot out, gripping Khal and lifting him off the ground.

Khal flailed, desperately clawing at Ben’s wrist, but Ben’s face darkened as he held him suspended in the air, his eyes now glowing brighter than before.

“I told you to stop,” Ben warned coldly, his gaze scanning Khal’s terrified face. “I warned you.”

“I-I’m sorry...” Khal gasped, looking up at Ben with pleading eyes. Then he turned to you, “H-help me, Y/N! Make him stop!!”

You stood motionless, unsure whether to step between the two boys. But something clicked inside you as you glanced from Khal to Ben. With a sharp inhale, you tapped into the hidden power—the one that was dangerous, powerful.

“LET HIM GO!” you commanded, feeling the voices swirl in your throat.

Like a marionette, Ben released Khal, dropping him roughly to his feet. Khal scrambled up, stumbling over a fallen stump, his eyes wide with fear.

Ben’s eyes widened in shock and awe as he stared at you. “What did you do??” he asked, his voice laced with both trepidation and veneration. “How?”

You ignored Ben’s question, keeping your gaze fixed on Khal, whose fear was palpable.

“No, please, I won’t tell anyone! I swear I won’t tell Luke or anyone!” Khal pleaded, clinging to the dead wood for support.

Perhaps it was that protectiveness that sparked within you. You remembered finding Ben alone in a room once, his lip split open as he wiped the blood away. He never wanted to talk about it, but you knew... you knew who caused it. You placed a reassuring hand on Ben’s forearm—a small, silent understanding between you two. Your eyes locked onto Khal’s.

Taking a deep breath, you tapped into the power once more. “KNEEL.”

Without hesitation, Khal sank to his knees, trembling in his sweat-soaked clothes. Ben’s gaze shifted from the scene to you, filled with awe. He’d heard voices in his dreams, but this voice was different—ancient.

You spoke again, your voice carrying a dangerous authority, “BREAK YOUR THUMB."

A loud snap echoed through the forest, followed by a sharp, agonized cry.

Present Day, Planet: Rossak

You observed the younger Bene Gesserit training, watching them move with their blunt knives. You kept your focus on a few who showed potential, making mental notes to report to your superiors. There was a slight sense of pride in knowing you had mentored a few of them. They had also become your whisperers, reporting on the life you had left behind.

But there was nothing to be found.

A sigh escaped you as you pulled your gaze away, shifting your focus to the trainees. The hushed voices around you grew quieter as you entered the study, where your fellow sisters awaited. The familiar scent of ink and parchment reminded you of the academy—its large bookcases and the sense of peace it once gave you. But as you settled into the space, something shifted. A subtle ripple in the waters of your mind.

You stopped, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. A quiet tug. A whisper. The voice that carried it froze you in place. Ben’s voice...

A sudden, distant boom above the keep caused some of your sisters to pause in their tasks. One of the younger girls approached the window, looking out with curiosity.

“Lady Y/N...” she called, looking over her shoulder. “Have you ever seen a ship like that?”

You raised an eyebrow, walking over to the window with quiet steps. In the distance, a gunmetal black command shuttle stood, surrounded by a squadron of Finalizers. Standing at attention to receive them was Reverend Mother Gala, her face stoic and unwavering. But what caught your attention was the tall, imposing figure who emerged from the shuttle. His black robes billowed in the rain-tossed wind, giving him an ethereal, almost phantom-like quality. His helmet, obsidian black with silver accents, hid his face, but his body language spoke volumes. He bowed his head to the Reverend Mother before approaching her alone.

Your mind raced in different directions as you tried to piece together the mystery of this masked man.

“He specifically asked for you,” spoke Elder Sister Mya, her brown eyes following you closely as you walked beside her. “The Supreme Leader was very... insistent that it must be you. He refused other, more experienced sisters without a second glance.”

“Did he?” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder as you rubbed your thumb over your knuckle—a nervous habit you tried to break. You could see the troopers moving your boxes carefully toward the command shuttle.

“He knows you, Y/N,” Mya said, her voice soft but firm. “The Reverend Mother has sensed it, and so have I. But you have no idea who he is?”

“I have a few theories, but they’re far-fetched,” you replied, rolling the tension from your shoulders as you braced yourself to meet him.

“Hmm. Regardless, the Bene Gesserit and myself have approved your relocation within the First Order. Having one of our own in that fractured part of space is enough to pinpoint its weaknesses,” Mya continued as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “Remember... we Bene Gesserit do not hope—”

“We plan,” you finished for her.

With a steady, slow exhale, you set your mask of stoicism in place, your veil securely shielding you from the rain that cascaded from your robes. Through the thunder that rumbled across the sky, you heard faint footsteps approaching. Your eyes tracked them, seeing the Supreme Leader draw nearer. His steps echoed in the gray corridor, each one deliberate, imposing.

He was even more monumental up close. His broad shoulders and towering height gave him a predatory grace. He stopped in front of you, allowing you to take him in. His face hidden, but his body language clearly inviting your inspection. It was as if he was silently offering you a form of parity acknowledgment.

Power recognizes power.

A deep, metallic voice emerged from behind the mask, carrying a single, simple word.

“Come.”

A/N: Got inspired by Dune and Dune: Prophecy so I figured why not mix two sci-fi epics together? This will be a multi-chapter fic, please lmk if you'd like to be tagged.

[mutsubaki]

Muad’Dib who steals one glance from Feyd-Rautha.

Muad’Dib who comes into the chambers where the prisoners are kept in the middle of the night, disheveled and angry, and just drags Feyd-Rautha somewhere. Nobody stops him.

Muad’Dib who takes his mask off in the darkness of the Arrakis night and reveals himself as Paul Atreides. Paul, who reveals that in the morning they would fight to death, as pawns of Bene Gesserit, and that he is so tired. That he is forced to follow their path and he wants to make his own choices.

Paul, who begs Feyd-Rautha to run away with him and mess up everyone’s plan.

They run away; nobody follows. Chani takes place at the fremen Council, Irulan makes her move as a negotiator, Arrakis regains more independance, and the Corrinos keep the throne.

All while the boys get a couple of days to be boys. Run away with each other, spill all their secrets: Paul already knows everything, so Feyd-Rautha can finally tell someone. Dream about future where their past doesn’t matter. Make love.

Of course, their silly resistance doesn’t last. After one breath of freedom, Feyd longs to feel the power, and he obviously choses to get back to Giedi Prime as a Baron.

So Baron Harkonnen returns - with a nameless, faceless figure, veiled in a way resembling Bene Gesserit, but different. Feyd-Rautha says that they saved him in the desert. That he has his own Truthsayer now.

Reverend Mother Superior thinks that it’s meaningless show off. He can have his desert witch, this would’t make any impact on their mission.

This line of thought is acceptable to all parties involves.

[axkirak]

Special : My mother is my enemy│(Qimir x Reader)

Remark : This one-shot is a special chapter from The Curse of Cassandra series. I recommend reading the main series first before reading this one.

Read in Ao3 : here

Pairings:  Qimir x f!reader(SEA Reader)  [The Acolyte]

Content Rating : Mature 18+  Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warning (AT YOUR OWN RISK)

tags/themes : Alternate Universe - Dune & Star wars, Partners in Crime, Strangers to Lovers

A/N : another special chapter because I still can’t move on from The Curse of Cassandra

This special chapter is inspired by the love-hate relationship between Paul, Alia, and Jessica (in the novels. Paul and Alia both hate and love their mom, while Jessica fears her kids and what she's created.)

The story might seem confusing since it's closely tied to the main plot. It ends a bit open-ended, but that’s intentional. It's meant to fill in gaps and explain certain things. Not sure if it'll leave you more confused, though—like about who Alia really is and whether she's Qimir's daughter. But I’ll leave that open for you to interpret. No right or wrong here. I wanted Alia's identity to stay unclear.

[Special II ] My mother is my enemy

My mother is my enemy. She does not know it, but she is. She bore me; she trained me. She is my enemy.

Paul Atreides (Dune Book One)

As you reflect on your past, a deep regret lingers for the choices you've made. 

You wonder: if you hadn’t chosen to drink the Water of Life that day, would things have turned out differently?

You wouldn’t have uncovered the truth about Qimir being a Sith Lord, nor would you have had to face the looming catastrophe threatening the universe. Most importantly, your daughter wouldn’t have been born with this 'abnormality.'

You had never considered having children, as the Bene Gesserit trained you to control your body with meticulous precision, down to the exact timing of ovulation. You were confident you had taken every precaution, but fate has a way of slipping through even the smallest cracks. By the time you noticed the changes in your body, it was already too late.

You discovered your pregnancy after drinking the Water of Life. Paul Atreides himself delivered the grim news: “I’m sorry to tell you this, but your child will not be normal. I’ve done everything in my power to help, but I don’t know if it will work.”

You knew well the consequences of drinking the Water of Life while pregnant: if the child was male, he would die in the womb immediately. But if female, she would be born with a curse—an 'Abomination' a forbidden being by the Bene Gesserit’s teachings. Just like you. Just like Alia Atreides.

And unfortunately, your child was a girl.

While your Ruh-spirit drifts through Al’am Al-Mithal, teetering on the edge of life and death, you are haunted by visions of intertwined destinies—yours and your unborn child’s. This pregnancy is entwined with the Kwisatz Haderach’s destined path, an unavoidable twist in the tapestry of fate.

Years from now, your daughter will bear another daughter. This cycle will repeat until a son is finally born—Anakin Skywalker, the second Kwisatz Haderach.

Your child’s entire life has been predetermined, even before she was born.

What have I brought into this world? you wonder.

This question comes to your mind as you hold the infant in your arms, after enduring the long, torturous labor on Tatooine. The baby’s skin is flushed red, her small body eerily still, making no sound, For a terrifying moment, she seems lifeless. until she opens her eyes—striking blue and filled with an awareness far beyond her age, as though she has lived through lifetimes.

The baby reaches out, her tiny fingers curling around your pinky finger. That first touch stirs a bond that has existed since she was in your womb. The gradual mental connection reveals a chilling truth: the Water of Life has completely altered the child’s soul. Her essence has been bathed in ancestral memories, leaving almost nothing of her own self intact.

This child is mine, you think with sorrow and fear as you look at your daughter's face, but she is also not mine.

Paul’s voice echoes in your mind, confirming your thoughts. You are right.

In that instant, you feel Paul’s essence radiating from somewhere deep within your consciousness. You clearly sense that his emotions at this moment are trembling no differently from your own.

“Alia,” the name slips from your lips, but it is Paul who speaks.

And the baby, wrapped in a clean white cloth, responds with a faint, enigmatic smile that stops you cold.

On that day, you decided to name your daughter 'Alia the Second' after Paul Atreides’ sister

Alia, the Strange One—that’s what they call her.

Alia speaks her first words at just six months old. Unlike typical infant babbling, her speech shifts between the tones of a child and moments of clarity so profound, it feels almost out of place for a baby.

And the first word she says is “Paul.”

The name she utters almost causes family problems, as Qimir doesn't understand who this 'Paul' is, and why his daughter would call out another man’s name instead of his.

But you know well that Alia isn't speaking to you or Qimir—she is communicating with Paul Atreides.

“I love you, Paul,” the little girl tells you once. Her simple words strike a deep chord with your soul.

You turn to look at the child lying in her cradle, and suddenly, a wave of emotions surges through you. The feeling isn’t yours—it’s Paul’s. Sorrow, longing, regret, guilt—they crash over you all at once, leaving you in tears before you even realize it.

“I love you too, Alia,” Paul responds.

Alia reveals her Force abilities for the first time when she’s only three years old. The incident happens unintentionally and nearly turns disastrous had you not intervened in time.

At first, you don’t understand what’s happening. All you see are several children lying on the ground, writhing in pain, their cries of anguish filling the air. Only Alia stands amidst the chaos, her expression cold and detached, a trickle of blood running down from her nose to her chin. She seems unaware of her actions, as though lost in her own world—or perhaps another realm entirely.

It’s not until you shout, using the Voice, "Alia, stop this now!" that she snaps back to reality, and everything halts immediately

You quickly scoop her up and rush home, your heart pounding with indescribable anxiety. You realize this is far more serious than you had anticipated. Alia has never shown any signs of Force sensitivity—not to mention the Bene Gesserit techniques you haven’t even begun to teach her. Yet the child somehow wields both powers simultaneously. Worse still, she uses them to harm others.

Soon, this news is bound to reach other ears, and if it reaches the Jedi or other dangerous factions in the galaxy—your family’s safety, especially Alia’s, will be in grave jeopardy.

When the door closes shut, you kneel before Alia, placing your hands firmly on her small shoulders. Staring into her face, discomfort grows within you. Alia doesn’t resemble you or Qimir at all. Instead, she eerily resembles Paul Atreides—especially her large, deep blue eyes that hold a wisdom far beyond her years. You tell yourself that Alia is still a child, your daughter, no matter what essence dwells within her spirit.

“What did you do to those children? Why?” Your voice grows harsh, almost angry, though you manage to keep control over your temper.

“They called me a freak. I was so angry I wanted them to hurt... and then they just fell down,” Alia whispers, her head bowed, refusing to meet your gaze. “I really am a freak.”

You can feel her emotions—deep sadness and guilt radiating through her small frame. She’s not lying. She didn’t mean for it to happen. But controlling one’s emotions and powers is extremely difficult for a child this age. It’s even harder for someone who has been different since birth.

You hug your daughter tightly, silent tears streaming down your face. Guilt consumes you. This isn’t Alia’s fault—it’s yours. You are the one who brought this child into this world, knowing full well what Alia is, and knowing what fate awaits her ahead.

For a moment, you can't help but think that giving birth to Alia was a grave mistake, a mistake you cannot go back and fix.

“You’re not a freak, Alia. You’re special,” you protest with a trembling voice. Yet, deep down, you know those words are nothing more than a comforting lie.

Your child is a freak, and so are you. That’s an undeniable truth.

Qimir isn’t particularly shocked when he learns of Alia’s powerful display of the Force. You can tell he has sensed something unusual about her all along, even though he has never asked you about it directly. Which is a relief, as you’re not ready to explain everything to him—not just about Paul’s spirit but also the complexities of Alia’s nature, a mystery no ordinary person, let alone one who isn’t Bene Gesserit, could ever truly understand.

Still, conflict within your family becomes inevitable. Qimir wants Alia to become his apprentice, to inherit the Sith ways—an idea you adamantly refuse. You know the cruelty of the Sith path, especially the ritual that demands the apprentice to take their master’s life to ascend as the new Sith Lord.

You know Alia has the potential to do it—her powers are formidable. With proper training, defeating Qimir wouldn’t be difficult. But you would never let that happen. "The Sith way will not be used on my child. I will not let her kill her own father!" you declare with unyielding determination. It’s the first time you dare to defy the agreement between you and Qimir, and the only time he cannot override your will.

You vow that Alia’s hands will never be stained with blood like yours or Qimir’s. You don’t want her to face the same cruelty. That’s why you are determined to protect her completely, allowing her to grow up as a normal person, free from the paths of the Sith, the Jedi, or the Bene Gesserit. You believe this is the only thing you, as a mother, can do for your child.

Yet, in the end, you still fail.

Alia committed her first murder at the age of five. This time was different from the previous incidents—she did it with deliberate intent, not by accident or carelessness.

Your family’s sense of security began to erode two years ago, the moment Alia started using her powers. Stories of a strange young girl harnessing both the Force and the ancient magic of the Bene Gesserit eventually caught the attention of certain bounty hunters.

Being hunted was nothing new to you and Qimir. Over the years, the two of you had become adept at forging identities, blending in, and disappearing whenever danger came too close. But things were far more complicated now that you had a child to protect. Relocating and covering your tracks became increasingly difficult, especially since the bounty hunters no longer targeted you or Qimir. Their focus was entirely on Alia.

What better target could there be than a seemingly harmless child, easy to capture?

That’s what they thought, and it turned out to be a fatal mistake.

You watch Alia, your daughter, sitting with her legs gently swinging over the edge of a wooden chair in the secret hideout. Her gray aba[1] robe remains pristine, free of bloodstains—a stark contrast to the blood-soaked concrete floor surrounding her. Scattered across the room are the corpses of several men, their lifeless bodies lying in disarray.

Using the observation techniques of the Bene Gesserit, you quickly discern that none of the corpses show any signs of struggle. The absence of resistance and the unnatural positioning of their bodies make it clear: they willingly turned their weapons on one another.

There is only one explanation for this—the Voice.

Despite being surrounded by this gruesome bloodbath, Alia shows no trace of fear. You know immediately, without needing any special techniques, that your daughter caused all this.

Fortunately, Qimir isn’t here to witness this, you think. If he were, I wouldn’t know how to explain what our daughter has done.

“I had to do it, Mother,” Alia says, calling you “Mother” for the first time. Her voice is steady, too composed for a child of her age. “If I hadn’t acted, they would have kept coming after us.” She sighs softly, then offers you an innocent smile. “Father will understand. He might even be proud that I can defend myself.”

She’s not wrong. The Sith revere strength above all else. It’s this very philosophy that made Qimir a Sith Lord after he slaughtered countless Jedi—and his own master.

But you are not a Sith. And for the first time, you feel a deep, visceral fear toward your own daughter—something you’ve never felt before “Alia, this isn’t something a child like you should—”

“I am a woman of the desert,” she cuts in, her tone resolute, her words sharp as a blade. “And this is what every Fremen child does when faced with threats. You should be proud too, Mother.”

You stare at your daughter, stunned by the ferocity concealed within the eyes of this five-year-old girl.

You’ve always known Alia wasn’t an ordinary child, but now there’s something about her that shakes you to your core—something alien, otherworldly, and incomprehensibly vast. In that fleeting moment, it feels as if the emotional bond between you and your daughter has vanished.

She’s not my child. The thought crystallizes in your mind with harrowing clarity. You mutter under your breath, your gaze hollow, “I should have killed you…”

Alia shakes her head slowly, a soft, amused laugh slipping from her lips. “Father said the same thing to you once, didn’t he? But he couldn’t do it.” She stops swinging her legs and locks eyes with you, her piercing blue gaze unsettlingly profound. “And I know you can’t, either. You love me, even if you try to deny it.”

Your throat tightens, dry as desert sand, leaving you speechless—because every word Alia says cuts through to the truth.

That’s when it dawns on you—Alia has become another Reverend Mother, one who transcends the boundaries of past, present, and future. She is a Truthsayer who sees all, who knows all.

Because I drank the Water of Life. That’s why she became this.

The thought invades your mind, and you can’t help but wonder—if you hadn’t made that choice, could everything have turned out differently?

Alia moves calmly, rising from her chair and stepping onto the blood-soaked floor without a moment’s hesitation. She walks toward you, extending her small hand to take yours. In that simple touch, the bond between mother and daughter is reignited, their emotions fusing as one. You feel her thoughts, her emotions, as she feels yours.

“Don’t blame yourself, Mother,” Alia says softly, her tiny hand gently stroking the back of yours. She is unnervingly composed, her presence both calming and unsettling. “You know this was the only choice you had.”

“I just hope I made the right choice,” you whisper, exhaustion thickening your voice.

“I cannot say for sure, Mother,” Alia replies evenly. “But you’ve reshaped history. Humanity will owe its survival to you—and to Atreides.”

History—The word rings bitterly in your mind.

Yes, they will owe you everything. But what value does that have? In the end, your story will fade into obscurity, lost to the sands of time. No one will remember your name. The only trace of your existence will be a brief entry: ‘The last Bene Gesserit who perished on Eiram’

And no one in this vast universe will ever understand the sacrifices you made to save it all.

Footnotes:

[1]An aba (or abayah) is a loose, simple robe worn by Muslim women (and is mentioned in the Dune novels as the traditional garment of Fremen women).

[novaursa]

Of Gods and Men (contact)

This is Dune/GOT/HOTD/FAB/ASOIAF crossover AU that you've voted for. If you always wanted to see House Targaryen in space, I got you. Please note how some of the lore of both universes is bent to blend in both worlds. This is my original idea that I've been cooking for at least two years. Be gentle with my work, and enjoy the ride.

- Summary: House Targaryen survives their ancient exile after being overthrown by House Corrino and the Bene Gesserit. Fleeing to the unknown planet Albiron, the Targaryens build a hidden civilization powered by drakaon crystals, reviving their dragons and creating advanced technology. Millennia later, whispers of their survival begin to surface as the Bene Gesserit confront a mysterious Red Woman on Arrakis, who warns of a coming Prince That Was Promised destined to challenge their control. The Targaryens secretly prepare to return, ready to reclaim their legacy.

- Pairing: reader!Daenys Targaryen/Leto Atredies

- Note: For more details about House Targaryen and their technology, please check out the masterlist.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: exodus

- Next part: daenys

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

- A/N: The reader will have much more larger role in the next part as plot is established better.

The transport starship of House Vex shuddered as it emerged from the shimmering folds of space, settling into the cold, dark void at the exact coordinates it always did. This part of the unknown universe was rarely traveled, its stars dim and uncharted, hidden far beyond the grasp of the Imperium’s prying eyes. The black and sleek ship, known as Vassel's Edge, gleamed under the faint light of distant stars, its wing-like solar collectors retracted as it prepared for its next stage of the journey.

Captain Harl Vex, a stout man with sharp green eyes and a graying beard, stood at the helm, his fingers tapping methodically on the command console as he surveyed the coordinates. This route was familiar to him, yet today something felt different. His ship was not carrying its usual crew; today, several guests from House Ix were aboard, their curiosity piqued by the mysterious buyer House Vex delivered to.

Harl glanced over his shoulder to where the members of House Ix were seated—three of them, watching the starfield with a mix of intrigue and impatience. The leader of the group was Serus Ix, a tall, thin man with cold blue eyes and a keen intellect that had earned him a reputation as one of the finest minds in his House. Beside him sat Xyla Ix, his younger sister, who shared her brother’s sharp features but had a more cautious demeanor. Lastly, there was Daric Ix, an engineer known for his fascination with all things technological, his mind always whirring with possibilities.

“Coordinates confirmed,” Harl muttered under his breath as the ship's scanners hummed to life. “Now, we wait.”

As if on cue, the space before them flickered, and a green light began to sweep over the ship. The Ixians exchanged glances as the green light pulsed along the ship’s exterior, scanning it methodically from bow to stern.

“What is that?” Daric asked, his curiosity piqued as he leaned forward. “Some sort of advanced scanning technology?”

Captain Vex glanced at him but continued monitoring the readouts. “Precautionary measure,” he said calmly. “From the station where we’ll be delivering the spice. They’re very particular about security, especially with the type of cargo we’re carrying.”

Serus leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “Station? I thought we were meeting a buyer directly. Why all this secrecy?”

Harl gave a thin smile, knowing better than to reveal too much to his guests. “That’s how things are done out here, Serus. House Hightower controls the sentinel stations in this part of space. They keep watch for intruders. We deliver the spice there, and it’s transported elsewhere. And today…” He turned to face Serus fully. “…the mysterious buyer has agreed to meet with you, as per our arrangement.”

Before Serus could press further, the comms crackled to life.

“Vassel’s Edge, you are cleared for docking,” came the calm, authoritative voice of the station commander. “Proceed to docking bay three. You have passengers aboard from House Ix?”

Harl nodded, toggling the comms. “Confirmed. House Ix representatives are aboard, as agreed.”

There was a brief pause before the commander’s voice returned. “They will be escorted to the meeting hall upon arrival. Follow docking instructions precisely.”

The communication ended abruptly, and Harl guided the ship forward, feeling the slight pull of the station’s gravity field as they neared the massive structure. The sentinel station loomed ahead, a dark silhouette against the backdrop of stars. Its angular design was distinct, built for both defense and secrecy, with long spires extending outward, each armed with powerful weapons and sensors capable of detecting any intruder who dared approach this part of space uninvited.

The docking process was smooth, as it had been many times before for Harl. The massive bay doors of the station slid open, revealing the illuminated interior where several other ships, all smaller and less significant than Vassel’s Edge, were docked. The ship glided in silently, its wings folding back as it gently touched down on the docking platform.

As soon as the docking clamps secured the ship, the bay doors sealed shut behind them, and the interior lights of the station grew brighter. The docking platform was already bustling with activity—station personnel moving about, preparing for the next phase of the spice transfer. But amidst the commotion, a group of armored guards stood waiting by the entrance to the station’s inner corridors.

Captain Vex stood and turned to the Ixians. “This is where we part ways for now. The commander will escort you to the meeting hall. I suggest you tread lightly—our hosts are not known for their patience.”

Serus, Xyla, and Daric rose from their seats, adjusting their formal House Ix attire. “We can handle ourselves,” Serus said coolly, though his eyes betrayed a flicker of uncertainty.

The group exited the ship together, stepping down the ramp onto the station floor. The guards were waiting for them, each clad in dark, matte armor that seemed to absorb the station’s artificial light. Their helmets were faceless, their identities concealed, but their presence alone was enough to signal the station’s seriousness about security.

“Welcome to Sentinel Station,” one of the guards said, his voice distorted slightly by the helmet’s modulator. “Follow us. The meeting will begin shortly.”

Without another word, the guards turned and led the group down a long, sterile corridor that wound through the heart of the station. The walls were smooth and metallic, illuminated by thin strips of white light that cast long shadows as they walked. The air was cool, almost too cool, and there was an unsettling quiet that settled over the group as they moved deeper into the station.

As they walked, Daric couldn’t help but whisper to his sister, “This place feels…off. Like there’s something they’re not telling us.”

Xyla gave a subtle nod but kept her gaze forward. “Keep your thoughts to yourself, Daric. We’re guests here, not investigators.”

Serus remained silent, his mind turning over the possibilities of what they might encounter. The technology they had seen so far—advanced scanners, cloaked guards, and now this hidden sentinel station—was far beyond what they had imagined. Whoever this mysterious buyer was, they were clearly operating on a level House Ix had not yet attained. And that intrigued him more than anything.

Finally, they reached a large, reinforced door at the end of the corridor. One of the guards stepped forward and keyed in a code, and with a soft hiss, the door slid open, revealing a dimly lit meeting hall. The room was circular, with a wide table at its center and chairs arranged neatly around it. The air here felt different—charged, as if something unseen was watching them.

As they entered, Serus glanced around, his sharp eyes scanning the room. “Where is our host?”

Before anyone could answer, a new voice echoed from the shadows at the far end of the room.

“Patience, Serus Ix. All will be revealed in time.”

The Ixians turned as a figure emerged from the darkness—a tall, slender man with sharp features and piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly in the low light. He was dressed in dark robes that shimmered like liquid, and though he moved with grace, there was an unmistakable air of authority about him.

Serus stepped forward, his curiosity now fully piqued. “And who might you be?”

The man smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “I am simply a representative of the one you seek. And today, we shall discuss matters of great importance. Matters that will shape the future of your House���and perhaps the galaxy itself.”

Serus, Xyla, and Daric exchanged silent, uneasy glances as the figure before them—the one who had introduced himself as their host’s representative—lingered in the shadows. But something else caught Daric’s eye.

In the far corner of the room, barely visible in the low light, a creature crouched silently, watching them with glowing yellow eyes. Its body was massive, covered in thick, jagged plates of rock-like exoskeleton. Its breath was slow, rumbling, almost volcanic in nature. Daric stiffened, recognizing the creature from his brief studies on unknown ecosystems. It was a Volcanic Stalker, one of the creatures rumored to inhabit remote planets in uncharted territories. The beast’s eyes locked onto him, unblinking and watchful.

Xyla noticed it next, her hand reflexively inching toward her belt where a concealed blade rested. But before either of them could act, the man from the shadows spoke again, his voice calm, almost amused.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a hint of a smirk. “It doesn’t bite—unless commanded.” He stepped fully into the light, revealing more of his features: dark, sharp eyes, and long silver hair tied back in a neat braid. His presence was both regal and intimidating, every movement deliberate. “I am Vaegor, Master of Whispers for House Targaryen. You’ve been brought here to discuss matters that transcend your understanding, but first, sit. We have much to discuss.”

As the Ixians sat, the doors to the chamber opened with a soft hiss, and four figures entered the room. Serus, Daric, and Xyla turned to see who approached, and their breath collectively caught in their throats.

Leading them was Dragonlord Aenys Targaryen—a figure of unmistakable authority. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his regal face framed by long silver-blond hair, eyes a deep violet that seemed to glow with the intensity of one who commanded dragons. His presence filled the room with palpable power, his black robes embroidered with a subtle red three-headed dragon, the sigil of his House. His gaze was calm but fierce, the weight of centuries of tradition behind him. He moved with the grace of someone who had nothing to fear.

Behind him were his three children. First, his eldest son Aelor Targaryen, a young man with strong, chiseled features. He shared his father’s silver-blond hair, but his eyes were darker, like polished amethyst. He wore armor under his cloak, displaying his role as both prince and warrior, his expression cold and unreadable.

Next was Maelor, the younger brother. His resemblance to Aenys was striking—almost identical in appearance except for a faint scar that crossed his left brow, a mark of some past battle. His lilac eyes scanned the room with a playful glint, though his presence was no less commanding. His movements were more fluid, almost casual, yet there was an undeniable danger lurking beneath his calm demeanor.

And finally, you, Daenys Targaryen, Maelor's twin. Your pale blonde hair framed a regal face that bore the marks of your father’s lineage, though it was softened by a scattering of freckles across your cheeks. Your eyes were lilac, like your twin brother’s, but there was a depth to them that seemed to flicker with fire, as if the very soul of a dragon rested within. You were dressed in dark, flowing garments embroidered with symbols of your House, and you carried yourself with the grace of someone who spent more time on dragonback than on land.

Vaegor’s voice broke the silence, gesturing toward the newcomers. “May I present Dragonlord Aenys Targaryen, and his children: Aelor, Maelor, and Daenys.”

At the mention of the name Targaryen, the Ixians immediately stiffened. Serus, who had been the most composed, shot up from his chair, his face a mixture of shock and disbelief. His hand instinctively reached for a weapon that wasn’t there.

“House Targaryen?” Serus blurted out, his eyes darting between the four figures. “Impossible. You—you’re supposed to be—”

“Sit,” Aenys commanded, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. It wasn’t a shout, but the sheer authority behind the word was enough to make Serus’s knees buckle. He slumped back into his chair, unable to defy the Dragonlord’s presence. The room fell deathly silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.

Aenys’s violet gaze lingered on Serus for a moment longer before he slowly took his seat at the head of the table, his children standing behind him, their expressions unchanging. He leaned forward, fingers steepled beneath his chin, as he addressed the Ixians.

“I believe you called this meeting to negotiate an exchange,” Aenys said, his voice measured, cold, and powerful. “You seek our technology, and in return, I wish to know—what do you offer?”

Serus, still visibly shaken, struggled to regain his composure. Xyla, quicker to adapt, took over, her voice steady despite the tension. “We… we offer you more spice, the strain your House has required in the past. We can increase the quantity and—”

Aenys waved his hand dismissively. “We have no shortage of spice,” he said. “What you fail to realize, Ixian, is that on this side of the universe, spice is not the driving force behind power. We care little for your melange beyond its limited use. Now…” His voice darkened slightly, “I suggest you rethink your offer.”

Xyla faltered, unsure of how to proceed, but Serus quickly interjected, trying to salvage the negotiation. “Perhaps, then, we could offer something more… lasting. A mutual exchange of knowledge. We control a harvesting field on Arrakis—one with access to the specific strain of spice you seek. We can offer you independent access to it, so your House may harvest the spice for your needs without reliance on intermediaries.”

Aenys’s eyes narrowed slightly, and a smile—more predatory than pleased—touched his lips. “Interesting. It seems you understand your position well, Serus Ix. You’re desperate, I see, but clever.”

Vaegor, the Master of Whispers, stepped forward, pulling out a piece of parchment from his robes and placing it before Aenys. The Dragonlord signed it with a flourish and then slid it across the table to the Ixians. Xyla’s breath hitched as her eyes fell on the parchment. In the corner of the document was the unmistakable seal of House Targaryen—a three-headed dragon in red wax, sealing the agreement.

Aenys leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on Serus. “You will deliver this agreement to your Emperor,” Aenys said, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable threat. “And let it serve as a warning to him. House Targaryen has returned, and the things to come will make even the most powerful Houses of the Imperium tremble.”

Serus, his heart pounding in his chest, nodded stiffly, unable to tear his eyes from Aenys’s cold, violet stare.

As the Ixians gathered their things, preparing to leave, one thought echoed in their minds: House Targaryen, the House thought to be destroyed millennia ago, was not only alive—they were stronger than ever. And they were preparing for something that could change the balance of power in the galaxy forever.

The grand chamber of the Imperial Palace on Kaitain, with its towering columns of polished marble and intricately woven tapestries, was unusually quiet. Normally bustling with courtiers, representatives from the Landsraad, and the Emperor’s various advisors, today it was a scene of growing anticipation. Serus Ix, along with his House delegation, stood before the Emperor himself, flanked by the shadowy figures of the Spacing Guild’s representatives.

Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV sat upon his gilded throne, his expression unreadable as he held the parchment in his hands. His elaborate robes, adorned with the finest silks and jewels, did nothing to soften the cold fury building in his gaze as he scanned the document. The Imperial Court had never been known for warmth, but today annoyance in the room was well felt.

Serus shifted his weight uneasily. He had delivered the parchment just as instructed, but now that it was in the Emperor’s hands, the weight of what he had seen on that distant sentinel station seemed heavier than ever. The Targaryens—an extinct House by all accounts—were not only alive, but they were thriving, powerful enough to conduct negotiations that would change the galaxy. And now, the Emperor was reading their terms.

As Shaddam’s eyes reached the bottom of the parchment, they landed on the seal—the unmistakable sigil of House Targaryen: a red three-headed dragon imprinted in wax. His expression darkened, and the room seemed to grow colder.

Shaddam’s gaze snapped up, fixing Serus with a piercing look that seemed to burn through his very soul. “Is this a joke?” the Emperor asked, his voice low and deadly, laced with disbelief and a simmering rage. “You bring me this? An artifact of some long-dead House? Have you lost your mind, Serus?”

Serus straightened, trying to steady his voice. “It is no joke, Your Majesty. I saw them with my own eyes. I spoke to the Dragonlord himself, Aenys Targaryen, and his children. They are very much alive. They control a strain of spice unlike anything we’ve encountered—”

Shaddam stood abruptly, his robes billowing as he stepped down from the dais, his face mere inches from Serus’s now. “And you claim to have made a bargain with them? With ghosts? With the very House that once tried to challenge the rule of House Corrino?”

Serus swallowed hard, his mind racing. “Yes, Your Majesty. House Targaryen is no ghost. They’ve remained hidden in the unknown regions of space, and they have advanced far beyond what we could have imagined. They agreed to terms—”

“Terms!” Shaddam interrupted, his voice echoing through the chamber. “They have no right to terms.”

The Emperor’s fingers tightened around the parchment before he thrust it toward the nearest representative of the Spacing Guild, a tall, pale figure with a cloak that seemed to shimmer unnaturally in the dim light. The Guild Navigator, whose face was obscured by the folds of his robe, took the document without a word, but the air around him seemed to shift as he examined the seal.

For a long, tense moment, the chamber was silent as the Navigator carefully inspected the parchment. Then, slowly, the Guild representative turned his head slightly, his voice a low rasp. “This sigil…is authentic.”

A murmur rippled through the chamber, but Shaddam silenced it with a single gesture. His fury had turned to cold calculation now, his eyes narrowing as he looked back at Serus.

“You claim to have spoken to this Dragonlord,” Shaddam said, his voice calmer but no less dangerous. “And you saw his…children?”

Serus nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Majesty. They are powerful, and they are not afraid to make their presence known. They have offered House Ix a chance to share in their technology in exchange for exclusive rights to a specific spice field under our jurisdiction on Arrakis.”

Shaddam's eyes darkened further as he processed this. His mind was already calculating the implications of this revelation. House Ix, aligned with a surviving Targaryen faction—this was more than just a political inconvenience. This was a threat to his rule, and to the entire balance of power in the Imperium.

He turned sharply to Serus. “You and your House will not speak of this to anyone,” Shaddam commanded, his voice brokering no argument. “Not to the Landsraad, not to the Spacing Guild, and certainly not to the Bene Gesserit. This stays between us until we confirm the validity of these claims and until this…danger is contained.”

Serus hesitated for a moment but then bowed low, his heart racing. “As you command, Your Majesty.”

But as he straightened, his mind was already working. The Targaryens had offered something far more valuable than the spice itself—knowledge, power, and a chance to align with a force that could potentially rival even House Corrino. If what Serus had seen was real, the balance of the entire galaxy could shift. And he knew one thing for certain: whichever side he chose in this coming storm would determine the future of House Ix.

The Emperor, meanwhile, turned to the Guild representatives. “You will investigate the location of this spice field. I want every detail. If there’s any truth to what Serus claims, we cannot let this go unchecked.”

The Navigator’s cloaked head dipped in acknowledgment, though the inscrutable expression behind the robes remained hidden. “We will investigate, Your Majesty. But be warned… if House Targaryen has indeed returned, they may not be as easy to contain as you think.”

Shaddam’s jaw tightened at the Navigator’s words, but he gave no reply. Instead, he turned back to Serus, his gaze sharp and unyielding. “You are dismissed, Serus Ix. You and your House are now bound to this silence. Fail to obey, and the consequences will be severe.”

Serus bowed once more, backing out of the room as the Emperor’s gaze followed him, cold and threatening. The doors to the chamber shut behind him, but Serus’s mind was already far from the gilded halls of Kaitain.

As he stepped into the shadowed corridors of the palace, Serus felt the weight of his decision pressing down on him. On one hand, obedience to the Emperor. On the other, the potential alliance with the most powerful House the galaxy had never forgotten—House Targaryen, reborn in exile.

For the first time, Serus truly understood the danger that lay ahead. But his mind, ever pragmatic, began to turn toward the future. The Emperor could issue his orders, and the Guild could investigate all they liked. But once dragons returned to the stars, no command from Kaitain would be able to stop them.

And Serus Ix would need to decide—whether to stand with the crumbling Empire of Shaddam Corrino or to pledge his allegiance to the rising flame of House Targaryen.

For in the coming war, neutrality was not an option.

The icy winds of Arctis howled across the desolate expanse of the frozen planet, biting through even the most advanced thermal suits of the Atreides forces as they huddled in the shelter of a hastily constructed outpost. The sky above was a constant swirling gray, the heavy clouds thick with snow, casting an eternal twilight over the ice-covered landscape. This world was a brutal, inhospitable place—its temperatures always well below freezing—but it was also strategically vital. Positioned at the very fringe of Atreides territory, it served as a critical point of control in the ongoing struggle between House Atreides and their bitter rivals, the Harkonnens.

Duke Leto Atreides stood at the edge of the outpost’s overlook, his cloak flapping in the wind as he stared out across the snowy plains. His breath formed faint clouds of vapor in the frozen air, but his gaze was steady, focused. This was not the first time the Harkonnens had made a move in contested space, but something about this situation felt different. Strange. And it concerned him.

Duncan Idaho, his most trusted swordmaster, approached from behind, his footsteps crunching in the snow. “My Lord,” Duncan said, his tone quiet but urgent. “Our scouts have confirmed Harkonnen forces are moving deeper into the eastern sector. We’ve also detected strange activity near their base. It’s… divided their attention.”

Leto turned, his expression darkening. “What kind of activity?”

Duncan glanced toward the tactical console set up inside the shelter. “Unknown, my Lord. But it’s enough to pull Harkonnen resources away from their main defense. They’re not focused entirely on us.”

The Duke’s brow furrowed as he considered this. “They’re being distracted?”

“More than that,” came a gruff voice from behind them. Gurney Halleck, Leto’s loyal warmaster, approached, his scarred face creased with concern. “We’ve picked up starship signatures entering and leaving Arctis’s orbit—unknown ships. Our sensors can’t get a clear reading, almost as if they’re cloaked by some kind of technology or interference. The planet’s extreme conditions are messing with our equipment, but it’s more than just the cold.”

Leto’s eyes narrowed. “Cloaked ships?”

“Or something close to it,” Gurney replied grimly. “Hawat is already analyzing what we’ve got, but he says whatever’s happening here is beyond what either the Harkonnens or we have access to. This is something… different.”

Thufir Hawat, Leto’s master of assassins and the greatest Mentat in the Imperium, stood nearby, watching the exchange with his cold, calculating eyes. His mind worked faster than most, and he had already drawn several conclusions before any of them had finished speaking.

“We don’t have much data,” Hawat said, his voice clipped, efficient. “But we know this: someone else is playing in this frozen field, and they don’t want to be found. They’ve drawn the Harkonnens’ attention, but we’re not immune to the consequences of whatever game they’re playing. The unknown activity is concentrated near the Harkonnen base, but it’s close enough to our location that it could interfere with our operations.”

Leto’s expression hardened. The cold winds of Arctis might have frozen the planet, but the battle for control here was heating up. The Harkonnens had escalated their presence on Arctis, no doubt hoping to force a confrontation, and now it seemed they weren’t alone in their schemes. The unknown starship signatures added another layer of complexity to an already volatile situation.

“If the Harkonnens are distracted,” Leto said, “this might be our best chance to strike before they consolidate their forces. But we can’t ignore this other activity.”

He looked to Duncan and Gurney. “We’ll investigate both—whatever the Harkonnens are doing, and this unknown presence. I want answers before we engage in a full-scale confrontation.”

Duncan nodded. “We have a tactical advantage if they’re divided, my Lord. If we move quickly, we can investigate the source of these unknown ships and the activity near their base without drawing their full attention.”

“I agree,” Gurney added, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade. “But we need to be careful. Whoever’s out there isn’t playing by the same rules. They’ve got technology that’s far beyond what we’ve seen, and if they’re operating here, it means they’re invested in this conflict. We don’t know what they want yet.”

Leto paced for a moment, weighing the risks. The cold bite of the wind and the ever-present tension between the Atreides and Harkonnen forces swirled in his mind, but there was something deeper gnawing at him—this unknown factor. The possibility that a third party was manipulating the situation couldn’t be ignored.

He stopped and turned to face his men. “We can’t wait for the Harkonnens to make the first move. Duncan, Gurney, prepare the men. We’ll send strike teams—one to probe the Harkonnen base and watch for retaliation and the other to investigate the unknown activity. We’ll hit both targets simultaneously and find out what’s happening here.”

Hawat stepped forward, his voice calm but firm. “I’ll oversee the scouting of the unknown presence. If there’s a larger plot at work, I’ll find it.”

Leto nodded, his decision made. “We move at dawn. Prepare the forces. We’ll take control of this planet, but we’ll do it on our terms.”

Duncan, Gurney, and Hawat all gave sharp nods before turning to leave, their tasks clear. As they walked away, Leto stood alone for a moment, staring out at the endless white expanse of Arctis. The wind howled louder, and in the distance, he could see the faint glimmers of movement—Harkonnen forces, just on the horizon.

But beyond them, there was something else. Something hidden. Something dangerous.

As Duke Leto turned back toward the outpost, preparing for the battle ahead, one thought kept echoing in his mind: the Harkonnens weren’t the only threat on this frozen world.

And whatever this unknown presence was, it could change the balance of power in the galaxy.

He only hoped they were ready for what they would find.

The winds of Arctis were relentless the next morning, cutting through the layers of thermal gear worn by Duke Leto and his elite soldiers as they pressed forward into the endless snowfields. The cold was so biting it seemed to seep into their bones, but the Atreides were disciplined, their determination unwavering despite the planet's hostile environment. The icy terrain crunched underfoot as they made their way deeper into the region where the strange activity had been detected.

Duncan Idaho had split off with a squadron to the east, tasked with probing the Harkonnen base and the surrounding areas, while Gurney Halleck led another group to the west, scouting for potential ambushes. Leto had remained with Thufir Hawat, the Mentat whose abilities made him invaluable for solving the riddles of this mysterious situation. Their own squad of Atreides soldiers—veterans of countless engagements—moved like shadows in the frozen landscape, their black and green armor stark against the white snow.

As they pressed on, one of Leto’s men, Sergeant Kellor, held up his hand, signaling for a halt. His visor was scanning the horizon, his breath clouding in the freezing air.

"Sir," Kellor said, his voice crackling over the comms. "We’ve picked up a strange communication frequency. It's intermittent, but definitely coming from somewhere nearby. We can’t make heads or tails of the language used, though. The computer’s unable to translate it."

Leto's brow furrowed as he glanced at Hawat, who had moved closer, his analytical mind already at work. "Play it," Leto ordered, his voice calm but with an edge of curiosity.

Kellor nodded and tapped a few commands into his handheld device. The crackling static of the transmission cleared for a moment, and then a strange, melodic language filled the airwaves, harsh yet flowing, each word clipped yet carrying an odd rhythm. The sound was like nothing Leto had heard before—alien, otherworldly.

The Duke exchanged a glance with Hawat, who remained silent as he listened carefully, his sharp eyes narrowing as he absorbed the unfamiliar cadence. The rest of the soldiers stood quietly, their faces tense with confusion as they waited for Hawat’s assessment.

After a moment, Hawat shook his head, still staring at the ground as if deep in thought. "This… this is unlike anything I've encountered," he said, his voice quiet, as though admitting the strangeness was something unnatural for a Mentat. "I've processed hundreds of languages, dialects, and communication codes—this doesn’t match any known language or communication in the Imperial database."

Leto frowned, feeling the weight of the moment. "Are you saying the language is alien in nature, Thufir?"

Hawat looked up, the cold wind making his aged features appear even more severe. "I can’t say for sure, my Lord," he replied carefully. "But this language isn’t recorded in any of the archives I’ve accessed, not even in obscure historical records. If it's from the known universe, it has evaded detection for centuries. It could be something ancient… or it could be something entirely unknown."

Leto's eyes flickered with unease. "Could it be something the Harkonnens are involved with? Perhaps they’ve found some way to mask their communications."

Hawat's lips pressed into a thin line, calculating. "Possible, but unlikely. Even the Harkonnens don’t have the capability to create an entirely new language that doesn’t register in the databases. They might be brutal, but they’re not that subtle."

Leto folded his arms across his chest, looking out over the icy landscape as the strange transmission continued to play softly in the background. The language—though unrecognizable—held a sense of power, a kind of ancient authority that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. What was happening on Arctis? Who—or what—was behind this?

Before Leto could respond, the communication channel crackled again, this time shifting to a frequency they recognized all too well: the harsh, guttural tones of Harkonnen comms.

A voice came through, cold and authoritative, instantly recognizable. It was Feyd-Rautha, the sadistic nephew of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and heir to the Harkonnen dynasty.

"All units, this is Feyd-Rautha," his voice came through the comms, clear despite the interference. "We’ve detected Atreides forces in the region. Press forward and engage them if they approach. Do not let them interfere with the operation. Prepare artillery in the ravine and set an ambush. I want her captured alive. No mistakes."

Leto’s head snapped toward the comm device. "Her?" he repeated under his breath, exchanging a puzzled glance with Hawat.

Hawat’s keen mind was already racing, analyzing the situation. "Whoever this 'her' is, it seems important enough for Feyd-Rautha to mention specifically. And they’re setting an ambush, expecting her to fall into it."

Leto's face hardened. "Who could they be after? We haven't received any reports of an allied presence here, and no one outside House Atreides should be involved in this sector."

Hawat nodded thoughtfully. "It’s possible the unknown presence we've been detecting is their target. They could be focusing on this other entity—whoever or whatever it is—and they’re trying to capture it alive. This would explain why their attention has been divided between us and this unknown activity."

Leto ran a hand through his hair, his mind racing. Between the mysterious language, cloaked starships, and now a Harkonnen ambush set for an unidentified target, things were growing more complex by the minute. This was no longer just a skirmish for control of Arctis—it was a web of intrigues with more than two players. The unknown ships that had evaded detection, the strange communications in an unrecognizable language, and now the Harkonnen pursuit of someone—or something—they wanted alive.

Leto turned to his men, his voice steady and commanding. "We proceed as planned. We’ll investigate the source of the unknown activity first and gather more intel before engaging the Harkonnen forces. Be prepared for anything—we don’t know who or what we’re dealing with, and we need to avoid getting caught in Feyd-Rautha’s trap."

The men nodded, tightening their grips on their rifles and checking their equipment. Kellor and the other soldiers moved quickly, their faces hard with focus as they prepared to head into the cold unknown.

Leto glanced at Hawat. "Stay sharp, Thufir. If this is something beyond what we understand, we’ll need every ounce of your expertise."

Hawat’s face remained impassive, though his eyes gleamed with the intensity of a man whose mind was already unraveling the strands of a complicated puzzle. "I’ll do what I can, my Lord. But this situation is like nothing I’ve encountered before."

The wind howled as the squadron of Atreides soldiers began their march across the frozen terrain, their black silhouettes cutting through the snow. Somewhere ahead, in the icy ravines and under the gray skies, lay answers to the mysteries that had plagued this mission from the beginning. The Harkonnens were closing in on a target they desperately wanted captured, but Duke Leto knew there was more to this than just a battle over territory.

There were new players in the game—players who wielded unknown languages and technology that defied Imperial understanding.

And whatever forces were converging on Arctis, Leto was determined to uncover the truth.

The cold air bit into his face as they pressed forward, the distant hum of unknown ships hidden in the clouds above, while Feyd-Rautha’s voice still echoed in the back of his mind.

"I want her captured alive."

Who was she?

And what secrets did she hold that could sway the balance of power in this frozen war?

The biting wind of Arctis clawed at Duke Leto’s face as he and his men pressed forward, the ice beneath their feet cracking with each step. The cold felt more oppressive now, not only because of the temperature but because of the growing tension. The mysterious communication, the Harkonnen ambush, and now the unknown forces—it was all a dangerous puzzle, and Leto knew they were walking into something far bigger than a mere territorial skirmish.

They rounded a bend in the frozen terrain when Sergeant Kellor, moving ahead of the group, stopped abruptly and signaled the others to halt. His visor focused on something embedded in the ice just ahead, partially hidden by the snow. Leto stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he approached.

There, carved into the rock face and faintly illuminated by the low light of Arctis’s sun, was a sigil. A three-headed dragon, carved with precision, its wings stretched wide in a majestic, powerful pose. It was unlike any emblem Leto had seen in his years as Duke, and as he studied it, he felt a strange chill run down his spine—something beyond the cold of the planet.

“I don’t recognize it,” Leto said quietly, running his gloved fingers over the smooth carving.

One of the more experienced soldiers who had been trailing behind with the rest of the men, stepped forward to examine the sigil. “Nor do I, my Lord,” he said, his voice thick with caution. “It’s nothing like any House sigil we’ve encountered in the Imperium.”

Thufir Hawat, ever calculating, approached last, his eyes scanning the sigil with intense focus. “It’s not in any of our records,” he confirmed after a moment. “No known House or faction uses this symbol. This is… ancient, perhaps. Or new—something we’ve never encountered before.”

Leto stared at the three-headed dragon for a moment longer, his mind racing. Something about the design felt intentional, as if it held a deeper meaning. He didn’t know what it was, but he could feel its significance like a weight pressing on his chest. The unknown forces they were dealing with—whoever they were—had marked their presence here, and it was clear now that the Harkonnens were aware of them too.

“We press on,” Leto ordered. “Whatever this is, we need to know who or what we’re dealing with.”

As they continued deeper into the icy landscape, the faint sound of distant gunfire reached them. It was intermittent at first, but quickly grew louder as they approached. The sounds of a skirmish—blaster fire, the roar of engines, and the unmistakable clamor of combat—echoed through the frozen ravines.

Before Leto could issue new orders, the comms crackled to life, and Duncan Idaho’s voice came through, tense but composed as ever. “My Lord, we’ve just engaged Harkonnen forces. They’re not willing to negotiate—they’re attacking on sight. They’ve set up an unauthorized military base in this region and appear to be mining something.”

“Mining?” Leto repeated, his eyes narrowing. “Any sign of the unknown presence?”

“None yet,” Duncan replied, his voice carrying a hint of frustration. “So far, it’s just angry Harkonnens. But whatever they’re mining, they’re guarding it fiercely.”

Before Leto could respond, the sound of engines roaring overhead made the entire squad stop and look up. Through the swirling snow, they saw Harkonnen ornithopters streaking across the sky, their dark, beetle-like bodies weaving through the clouds.

But they weren’t alone.

Leto’s eyes widened as he spotted other ornithopters engaged in a furious dogfight with the Harkonnen craft. These new ornithopters were unlike anything he had ever seen before. Their design was sleek, almost organic, with dragon-like wings that flapped in a rhythmic motion, propelling them through the air with an uncanny fluidity. Their hulls were dark, shimmering with strange patterns that shifted in the light, making them difficult to track as they maneuvered with extraordinary agility.

“Those aren’t Harkonnen,” Kellor said, his voice laced with astonishment. “Or any craft from the Imperium. I’ve never seen designs like that—not even from Ix.”

Leto’s mind raced as he watched the alien ornithopters engage the Harkonnen forces with brutal efficiency, their strange, draconic forms weaving through the air as if they were living creatures rather than machines. Blaster fire lit up the sky as the Harkonnen ornithopters desperately tried to keep pace with their attackers, but it was clear the unknown craft were superior in every way.

“What in the name of the Emperor…” Leto muttered under his breath.

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled, and the sounds of combat intensified from the ravine ahead. Without wasting a second, Leto signaled for his men to follow him as they moved to a nearby vantage point overlooking the ravine. What they saw below sent a ripple of shock through the Atreides forces.

The ravine was a chaotic battlefield. Harkonnen soldiers, their black-and-yellow armor standing out against the snow, were locked in brutal combat with unknown forces. These new combatants moved with an elegance and ferocity that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. Clad in dark armor that shimmered with the same shifting patterns as the alien ornithopters, these warriors fought with a combination of energy weapons and what appeared to be swords—sleek, deadly blades that carved through Harkonnen soldiers with ease.

Leto scanned the battlefield, his heart pounding. The unknown forces were smaller in number, but they fought with a precision and intensity that was overwhelming the Harkonnens. And above all, there was something… regal about them, something that reminded him of ancient stories of noble warriors, legends of long-lost Houses.

“What are we seeing?” Kellor whispered, his voice filled with disbelief.

Leto didn’t answer immediately, his eyes locked on the chaos below. He could see the Harkonnen forces were struggling, and the sounds of artillery preparing in the distance confirmed that Feyd-Rautha’s plan was already in motion. They were trying to capture someone—whoever these unknown forces were, they were the target.

“We need to make a decision,” Hawat said, his voice low and urgent. “Do we engage the Harkonnens now, or wait?”

Leto’s mind raced. The Harkonnens were setting up an ambush, preparing to take one of the unknown fighters alive. The mystery of who these new players were gnawed at him, but one thing was clear—they were not Harkonnen allies. And in this frozen war, an enemy of the Harkonnens might just be an ally worth risking.

Leto made his decision, his voice firm and steady. “We aid the unknown forces.”

Kellor nodded, already moving into position. The Atreides soldiers, disciplined and battle-hardened, began their advance, preparing to enter the fray below.

Leto glanced at Hawat, who simply gave a small, knowing nod. Whatever was happening here, the Atreides were about to gamble on a new piece in the deadly game of Houses.

The battle was chaos, pure and unrelenting. Leto and his men charged down into the ravine, their rifles and blasters cutting through the freezing air as they joined the fray alongside the unknown forces. The sound of energy weapons echoed across the icy terrain, mixing with the clatter of steel and the guttural shouts of Harkonnen soldiers. The Atreides elite moved with precision, each strike calculated, their disciplined tactics overwhelming the scattered Harkonnen forces caught in the heat of battle.

But as the skirmish raged on, the sky above began to darken further, the winds of Arctis growing fiercer. A blizzard was rolling in fast, the snow whipping around them in thick, swirling clouds that obscured vision and muted sound. The temperature plummeted, the icy wind slicing through their gear with cruel efficiency.

Leto ducked behind a rocky outcrop, scanning the battlefield. The unknown warriors fought like a well-trained phalanx, their movements fluid, graceful even. They fought hand-to-hand with swords that shimmered with a strange energy, their forms difficult to track in the blizzard, while Harkonnen forces struggled to hold their ground.

Just then, a sudden rumble beneath the ground signaled the arrival of more Harkonnen artillery. Leto’s comms crackled to life as one of his soldiers shouted over the noise, “Heavy Harkonnen reinforcements inbound, my Lord! Artillery moving into position!”

The ground trembled as Harkonnen tanks and artillery rolled into the ravine, their massive cannons swiveling toward the embattled forces. Explosions rocked the frozen ground as heavy artillery shells began to fall, sending plumes of snow and ice into the air. The battlefield had descended into a brutal slugfest, and the freezing winds only made it harder to see, hear, or strategize.

“Push forward!” Leto shouted, his voice barely carrying over the storm. “We can’t let them surround us!”

The Atreides forces continued their advance, but as the blizzard intensified, something strange cut through the howling wind. It was a sound, sharp and high-pitched—a shriek that seemed to come from above, distant at first but growing louder with each passing second.

Leto looked up, straining to see through the swirling snow. His heart pounded in his chest as the shriek pierced the air again, this time closer. He could make out flashes of something—dark shapes moving through the storm, circling overhead. He tried to focus, to make sense of what he was seeing, but the blizzard was too thick.

Then, suddenly, fire exploded from the sky.

Two Harkonnen ornithopters, their engines roaring as they maneuvered through the storm, were struck by something unseen. They burst into flames, spiraling down from the sky, crashing into the icy ground below in fiery explosions. The shockwave knocked several Harkonnen soldiers off their feet, while the remaining ornithopters struggled to evade whatever had attacked them.

Another shriek cut through the storm, followed by the faint whistle of something large slicing through the air. Another Harkonnen ornithopter was struck, its hull exploding in a brilliant flash of fire as it fell in a blazing arc toward the ground. The heat from the explosions briefly warmed the frigid air, casting flickering shadows through the blizzard.

Leto’s eyes narrowed as he tried to discern the source of the attack, but the storm obscured everything. All he could hear were the shrieks and whistles, and then more explosions as Harkonnen forces began to retreat, their voices echoing in panic through the comms.

“They’re retreating!” Gurney’s voice came through, his tone both surprised and urgent. “The Harkonnens are pulling back, my Lord!”

Leto crouched behind the cover of a large boulder, his breath coming out in heavy clouds as the explosions gradually subsided. The sounds of battle were fading, replaced by the howling wind and the eerie quiet that followed. Whatever had attacked the Harkonnens had forced them into retreat.

Suddenly, through the snow, Leto saw a figure approaching, emerging from the storm like a ghost. The figure wore sleek, dark armor that shimmered in the dim light of the fading explosions. As the figure drew closer, Leto could make out the faint glow of a symbol on the armor’s chest—the same three-headed dragon sigil they had seen carved into the ice earlier.

The figure stopped a few paces from Leto and his men, lifting the visor of his helmet to reveal a young man’s face, though most of his features were still obscured by the armor.

“I am Aelor,” the young man said in a calm, confident voice, his eyes sharp and piercing beneath the helmet. “And I believe I owe you thanks for your assistance, Duke Leto of House Atreides.”

Leto blinked in surprise, his breath catching for a moment. The man had spoken his name with certainty, as though he had known exactly who they were all along. “You know who we are?” Leto asked, his voice steady but filled with curiosity.

Aelor smiled faintly beneath his helmet. “Of course. We have been watching your House for some time, though you may not have been aware of it.”

Leto’s eyes narrowed. “And who are you exactly? This planet is under Atreides jurisdiction.”

Aelor’s expression became more amused, the cold wind whipping around him as he crossed his arms. “This planet,” he said slowly, “and all the others you call your domain, once belonged to us. Long ago.”

The cryptic response only deepened Leto’s unease, but before he could press for more answers, Aelor gestured toward the stormy landscape. “This is no place for conversation. There is much to discuss, but not out here in the cold. Our base is not far from here. Follow me, and I will explain everything.”

Aelor spoke a few quick words in the same unknown language Leto and his men had overheard earlier, and moments later, several alien-looking vehicles rolled up through the snow. Their design was unlike anything Leto had seen in the Imperium—sleek and organic, as though they were crafted from living metal. The transport vehicles stopped beside Aelor, their hatches sliding open with a hiss.

Leto hesitated for a moment, his instincts warning him against walking into an unknown situation, but there was no denying that Aelor and his forces had saved them from being overwhelmed by the Harkonnens. Whoever they were, they had power—power that Leto needed to understand.

He turned to his men, his decision made. “We’ll follow them. But stay alert.”

As Leto and his men began to climb into the alien transport vehicles, he activated his comms, reaching out to Duncan and Gurney. “Duncan, Gurney, report.”

Duncan’s voice came through, steady despite the wind. “My Lord, we’ve just secured the area. The Harkonnens have retreated, but they’ve left behind traces of their mining operation. Whatever they were after, they were pulling resources fast.”

“Did you encounter the unknown forces?” Leto asked, his eyes scanning the strange interior of the transport vehicle.

“Negative,” Duncan replied. “We’ve only dealt with Harkonnens so far. No sign of anything else.”

Leto paused, glancing at Aelor, who was giving orders in his own tongue to the other soldiers. “We’ve made contact with an unknown force. I’m following their leader now—he’s taking us to their base. Keep an eye on the Harkonnens and secure our position, but be ready for anything.”

“Understood, my Lord,” Gurney chimed in. “Be careful. Whatever this is, it’s not something we’ve seen before.”

Leto cut the comms and settled into the transport as it hummed to life, gliding smoothly over the snow and ice. As the vehicle moved through the storm, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they had just stumbled upon something far greater than they had ever anticipated.

The transport vehicle hummed steadily as it glided through the blizzard, cutting a path through the thick snow that swirled around them. Inside, the atmosphere was stifling. Duke Leto Atreides sat near the front of the transport, observing the man seated across from him—Aelor, the leader of these unknown forces. Beside Leto, Thufir Hawat sat in silence, his sharp mind undoubtedly racing to process the implications of everything they’d witnessed. A few of Leto’s most trusted men, who had managed to fit into the vehicle, remained quiet but alert, their eyes darting around the strange alien interior.

Leto, his curiosity piqued but tempered by caution, turned his gaze to Aelor. The young man sat with his helmet still on, but through the visor, Leto could see the faint glimmer of his eyes, steady and watchful.

“What are your people doing here?” Leto asked, his voice measured, though his instincts told him there was far more to this situation than a mere skirmish with the Harkonnens.

Aelor leaned back slightly, his armored form relaxed yet commanding. His voice was calm when he replied, though there was an edge to it. “House Harkonnen became aware of our presence some time ago. They’ve been trying to dig out what remains of our underground structures—structures that have been buried for centuries. They seek to take what does not belong to them.”

Leto raised an eyebrow, intrigued but wary. “And what exactly were these underground structures used for? They must be important to draw the Harkonnens’ attention.”

For the first time, Leto saw Aelor hesitate, his eyes briefly widening behind his visor, though he quickly composed himself. There was something deeper here, something that Aelor wasn’t revealing.

“They can’t use what’s inside,” Aelor said after a brief pause, his tone more guarded now. “But it is not theirs to collect. The Harkonnens are digging for something they don’t understand.”

Leto studied Aelor carefully, but before he could press further, Hawat leaned forward, his cold, analytical voice breaking the silence. “We intercepted Harkonnen communications before we engaged them. Feyd-Rautha mentioned they were after someone—her specifically. Who is this person they’re so desperate to capture?”

Aelor’s gaze shifted to Hawat, and this time, there was no hesitation. “They’re after my sister,” he said plainly, his voice carrying a note of protectiveness. “She was the one who disrupted their operations. The Harkonnens know they can’t use what’s in the structures, but they believe capturing her will give them leverage.”

Leto exchanged a glance with Hawat, their minds both running through the implications. The Harkonnens were desperate—enough to launch an all-out assault to capture one person. Whatever was buried in those ancient structures, it was important enough for them to risk everything.

Before Leto could ask more, the transport began to slow, and Aelor’s voice cut through the silence. “We’ve arrived.”

The vehicle came to a stop, and as the doors slid open, a blast of cold air greeted them. Leto and his men stepped out into a base unlike anything they had ever seen. The structures were sleek, dark, and seamless, built with a design far more advanced than anything in the Imperium. But what struck Leto most was the banners that hung from the tall spires around the base—banners bearing the three-headed dragon symbol he had seen carved into the ice earlier.

“This way,” Aelor said, gesturing for them to follow.

As they moved deeper into the base, Leto couldn’t help but notice how the design felt both familiar and alien. There was an elegance to the architecture, a flowing, organic quality that reminded him of ancient stories from his studies as a boy.

They entered the central structure, and Aelor led them into a large command center. Inside, a team of soldiers worked at strange, holographic consoles, their faces hidden by sleek helmets. A massive map of the surrounding area was projected above them, showing the positions of both Harkonnen and unknown forces.

Aelor turned to face Leto and his men, and with a quiet hiss, he removed his helmet. The sight of his features caught Leto off guard. Aelor was young—his face regal, with high cheekbones and silver-blond hair that fell in soft waves around his shoulders. His eyes, the same piercing violet that Leto had only seen in old records, glowed faintly in the dim light of the command center.

For a brief moment, Leto took a step back, his heart racing as a flood of recognition washed over him. The sight of Aelor’s face—his silver hair, his violet eyes, the unmistakable grace of his movements—triggered a memory long buried in the depths of Leto’s mind.

“Welcome, Duke Leto,” Aelor said, his voice now softer, more formal. “To House Targaryen’s command center.”

The words struck Leto like a blow. House Targaryen. The name sent a shockwave through his thoughts, dragging him back to his youth, to the old histories he had studied in the Atreides archives. He had read of House Targaryen—once a powerful dynasty, one of the most feared and revered Houses in the galaxy, known for their dragons and their near-mythical strength. But they had been eradicated—wiped out thousands of years ago in a war that had shaped the balance of power in the galaxy for millennia.

Yet here they were. Alive. And not just alive, but powerful—strong enough to face off against the Harkonnens with technology far beyond anything Leto had ever seen.

Leto felt a surge of disbelief as the implications of what he was witnessing set in. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could form words, a sharp voice cut through his thoughts.

“Duke Leto,” Hawat said, stepping forward, his voice a warning. “Stay focused.”

Leto blinked, his mind snapping back to the present. He glanced at Hawat, who was watching the situation with the same sharpness as ever, though Leto could see the tension in the Mentat’s eyes. This was no ordinary encounter. Whatever House Targaryen had been in the past, they were a force to be reckoned with now.

Aelor, watching Leto carefully, smiled faintly. “I see you recognize the name. Good. It saves us some time. There is much to discuss, Duke Leto, and many answers I’m sure you seek. But for now, we must prepare. The Harkonnens won’t stop their pursuit of my sister. And if they succeed, they may uncover things that should remain buried.”

Leto, still processing the magnitude of what was happening, nodded slowly. His thoughts raced, but there was one question at the forefront of his mind.

“What do you intend to do?” Leto asked.

Aelor’s violet eyes gleamed with determination. “What we have always done, Duke. Protect what is ours. And in the process, perhaps we can show you that this galaxy is not as small as you once believed.”

The warning in his words hung heavy in the air, and Leto realized with certainty: whatever lay ahead, the fate of House Atreides—and perhaps the entire galaxy—was about to change.

- A/N: The timeline of these events will be made clear as the story expands. Everything written here has a purpose for future events that will happen.

[blackwood4stucky]

This is giving Dune for me!! 🥹

[synkverv]

(DUNE RHAENICENT AU) During the long rule of the tyrant, Leto II Atreides, a leader emerges from the outskirts of the known galaxy. Rhaenyra, daughter of Viserys, has long been trained to take the planet Arrakis to sever the God-Emperor's supply of spice and his connection to Shai Hulud. With her Bene Gesserit concubine, Alicent of the High Tower, she marches against Leto.

Rhaenyra: I will tame Arrakis and I will end the damned Atreides' reign of tyranny. Who is one man to decide all our fates? My father wished to see us all free of that despot, and it's my destiny. Alicent: The universe can only know peace with you at the helm, Rhaenyra, and the power of the Bene Gesserit behind you. I believe this, I know this.

[destinymoore05]

Bene Gesserit! Harleen Quinzel AU moodboard

Hi, I haven’t posted in a while, I’m alive 👍🏻

🏷️: @psycheetamore

[crazyprompts4asoiafdune]

After Kralizec AU

The Bene Gesserit sisterhood bring back Irulan Corrino, to write the history of the Famine Times, the Scattering and the fight against the machines. She gets to interview everyone involved in the final conflict and ask some tough questions. Would love to have her run into Paul on Arrakis--"Of All The Gin Joints In All The Towns In All The World, She Walks Into Mine."

[seresinhangmanjake]

Bonded

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x reader

Summary: You were a servant and companion to Paul Ateides, but the moment you met Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, you knew the universe had Bonded you to another. 

Notes/Warnings: Soulmate AU. Reader x Feyd/Paul x reader. Feyd is soft boy who wants what is his. Smutty-ish (18+). There’s a slight coercive essence that makes Paul a little iffy. Maybe that’s just me, though.

Words: 1670

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

Paul Atreides owned you in every way—that much you knew. With eyes, and hands, and cock, he claimed you; a claiming that had been exercised as often as he desired from the day you turned eighteen. For years, there had been anticipation leading up to the moment he took you as his own—stares and lasting touches and a soft voice directed toward the servant girl of the House Atreides, promising the inevitable.

He never forced you. Prior to your first night with him, those looks, the sweetly whispered words, the gentle brushes of his skin against yours had eased you into the idea of being with him, so when the time came, you were ready. You had let him inside of you; allowed the sensation to take over and guide you. You had submitted. And after years of the same, you were confident in your knowledge of how bodies joined and emotions tangled. You knew what it felt like to want a man. You understood desire and affection, neediness and the pleasure of giving in. And you would’ve bet your sanity that Paul Atreides was the height of what the world offered. 

But then you saw him, and the universe shifted. Want and desire paled to utter desperation. Simple neediness was weak against all-consuming necessity. A body that turned warm from one’s touch became engulfed in flame at the mere imagining of another’s. Locked gazes were an instant connection, conveying words too dangerous to speak aloud in the company of the House you served. 

You, you thought, as you knew he did. Whatever you are, you are mine. 

Still not a word was spoken to one another, and yet you saw everything; your path splayed before you. You didn’t need voices to confirm it. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who had stepped foot into the House Atreides in an attempt at peace, whose eyes had immediately snapped to the servant girl standing in the corner awaiting orders, belonged to you. 

When the Atreides left the main hall with the promise you would show their guest to his quarters, you did exactly that, but not without great difficulty. You led the way, your body prickling with tingles, your breath shallow, your heart thumping, your mind running wild. As if under Bene Gesserit influence, memories of long nights altered, replacing Paul with the man following behind you. Internally, you pleaded for the touch of pale hands. 

Once you reached the room, seconds dawdled. He stared at you from his side of the doorway. You stared just the same, feeling a blush settle onto your cheeks. 

And then he lunged for you. An arm curled around your waist and he pulled you inside, trapping your body between the wall of his chest and the door before planting his mouth on yours. 

You knew then that you knew nothing. Want, desire, need, affection—introductory emotions; youthful seeds capable of growing into a form you did not realize existed. A form beautiful, alluring, mature, greedy for the sun. And that’s what Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen instantly became—the sun; the rays of him peeling back the clouds that were Paul Atreides. 

Clothes melted from bodies. Skin met skin. He lifted you into his arms and your legs wrapped around his hips as he carried you to the bed. When he crawled on top of you and buried himself inside of you, that was it. You couldn’t get enough of him—the na-Baron whose name was known by all, and at the same time was a stranger to you.

Paul did not enter your head. Nothing about what he might think or say or do could rip you away from where you were, under another man, your thighs spread open for him. Only after, did you consider what you’d done, but you quickly came to the conclusion that you did not regret it. You did not regret a single breath or moan or kiss that you gave to Feyd. What fell from your lips did so effortlessly, as if those sounds and caresses already belonged to him and he’d only just come to reclaim what was his. 

Another life, you decided. In another life this man was yours. 

In this one, however, nothing was yours. You owned nothing as you were owned. And soon Paul would come looking for what was rightfully his. 

When you rose from the confines of Feyd’s embrace, his fingers locked around your wrist. “You’re not going,” he said. 

“I have to.”

“No.”

You glanced at the heap of your clothes on the floor. You’d been gone too long. Night was rapidly approaching. You jerked yourself free to go gather your discarded dress, and as you slid the material up your body and slipped your arms into the sleeves, he stood from the bed. Toned and bare and intimidating, he came toward you and cupped your cheeks. 

“Stay,” he demanded.

You bit your lip. You were tempted. Terribly tempted. But what would staying afford you? If Paul found you with his guest—whose relationship with him was much too tenuous—you would face punishment, in some manner or other.

“I have no choice,” you told him as you stepped out of his reach. 

“Then come back.”

With a sigh, you ran your hand through your hair. Your eyes widened. Your pin—it was gone. Paul had made you wear that pin to keep your hair back. Can’t have anything blocking that lovely face, can we, he’d said, and here you lost the damn thing. 

Your heart raced. Feyd watched with a knitted brow as you scanned the floor and fell to your knees, ducking under the bed before rustling through the sheets. Your sweat turned to a chill when the silver accessory revealed itself. “It's–” you started, quickly twisting your hair into a bun. “It’s not possible.”

As you sped past him toward the door, he grabbed your upper arm. “You sleep at night, don't you?” he said. “Sleep here.”

You paused. The tension in your shoulders momentarily eased. There was possession in his eyes, in his grip on your flesh, and though a rational piece of your mind told you it was insane to feel such an emotion after knowing this man for mere hours, the rest of you knew it was right. 

“What's your name?” he asked. When you told him, he repeated it. “Swear to come back.”

Going against your every instinct, you shook your head and said, “I can’t.” 

A flash of pain crossed his irises, but eventually, he released you. 

—

You noticed first that Paul didn’t feel the same. You’d enjoyed how he felt before, but after Feyd, your gut churned, and that unpleasantness spread to every inch of your body. Perhaps you should’ve told Paul what you’d done with Giedi Prime’s na-Baron. There was still time to do so. It wouldn’t save you from punishment, but there was potential that in his disgust you would be granted a break from warming his bed. 

By the time Paul’s breaths evened, you had already weighed the risks and made up your mind. If you were to tell him tomorrow, then you would enjoy your final night of peace. You sneaked out from under the sheets and tiptoed into the hall. He wouldn’t notice. He never woke in the night and you were always gone by the time the sun rose, set about doing your morning duties. 

Feyd opened the door after a single round of knocks, his eyes raking up and down your chemise-clad body as he dragged you inside. It was better than the first time—kisses more intense; thrusts harder, deeper, to see what you could take—and you wondered if that was how it was meant to work; if it was meant to consume a little more so that with each coming together, you would be increasingly unwilling to let one another go. 

“What is this?” you whispered once satiated, your body tucked into him with your hand resting over his heart. 

“We both know,” he said. And he was correct. You did know, whether or not you were ready to fully admit it. 

Among all people—regardless of whatever planet, religion, or faction they belonged to—it was seldom discussed. The Bond, as they called it. An inexplicable tethering of souls. Once a much more common occurrence, it became so rare it bordered on myth, and while it could be wonderful, it was widely known to cause trouble. 

The Bond could ruin lives, destroy foundations, topple empires. But for those blinded by their need to have the one they Bonded with by their side, crossing boundaries was often executed without hesitancy, and the consequences deemed trivial.

“I'll take you with me,” Feyd continued. “You're a servant. You won't be missed.”

You stiffened. Won’t be missed. If you thought there was a deity who might listen, you would’ve prayed for that to be true. Following a hard swallow, you said, “You underestimate my role. And you’d be risking your purpose of being here.”

Feyd went silent, leaving the sound of your breaths to fill the space. A minute passed, or an hour; you could not tell. He sighed heavily through his nose, then in a tone laced with irritation, he said, “You’re his?”

Reluctantly, you nodded. His arm tightened around your shoulders, and your nerves wiggled under your skin at the prospect of what the new information might have him do. Leave you behind? Yes, probably. 

Though unusual, historically some people had decided not to be tied to their Bonded for eternity. One half would be heartbroken while the other would remain committed to their pre-Bonded priorities. There were spouses who had stayed married even after discovering their Bond to another. There were Lords who had refused to jeopardize their power, and so, rejected their Bonded. There were Bonded who had not cared for the universe’s interference in their lives, who refused to acknowledge the concept of the Bond altogether. And there would be the na-Baron of Giedi Prime, whose uncle had sent him on a mission and would not accept failure, no matter the temptation.

You were nearly convinced that was to be your fate. But then he said, “No. You don’t belong to him anymore.” 

Your eyes flicked up to meet a stunning blue, and his gaze confirmed what you’d been desperate for from the moment you first saw him. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had claimed you in body, heart, and soul, and regardless of what was to come, you knew he intended to keep what was his—every bit of you. 

“You are mine,” he said.

“He’ll fight you.”

Feyd hummed. His lips quirked in one corner, then he pressed a kiss between your worried brows. “So be it,” he whispered.

[sansaorgana]

— STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — He's a psychotic killing machine and you're a shy and innocent lady. You have nothing in common except for the fact your bloodlines have been manipulated for centuries to create a match. And you seem to be destined to be together.

REQUEST — (1) // (2) // (3)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I don't write children!Readers unless it's for the retrospections and memories. That's why I combined all these requests into one fic. Some parts of the requests didn't make it but I felt like it was already getting long 🙈 I included the trope of Feyd and Reader being destined to be together – some sort of Soulmates AU, I guess? ✨

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, spiders, mentions of Baron Harkonnen abusing Feyd, SMUT, fingering, oral, hints of innocence kink, The Harpies being a bit non-consensual

WORD COUNT — 7,500

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

Giedi Prime was surely a scary and intimidating place for a twelve years old girl. The lack of colour and friendly faces made you shiver and anxiously cling to your father’s hand. You couldn’t understand why he had insisted on you accompanying him on this official state visit for the meeting with Baron Harkonnen. He would never want to take you with him to much more pleasant places. You were too young to understand the hidden agenda, the Bene Gesserit scheming – whose plans had been destroyed by Lady Jessica giving birth to a son instead of a daughter. They needed a new match for the young na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, The Baron’s nephew. After years of searching and studying many possibilities, they had decided to create a union between your House and The Harkonnens. Your father was more than happy – it was an honour to bond with such a powerful family. You were from one of the planets of a lesser importance. That was the reason for The Baron’s distrust towards the plan. He would rather see his nephew marrying a great lady, perhaps even an Imperial Princess.

While he talked to your father, you were left alone with no one but one guard in an empty room. You were sitting on a black couch and looking with awe at the portraits on the walls. All men looked the same on them – big, bald, hairless and scary. They fascinated you as much as they intimidated you.

After a while, the doors leading to the corridor opened and you startled at the sight of a boy more-less your age entering confidently with a contemptuous look upon his face. He looked like all The Harkonnens – sickly and scary. He was wearing clothes you had only seen on gladiators and warriors before but it looked disturbing on a body so skinny and small, even though he was tall for his age. There was a splash of blood upon his face and it made you gasp and take a step back. He smirked at you.

“So, that’s you? Disappointing,” he commented harshly as you swallowed thickly.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” You looked nervously at the guard but he remained stoic.

“I’m Feyd,” he introduced himself. “My training has been interrupted and I’ve been told to meet you for whatever reason. Haven’t expected such a scared, little bunny,” he sneered and you spotted his teeth were black. They didn’t look rotten, though.

“What happened to your teeth?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“My Uncle made the medics paint them black to intimidate my enemies,” he answered, proudly.

“What kind of enemies might a twelve year old have?” You asked, surprised.

You had no enemies. Your life was of a typical spoiled young lady – full of mother’s kisses, father’s embraces, candies, ponies and maids braiding your hair in the evening while telling you tales of handsome and brave prince charmings. You couldn't imagine that it was different for other people.

“You’re stupid,” Feyd pointed out and you shut your mouth, feeling hurt at his words as tears pricked your eyes. He approached you and you took a step back, scared of him. “Don’t cry,” he tilted his head at the sight of your wet eyes. “Has no one ever told you that you were stupid?” Now it was his time to be surprised and you shook your head. “Do you want to see something?” He proposed as his eyes sparkled.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, genuinely.

“I will protect you,” he offered his pale hand and you looked at it with fear in your eyes.

“I am scared of you,” you raised your eyes to lay them on his face again while you explained.

“Good,” he nodded with a chuckle. “But I’d get in trouble if something happened to you. You are the daughter of my uncle’s guest. Come,” he encouraged.

Your status gave you courage as your curiosity only fueled your desire to actually follow him. Just like the portraits on these walls – he was as intimidating as fascinating to you. Perhaps because you had never before met such a boy.

You took his cold hand and a shiver went down your spine. For a short while, you thought you would faint as an odd feeling filled your small body. A familiar warmth that you only felt when you were back home, in your bed, feeling safe and sound with the nanny or your mother caressing your head to help you sleep. Like he was home. But he couldn’t be. You had never met him and he was scary. 

“Have you felt that, too?” You gasped.

“No,” Feyd lied. “Come,” he dragged you behind him and the guard opened the doors in front of you.

Feyd took you down the corridor and led you downstairs to some sort of dungeons beneath the fortress. You were starting to have a bad feeling about it but something deep inside you made you trust that odd boy. Without understanding it yet, you were starting to realise he was the one who had been meant for you from the day you were born. There was some connection between your bloodlines that was drawing you towards each other.

You found yourself in an old, dark and damp room. It smelt of something rotten and it was full of spiderwebs.

“What is this place? It’s disgusting,” you pointed out as you winced. Feyd let go of your hand and sneered at you.

“Life is unpleasant. The sooner you learn that, the better,” he pointed out and suddenly, he reached for a short knife by his waist you had not noticed before. You yelped at the sight, convinced he had only dragged you there to kill you.

“Don’t be silly, I won’t hurt you,” he rolled his eyes and you nodded, unsurely. “Do you want to see me kill something?” He smirked playfully at you.

It felt wrong and you felt the anxiety rising in your abdomen when you realised you’d get in trouble for that. On the other hand, you did want to see him kill something. It was curiosity mixed with excitement to witness something forbidden and something you had been sheltered from.

“Yes,” you nodded, eagerly. He was a little surprised at your reaction but he only smiled.

Feyd beckoned you over by waving his hand and you followed him, quietly. Then you gasped and covered your mouth as you gagged out of disgust at the sight of a big, fat spider in the corner of the room. It was huge – nearly as big as you were. But it was also fat and slow. The legs were long and thin, furry black sticks.

“I found it a few days ago,” Feyd told you as he looked at your disgusted face. “Gross, isn’t she?”

You nodded.

“She reminds me of my uncle,” Feyd explained with hatred in his voice. “Do you see those small spiders on the ground?” He asked and you looked down. It was full of smaller spiders but they were all laying there dead. “She feeds off of her own children.”

You took a step back, utterly disgusted and sick. Feyd snorted at you and turned his back on you to gut the big, black spider. You watched with terror how much satisfaction it was giving him. He struck the monstrosity so many times that you lost count. He kept striking when it was already laying there dead.

“That’s enough,” you whispered and Feyd froze before turning around to face you. There was pure murder in his eyes and when he walked towards you with a knife in his hand, you were sure he would kill you now, too.

You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes, expecting the worst. But when you felt his breath on your face, you heard him hiding the knife away.

“Stupid little bunny,” he told you and you opened your eyes, hesitantly. He was staring at you as if he was studying your face.

The door opened suddenly and a few guards entered, sighing out of relief. Your father was standing behind them, scared. Baron Harkonnen was there as well, floating ominously.

“There you are!” He raised his voice and you spotted that all Feyd’s confidence was gone in a second. The boy looked down and blushed. “I’ve told you to behave. Why are you scaring Lady (Y/N)?!”

You turned around to face The Baron, hiding his nephew’s from his sight with your small body.

“He did not scare me, my Lord,” you assured with a slight bow of your head. “I wanted Feyd-Rautha to show me around,” you lied to protect him.

You had a feeling his uncle would punish him and he looked like a man you would never want a punishment from.

“She’s naive,” your father tried to save the situation. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he reminded you and grabbed you by your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Forgive my daughter, my Lord Baron.”

“She is forgiven,” the big man smirked viciously before lying his eyes on his nephew. “The boy, however, is not.”

You wanted to protest but your father gave you a stern look and announced it was time for you to leave now. So, you obeyed and walked away, following the guard leading you out of the corridor. But you kept looking behind, trying to see Feyd-Rautha for the last time.

“Will I see him again?” You asked your father, looking up.

“Who?”

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you explained and your father sighed as he looked down at you.

“You will in eight years,” he announced. “You will become his wife.”

Those eight years you had not wasted a day, practising for your new role every day. Learning all about The Harkonnens; their culture, their history, their customs and war strategies. You knew that their nobility would not give you an easy time for being a Lady of the lesser house. You wanted to prove your worth with knowledge.

Your wisdom was your only weapon because you lacked confidence nor experience in nearly anything. Sheltered your whole life, surrounded by books and teachers, you were shy and innocent. The spider incident on Giedi Prime still remained your only sin – that no one except your husband-to-be possessed the knowledge of.

You had not been in touch with him at all but the stories had reached you about his nature and his victories in the gladiator arena. You believed them all because your short encounter had been enough to give you an idea about what kind of man he would become. You had never protested whenever your marriage was mentioned but you felt anxious. You didn’t belong on Giedi Prime, you didn’t fit in the world of death and violence.

Tested by Gom Jabbar, you nearly failed the test. The scary Reverend Mother gave your mother a look of disapproval. On the very next day you were shipped to Giedi Prime for your wedding, though. You had survived the trial and only that mattered – the long-planned scheming couldn’t be sabotaged.

On the day of your arrival, you were led with your parents to a room you had remembered from your last visit. There was the same black couch and the same portraits on the wall – only now there was one more than before. The last one in line, of a young man with handsome facial features, signed with your betrothed’s name. You opened your mouth slightly as you kept staring at it. He was a young and handsome na-baron; a strong warrior surrounded by men and women who admired him. You could only imagine how inconvenient a marriage had to be for him. Especially to an uninteresting and unimportant woman like you.

The doors opened and you turned around to see him in real life as he entered the room in black gladiator gear. He looked better than in the portrait – raw and magnetic, dangerous. Your parents stiffened at the sight of him and they both bowed their heads.

“Lord Na-Baron,” your father greeted him. “We have delivered our daughter to you, according to the agreement,” he explained. “We have hoped to be greeted by your uncle The Baron.”

“He’s busy,” Feyd interrupted your father in a low and raspy voice that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were only fixated on you – curious and mocking. You bowed down slightly as well, not wanting to disrespect him.

“Y-yes, of course, my Lord…” your father took a step back.

“You’re grown now,” Feyd-Rautha stood in front of you with a smirk and you took a deep, shaky breath in.

“So are you, my Lord Na-Baron,” you nodded.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Feyd turned around to give your father a contemptuous look. “A timid little bunny. But it’s no surprise since she’s been raised by a coward and bootlicker like you.”

“My daughter is of many qualities, my Lord, I can assure you…” your father panicked.

“A wife only needs one quality,” Feyd sneered at him as your blood ran cold at his words. “Show them to their rooms,” he told the guards and left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve made deals with these people,” your mother snapped angrily at your father who was standing there with his head kept low, ashamed.

But it was not like he had any saying in this. It was the plan of the Bene Gesserit. You were nothing but pawns in it. You tried to remember that Feyd-Rautha was a pawn, too.

After the scary and bloody wedding party, you were taken to your husband’s bedroom where you were supposed to be prepared for the wedding night. However, it was not the maids waiting for you there. Three bald Harkonnen women were sitting on your husband’s bed and smirking at you, showing off their sharp teeth. They were dressed in black leather and clinging to each other as if they were one body instead of three.

“We will prepare her for the Master,” one of them told the servants who had taken you there. You looked at them with panic and they only looked back with guilt and compassion before walking out as quickly as possible, leaving you alone with the scary snake-like creatures.

They were circling around you, sniffing you and chuckling contemptuously. You didn’t understand anything but you tried to bravely keep still and endure. Then, one of them approached you and licked a fat stripe across your cheek. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Oh-so-innocent,” she commented. “Have you ever pleased a man?” She asked.

You were terrified and embarrassed, you didn’t know what to do.

“N-no, my Lady,” you stuttered and nodded your head, unsure how to address her.

They all found it amusing as they laughed.

“My Lady, she calls me. I might like this one,” the woman caressed your hair with some sort of perverted delicacy that made you feel even more scared. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands turned cold and sweaty. “I’m not a lady, na-baroness. I am your husband’s whore,” she informed you and you nodded again, hesitantly. “We are his favourite pets. You see… Our Master likes perversion,” her hands landed on your hips as she pulled you closer to her body. “We will teach you how to please him and how to take him.”

“He’s a lot to take,” another woman stood behind you and grabbed your breasts from behind.

“W-won’t he mind, my husband?” You swallowed thickly.

“Not at all,” the third one giggled. “He always shares his toys.”

“Not this one,” the doors opened as Feyd-Rautha entered the room. He glanced at the women angrily and they immediately let go of you and moved away. “She is not a toy, she is your na-baroness. What are you doing here?” He snapped. “Have I not forbidden you from entering this room from now on?”

“Oh, Master…” one of them approached him to put her arms around his neck but he pushed her away.

“Get out,” he hissed and they ran away.

When the doors closed behind them, Feyd looked at you and sighed before approaching you and caressing your cheek.

“You alright, wife?” He asked.

“Y-yes, thank you,” you nodded and flinched at the feeling of his cold fingers brushing your cheek. An odd and out-of-place warmth started to fill you like all those years ago. It made him startled, too, and eventually he took a step back.

“You must be exhausted,” he only said as he looked away, awkwardly. “We can perform our duties in the morning.”

“Th-thank you,” you nodded. “I’ll go take a shower now…”

Feyd pointed at the doors leading to the bathroom and that was all for that night. When you came back to his bedroom, he was already gone. You went to sleep without him, confused by his behaviour.

Baron Harkonnen watched carefully with his own eyes and through the eyes of his servants. He observed and he listened – nothing could ever escape him. But the new na-baroness was as easy to read as a book. When she joined him and Count Rabban by the breakfast table, she didn’t wince while sitting, which was an obvious sign she had not been claimed by Feyd the previous night. The Baron smirked when the new na-baroness began to eat the meal, keeping her timid gaze down, terrified of her surroundings.

If Feyd-Rautha refused to be her friend, The Baron would surely find her a purpose. She would be an easy tool to keep Feyd in place. A silent, obedient shadow following her husband everywhere. A perfect spy.

“Na-Baroness,” he addressed her and she flinched before looking up, scared. “I would like you to join the council after the meal. Your husband rarely takes part in them since he is too busy training but now you are an extension of him,” The Baron forced a smile and she nodded. “I’ve been told by your father you are well-trained in Harkonnen history and customs.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” she bowed her head.

“I know that Feyd-Rautha is not an easy man to be around,” The Baron continued as Rabban raised his head, curious about his uncle’s scheming plan. “He’s been like this ever since he was a child. I’ve been trying to temper him.”

“I remember,” the young woman whispered.

“You can tell me about anything that is worrying you,” The Baron assured her and she smiled genuinely. “Has he hurt you?” He squinted his eyes, knowing the answer already but wanting to test her honesty.

“No, my Lord. Feyd-Rautha did not spend the night with me at all,” she answered and he nodded as Rabban sneered.

“You have to forgive him, my Lady. He prefers other… forms of entertainment,” The Baron explained softly.

“I believe I have met them, my Baron,” the woman looked down.

“Most likely, yes. They don’t like to share him,” The Baron chuckled.

“But the heir…”

“Do not worry about the heir. You are both still young, you have time. There is no need to hurry anything. Take your time to adjust on Giedi Prime first,” The Baron tried to calm her down and she looked up with so much gratitude in her eyes that he was sure he had succeeded. She was his agent now.

To your own surprise, you found new friends in your husband’s family – his uncle and brother – but not him. Feyd-Rautha was mostly avoiding you and a few attempts to claim you were ending in a fiasco. You couldn’t understand why he would pull away suddenly and leave you without a word or fail to get hard enough no matter how long his touch lingered upon your body. It made you feel as if you were lacking, because you knew for sure he had no problems of this sort with his concubines. They often bragged to you about it. They had offered to help you to excite him and you nearly agreed to that but Feyd hated to see you around them. He snapped whenever he caught you talking to them or them approaching you.

He hated to see you around his uncle and brother, too. He had been warning you about them but it felt cruel to do so. Did he want you to not have any companionship at all? To be sad and lonely and miserable all your days?

You weren’t appreciated in marriage but you were appreciated as a part of this family – representing the na-baronship during the council meetings with your decisions and advice. The Baron seemed to be pleased with you and Count Rabban had stopped to make fun of you over time. Still waters run deep, The Baron would often say about you as your cheeks heated up and eyes sparkled. Perhaps all the years of studying the customs and tradition of this House would not be useful in your marriage but they seemed to be useful when it came to your political presence.

It still bothered you that Feyd-Rautha was acting so weirdly towards you. You remembered the boy he had been eight years earlier. You had never feared this union because you had been sure there was some sort of bond now between you two, some sort of connection. Perhaps you had been wrong.

It was right after one of Feyd’s failed attempts to claim you, when he left you half-naked in bed with tears pricking your eyes. He walked away and most likely went to his concubines as you fixed yourself and left the room, too, not wanting to remain in the chambers filled with the smell of embarrassment and humiliation anymore. You nearly crashed with your brother-in-law walking down the corridor.

“My Lady,” Rabban nodded at you. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes,” you answered, trying not to show your nervousness. There was no need for him to know the details about the problems your marriage was facing.

“I was just looking for you,” he confessed and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Tomorrow, my uncle wants me to lead the council meeting only for the most important members of the court. It’s about a matter of a very high importance and it’s confidential,” he whispered. “I hoped you would join me. Without my uncle there, I will be the only one representing our family.”

“But tomorrow Feyd has his fight. I am expected to be in the stands,” you looked up at him.

“Uncle will be there. You are more needed here, (Y/N),” Rabban tried to convince you. You could see his hands were a little shaky – he was stressed about the responsibility placed upon his shoulders by his uncle. “It’s not like Feyd will even notice your absence,” he added.

You bit on your lower lip. He was right.

“Alright, I’ll join you in the council,” you nodded your head. “Our state affairs are much more important than some fixed gladiator fight anyway.”

The servants’ slim fingers were applying the black paint upon Feyd-Rautha’s body as he observed his three harpies from the corner of his eye. They were giggling between each other and some of the words reached his sensitive ears.

“...naive…”

“Silly little thing.”

“...taste her heart…”

“What are you talking about, pets?” Feyd turned around to face them as he asked and they went silent.

“Nothing important, Master,” the bravest of them all answered eventually.

“I have a feeling you’re whispering about my wife,” Feyd pointed out.

“As I said, nothing important,” she chuckled and the rest giggled. Feyd squinted his eyes and approached them with a clenched jaw and an angry expression on his face. When he grabbed her by the chin, they stopped laughing.

“You are forbidden to even think of her,” he hissed out. “You’re not worthy of that.”

“M-Master…” She trembled as she pleaded for his softness. Her companions hid behind her and observed him carefully. “She doesn’t even know how to please you, Master.”

Feyd’s hand dropped down and the squeeze tightened around the woman’s neck. He watched her struggle to catch a breath for some time as he observed with a smirk. Eventually, he let go of her.

“My wife belongs to a different realm than you,” he stated. “She is not to be discussed, looked at, thought of… Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Master,” they all nodded, obediently.

“Good,” he smiled and went back to the servant girls.

“You might be interested in the gossip, though, na-baron,” one of the concubines whispered. “We are your eyes and ears…”

Feyd pretended not to be intrigued although he was. He didn’t react, hoping she would say more. And so she did.

“Your uncle keeps the young na-baroness close. The rumour has it he wants to make her one of his agents. And she is slowly taking your place during the councils. Count Rabban is his Plan B if you fail. Then she will be given to him.”

“I’m sure Rabban won’t have a problem with fucking her,” the bravest concubine added as if his punishment had not worked at all. Because it didn’t. She loved his punishments. “Her innocence will only make him more eager. He will tear her apart.”

“Shut up!” Feyd growled, making the servant girls take a few steps back as he turned around to face the girl with a big mouth. “Let me remind you that I don’t need your tongue to fuck you,” he sneered. “Your sisters are better at using their tongues than you anyway.”

The woman looked down and he was informed that he was about to enter the arena in five minutes so he went back to putting the gear on, furiously clutching to his blades. He was grateful to his concubine for fueling his anger so much – he wanted to make good use of it in the arena.

But when he approached the tower with his uncle’s balcony to bow down, he spotted that his wife was not there. Suddenly, the fight made no sense to him at all. What was the point of putting on a show, what was the point of killing with grace when she could not watch?

He had been waiting eight years for her to come back. The timid little bunny girl that made him feel so warm inside. That made him feel like home. Nothing had ever made him feel this way. They were destined for each other. Now, when she was by his side, he had no idea what to do. He had been training his body for years to impress her and be able to protect her but nothing was working out the way he had planned. She was slipping away.

She was slipping away because of his uncle’s scheming and because Feyd-Rautha himself had no idea how to approach a creature so pure and innocent as this woman. If anything in this world was still able to save his rotten soul, it was her. But maybe he had been naive to think so. He was beyond saving.

He didn’t give the audience a show on that day. The fights were quick and swift. No playing with his victims, no tormenting. Just a kill after kill to finish it as fast as possible. And no bowing down at the end. He just walked out of the arena, still clutching his fists on the blood-dripping blades. He walked past the guards and servants, not wanting to change or bathe – he wanted one thing only. To find his wife.

The sounds of the cheering audience were becoming more and more quiet. They waited for him to walk back and bow down, raising his knife in the sign of victory. He had no plans in doing so. He would not kneel in front of his uncle. Not when his wife was not beside him, because it was her he had been kneeling for. Not Baron Harkonnen.

The council was over now but you stayed inside the conference room with Count Rabban to discuss what had been decided and what to tell his uncle. You were staring at the maps of Arrakis and wondering whether the Emperor’s assurances of help were trustworthy.

“What I’m saying is… If he is so willing to get rid of The Atreides just because he considers them to be dangerous… He might do the same to us one day. We are a real danger to him way more than any Atreides is,” you pointed out.

“Especially now when we have knowledge that can turn other leaders against him and…” Rabban’s words were interrupted by the heavy black doors opening rapidly. You flinched and instinctively hid behind your brother-in-law’s broad shoulders.

It was Feyd-Rautha himself walking inside with an angry look on his face. Wearing his gladiator gear stained with fresh blood and still wielding two bloody swords. He looked ferocious as his cold eyes searched for you. When he spotted you behind his brother, his jaw clenched and so did his fists on the handles of the blades.

“What is going on here?” He barked as you and Rabban looked at each other, questioningly.

“Husband,” you tried to be brave as you took a step ahead to approach him very carefully. “I see you’re finished now. I assume you’ve won.”

“(Y/N), wait,” Rabban grabbed your sleeve to keep you in place. He didn’t want you near Feyd in such a state. But Feyd didn’t like his brother’s gesture.

“Let her go, brother,” he snapped. “She is my wife and she will approach me if she wishes. I would never lay my hand on her,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

You felt Rabban’s fingers letting go of the fabric of your dress and you walked up to Feyd. Something inside you was telling you that he needed you at that moment. Perhaps that was the intuition of a wife.

“Oh, we all know that you don’t lay your hand on her at all, brother,” Rabban snorted at him.

You watched in terror how your husband’s face became even more angry than before. He yelled and attacked his brother with all the burning wrath he had before been trying to stop from outbursting with.

“No! Stop! Please,” you pleaded as they fought and struggled one against another. Rabban took out his own blade now, too, and they ended up wrestling on the floor like two children. “That is enough, please!” You cried out.

Your tears brought attention to only one of them – your husband. He was distracted by them and ended up with his brother’s blade pointed at his face. You froze and Rabban laughed with contempt.

“Such a great warrior you are, my brother. Trained day and night for years, got your little arena shows… And now you got distracted by a woman,” he pointed out.

“That woman is my wife,” Feyd drawled.

You looked around in panic but the guards stood there petrified. They were afraid to attack any of the brothers. Usually shy and timid, you felt an odd outburst of courage as you took a blade from the guard standing nearby. He did not protest but only watched in terror as you approached the brothers and pointed the blade at Count Rabban himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” he laughed at you.

“Let my husband go,” your voice shivered but you managed to stand your ground.

“Or what?” Rabban sneered. “We both know you won’t strike me.”

In that very moment Feyd kicked him and got out of the direction of his brother’s blade. He ended up on top with his own knife pointed at Rabban. A smirk on his face revealed that he had never been defeated even for a second, he was only toying with his brother… and with you, too.

“She might not but I will,” Feyd hissed at his brother. “My marriage is none of your business, brother. And you stay away from my wife.”

“I am only representing you during the councils,” you tried to explain and Feyd looked up at you with his brow furrowed. “Your uncle told me I should because you rarely take place in them.”

“He’s scheming, can’t you see? Trying to turn us against each other. Thought you were smarter than this,” his anger was directed at you now.

He let go of Rabban and stood up to walk out of the room. You swallowed thickly and lowered your blade, scared of your brother-in-law’s reaction now when you were left alone with him after threatening him.

“Why did you take his side?” He only asked as you gave the blade back to the guard. “He doesn’t treat you any good. He never will.”

“He is my husband,” you explained quietly, avoiding his curious gaze.

“By name only. Your marriage is not even consummated.”

“Feyd was right,” you looked up. “Our marriage is none of your business, brother,” you emphasised who he was to you now before walking out to follow Feyd. It was easy because he left a trail of sand and blood from the arena behind him.

He went to your chambers so you took a deep breath in and pushed the doors open to face him in all his wrath and anger. He was struggling to get out of his gear with shaky hands as he shot you a furious glance over his shoulder.

“Should I call for the servants?” You asked.

“No,” he snapped and you sighed before approaching him and helping him yourself. At first he tried to shake you off but you were stubborn so he gave up and allowed your gentle fingertips to work on the pieces of clothing. “How do you even know how to do that?” He asked. “Did Rabban show you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear husband. I’ve read dozens of books about The Harkonnen art of warfare. I know your gears by heart. And Rabban is no gladiator,” you explained.

“Dozens of books about the art of warfare and The Harkonnens and yet it slipped your mind what masters of manipulation we can be?” Feyd barked at you and you chuckled. He didn’t find it amusing as he looked you up and down with contempt so you leaned in and placed a kiss upon his soft lips while your hands cupped his face. He was visibly taken aback by that, he didn’t even close his eyes for the kiss and he continued to observe you as if you would attack him any second.

“I have studied everything like a good pupil I was,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Your hands kept caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner. “And now I’m one of The Baron’s closest people. I’m your inside man, Feyd-Rautha,” you smiled gently and his eyes sparkled at the realisation.

“But… why?” He only asked, confused.

“What do you mean why?” You bit on your lower lip.

“I’ve been treating you… coldly,” he admitted.

“Well, that is another matter. But that is between you and me. The marriage is between a husband and a wife. Not between them and his uncle or brother,” you explained. “I still remember that big fat spider. I’ve known ever since I was twelve years old that the thing you crave the most is to gut your uncle like you did to that monstrosity in the dungeons. And as your wife… I will do everything I can to help you,” you assured him.

But Feyd was not convinced. He pushed you away although he did it way gentler than you’d expect. He walked away from you as he stepped out of the pile of clothes by his feet. He was wearing nothing but underwear now and you watched how his muscular body glistened with sweat after the fight. 

“You can be a double agent, wife. I don’t trust you,” he confessed.

“You have no reasons to,” you nodded. “Except for the fact we have fate and destiny bonding us. Am I the only one feeling this when we touch?” Your voice lowered as uncertainty began to grow inside of you. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you were the only one feeling that warmth indeed.

“No,” Feyd admitted, nearly inaudibly. “Why do you think I can’t fuck you?” He approached you again and you gasped at how close he chose to stand.

“Because you find me unattractive? Or boring perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “I don’t care about that. Our bond is stronger than physical attraction.”

“I can’t fuck you because that feeling is overwhelming me and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like that. You’re too pure for me,” he confessed, visibly uncomfortable with his own words as he looked away.

You were stunned for a moment.

“You’re an idiot, Feyd-Rautha,” you laughed eventually and he blushed. “I am not pure. I am flesh and blood just like you,” you told him. “For example now… When you’re standing in front of me… like this,” you allowed your hand to wander all over his hard muscles. “You’re starting a fire that will be difficult to put out later,” you looked up to meet his gaze. “Every time you start and don’t finish, you leave me in torment,” you confessed. “And nothing helps,” you pouted. “I writhe and I roll around and grow more and more bitter knowing that you’re giving your whores what you’re supposed to give me.”

He was nearly paralyzed in a way he was staring at you. You grabbed his hand and pulled your dress up to press his hand to your womanhood. You were soaking through your underwear now and he blinked a few times as his gaze intensified.

“I will never forgive myself if I break you,” Feyd took his hand away despite your protests.

“You’re breaking me by refusing to touch me,” you whined.

“Touch yourself,” he said suddenly as his eyes sparkled and you were left speechless. “Touch yourself for me. I will help you. I’ll make it feel good,” he proposed.

Out of desperation, you decided this was better than nothing – at least for now – so you agreed. As fast as possible, you got rid of your dress and remained in nothing but your sheer underdress. You laid on the bed and watched him approach you. Feyd laid next to you, observing you carefully. His eyes were admiring every curve of your body and every inch of your skin. Without waiting for his command, you pulled the underdress up and took off your underwear to toss the panties aside and start playing with your wet folds. It was embarrassing to see him watch but it also excited you in some twisted way. You toyed with your clit, moaning softly, showing him what kind of pleasure you could bring to yourself – what kind of pleasure you had to bring to yourself since he refused to do so.

“Easy, slow down,” Feyd breathed out and placed his rough hand on your waist. He was caressing you and joined your lips together in a sloppy kiss. His free hand undid the ribbon on the top of your underdress to free your breasts. They shivered under the touch of his big hand as he played with your nipples and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

You shut your eyes close, trying to focus on the pleasure as your fingers rubbed on your sensitive swollen clit but it was not enough. It never was.

“I can’t…” You admitted your defeat as you tried to catch a breath.

“Yes, you can,” Feyd whispered into your ear in that low, raspy voice of his that sent shivers down your body and straight to your core. “What’s stopping you?”

“It’s just… I don’t know…” You didn’t know how to find the right words. “It’s not enough,” you admitted. “It’s not you.”

“Let me, then,” he raised himself to look into your eyes as his hand moved your hand away and his fingers replaced yours on your exposed clit. You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles and teasing your entrance. 

You pressed your hands to his chest and then you moved them lower to explore the hard muscles of his abs. To feel them underneath your fingers was enough to make your back arch needily, exposing even more of your hungry pussy. Feyd smirked at that and buried his fingers deep inside as you gasped out of pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure.

His free hand grabbed your chin gently and when you looked up, batting your eyelashes and opening your lips slightly, he put his fingers inside of your mouth and you grabbed his wrist to hold on to it as you sucked and moaned. His other hand was bringing you close to your release as his movements were fast and rough and his thumb circled your clit.

You cried out but his fingers muffled it so you ended up choking on the sound escaping your lips as you came writhing under him with sweaty forehead and single hair strands sticking to your face, your whole body set on fire, trying to catch a breath. Feyd swallowed thickly as his eyes sparkled.

You yelped as he smacked your sensitive pussy right after pulling his fingers out of it and licking them clean, looking deep into your eyes. You were speechless as your mind was left thoughtless.

You could only watch him lower himself and open your thighs even further with his strong arms as he buried his face between your legs to lap on your juices. You were sensitive so it burned in the beginning but the uncomfortable feeling submerged into pleasure once again. Feyd’s tongue was cleaning your folds thoroughly and penetrating you while you threw your head back as you laid your hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. But this time he didn’t let you cum so easily.

When you were about to reach the peak again, he moved his head away and the next thing you saw was his face right in front of yours, his chin dripping with your wetness and his cold eyes filled with so much fire that you felt like a prey trapped by a big predator.

But you loved that feeling. You loved to feel small and tiny under him, trapped, vulnerable. You dug your nails into his biceps and looked down. He had already tossed his underwear aside and his cock was hard now, swollen and aching for you, you could see it twitching and leaking black precum. He looked heavy and big and you wanted him badly to claim you and violate you to the point no other man would ever even think of touching you after him.

You had never made him that hard. You had never gone so far before. You were sure you’d succeed now.

“Take me, claim me, make me yours,” you pleaded. “Please, I want more of you.”

Feyd shut you up with a kiss and a strong, stinging pain of his hard cock finally penetrating you. Your eyes widened as you whined. He intertwined your fingers together and held you through the process of adjustment to his size. You were the first one to impatiently rock your hips to show him you wanted him to move. So he did, slowly and carefully. He winced from his attempts to keep himself in control and you let go of his hands to pull him closer by his shoulders and deepen the kiss.

You moaned softly and helped him to fuck you by you rocking your hips against him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You both had been waiting so long for this moment of unity that it didn’t take long for you two to reach your highs and the familiar feeling of warmth filled you whole. You didn’t remember your own name, the only thing you knew was that you were home and the man above you was destined for you; you were born to be his wife and he was born to be your husband. The thousands of years of manipulation of the bloodlines had led you to this moment and nothing could tear you apart now. No amount of rumours, scheming or the disability to show emotions.

You were catching your breath as Feyd was slowly coming back from his high above you, panting heavily and looking at your face with hazy eyes.

“You belong to me,” he leaned in to kiss your lips again. “You always have.”

“No matter what happens, we are one,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with him as you held his hand. “Now, when that is settled, we shall focus on our most important task.”

“And that is?”

“Killing the fat spider in his nest,” you answered.

“Thankfully, we have experience,” Feyd teased before placing yet another soft kiss upon your parted lips.

MASTERLIST

[xsister-serpent]

Whispers Of Power

Chapter II

Summary: Y/N reunites with Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, joining him as a trusted advisor despite skepticism from the First Order. In private, Kylo confides his distrust and past betrayals, revealing his vulnerability.

Warnings: Past Betrayals/ Eventually this is have smut but it will be tagged as so/ Slowburn/

Info: Words 2382 / Chapter I / Playlist / Author's Note at end/

He gestured with his head for you to walk with him. The two of you exited the building into a downpour of rain. You pulled up the hood of your black cloak. His footsteps were silent yet commanding. You glanced at the shuttle as a low roll of thunder rumbled across the cloudy sky. This was your place now, a silent ghost following the shadow of The Supreme Leader. Except this time, you could mold him—this Kylo Ren.

Kylo stepped onto his ship, gesturing with a hand for you to follow. Most of the troopers simply stopped to stare at you, a mix of apprehension and awe on their faces. You kept your eyes ahead, following Kylo’s lead.

“No one is to disturb us,” he ordered firmly. He glanced at a tall captain clad in brilliant chrome armor. “Notify me only when we reach the Finalizer.”

“Sir,” she nodded curtly.

Kylo gestured for you to follow him as he headed to his quarters. You silently braced yourself for the private meeting, mentally preparing. You couldn’t help but notice that the chrome captain was the only one he directly addressed. With a hiss, his quarters’ doors opened, and you followed him inside.

“You may rest here until we arrive at the Finalizer,” he said through his metallic voice modulator, standing by the large red window of the command shuttle.

You nodded, lowering your hood. He stayed quiet, his expression unreadable, yet you could feel his mind racing with thoughts. There it was again, that thrumming pulse through the Force, growing louder and making you stiffen slightly.

“May I speak?” you asked, meeting his gaze.

Kylo nodded silently.

“The Reverend Mother said you requested me specifically,” you noted, clasping your hands behind your back. “That you refused to see other members of my sisterhood.”

He turned to look at you, his gaze scanning you from head to toe. “Yes. What of it?”

You held his gaze firmly. Even with his blackened mask, you sensed his thoughts reeling, his heartbeat quickening slightly. “Why?”

“Why does every ruler need an advisor?” he said sharply.

You could almost sense his lips pressing into a thin line beneath the mask. “Everyone around me betrays me. They do nothing but betray me. They lie to me. They use me. I need to ensure loyalty within the Order. I cannot trust anyone from that side of the galaxy. That’s why I came here.”

There was something hidden in his tone, as though he wanted to say more but chose not to. It did not escape your notice. It was like reading a book—he was the book, and you were the reader. Kylo’s fist clenched tightly, sensing your mind probing his thoughts. His heartbeat pounded in your head, like a rapid drum in your skull.

“Enough,” he said sharply, making you pause.

His breathing quickened momentarily before he exhaled slowly, trying to calm his rage. Kylo stepped back, his hands reaching for his helmet. With a sharp hiss, he removed it. You gaped as your eyes took in Kylo’s unmasked face. Ben had aged—he was more of a man now. Whatever softness his features once held had hardened. His longer, darker waves framed his face, his aquiline nose and sharp jawline. His deep-set eyes, however, did not.

“You’ve changed,” you observed softly, stepping closer to him.

“So have you,” he said, placing his helmet on the table beside him. He looked down at you, his brown eyes examining you. “It’s been a while, yet I can feel the Force within you. I can feel how strong you’ve become.”

Seeing you after all these years had unsettled him. You met his gaze, a million thoughts swirling in your mind, but you lost yourself in him.

“Do they know who I am to you?” you asked quietly.

“No. No one knows,” he said, his eyes scanning your face again. “Y/N, you’re the only one I trust now. The only person I can confide in, knowing you will give me your true word.”

You nodded distantly, glancing at the door and then back at him. It was like seeing a ghost—a fleeting glimpse of the boy you once shared a bond with.

“You will be protected. My word is law. The First Order will learn to accept you,” he said, pausing as his gaze lingered on you.

There was no doubt in his voice. Kylo extended his gloved hand, a silent offer of trust. You met his gaze, using your abilities to detect any hint of deception.

“You swear it?” you asked.

“You have my word,” he whispered, his voice gentle but determined. He wouldn’t let any harm come to you—not when he needed you by his side.

You took his forearm in your hand, feeling his muscles tighten under your palm. It was a token of trust, a gesture you had shared before your exile. Kylo seemed to soften under your touch, and in a way, so did you.

“Supreme Leader, we have successfully docked,” said the familiar voice of the chrome captain from the other side of the door.

Reluctantly, Kylo pulled his arm away from your grasp. He replaced his helmet, issuing the command for the door to open.

“Let’s go.”

Kylo walked with you out of his quarters as the doors closed behind you, marching toward the unlatch door of the ship. There, you were greeted by a red-headed general and the chrome-clad captain.

“Supreme Leader,” General Hux addressed him, his gaze shifting to you with a veiled glare. Suspicion was written plainly across his face.

You had anticipated skepticism—if not outright hostility—from some of them. It was no surprise. They didn’t understand your role, your part to play. How could they?

Kylo stepped closer to Hux, narrowing his eyes at him slightly.

“This is my advisor, Y/N of Bene Gesserit,” Kylo said firmly. “She is under my protection, General, from this day forward.”

“As you command, Supreme Leader,” Hux replied, though reluctance laced his words.

Your eyes locked with the General’s briefly. He was an open book to you, his faults and insecurities laid bare. Reluctance was just one of his many flaws. Almost in cowardice, his blue eyes darted away from yours. Kylo on the other hand, gave him one last glare before walking past him. Quietly, you followed Kylo, taking in the cold, metallic corridors illuminated by sparse lights. This sector was a far cry from what you were accustomed to.

“You didn’t tell them about your new advisor?” you asked Kylo. “You’re already adding fuel to the fire.”

“I am aware,” Kylo said curtly, his strides calm but purposeful. “I don’t trust anyone—not even my knights.”

He stopped in front of his quarters, his hand hovering over the door’s control panel as he entered a code. With a soft swoosh, the doors opened, and he motioned for you to step inside. You walked in, your eyes scanning the dark, spacious room with its minimalist design. You removed your coat and hung it on a nearby rack, your gaze drifting to the room down the hall—his bedroom.

No. You are here as an advisor, not his concubine.

The sound of his helmet being removed drew your attention. But an unspoken tension lingered in the air—a personal matter between you and him. You had been exiled from Luke and had never reached out to Kylo through the force. Despite his maturity, Kylo’s grudges were like a garden he meticulously tended. His reticence was palpable as he watched you, his question blaring in his mind: Why didn’t you come back to him?

“I’ll have the troopers deliver your luggage to your bedroom down the right hallway. You’ll be staying here,” Kylo said, standing in one smooth motion. “My private room is off-limits, but you’re free to go anywhere else in this space.”

You nodded silently, glancing around at the large, well-appointed quarters. It was more luxurious than the shared room you had in the sisterhood, and for that, you were somewhat grateful. His tone was stern, a clear signal that he wouldn’t indulge in reopening old wounds. That part of him hadn’t changed—his unparalleled grudges and spite.

Kylo moved toward the door.

“Before you go, I need to know one thing,” you said, halting him in his tracks. “How did it feel? To see the light vanish from Snoke’s eyes…”

Your question hung in the air, and you could feel the storm of emotions it unleashed within him.

You sensed his dread, rage, shock, guilt—and most of all, satisfaction.

His body remained rigid, his back still turned to you.

“It felt…liberating,” he finally said, his voice low and steady.

“Good. You deserved your vengeance.”

The silence between you and him settled into something resolute—a quiet, almost relieved stillness. Kylo turned to face you again, his gaze lingering for a moment before he gave you a small nod.

“You should rest. I can sense your exhaustion,” Kylo said, his voice softer now.

A sense of resolution washed over you. You were just as powerful as he was now. You could only imagine what it would have been like to see him standing in the throne room, triumphant over his fallen master. Now, here you were, offering him your guidance—to be his whisper of power.

Kylo nodded once more, picked up his helmet, and left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Your mind reeled with possibilities, strategies, and the weight of what was to come.

It was alleged night on the Finalizer, and you had prepared yourself for bed. Your belongings were still in the cargo hold, but that was the least of your concerns. What kept you awake was Kylo’s restlessness. Even from across the corridor, you could sense his turmoil—his mind roiling with unease as he tossed and turned, punctuated by frustrated grunts.

With a quiet exhale, you rose from your bed and slipped out of your room, making your way down the dim hallway toward his quarters. Trepidation gripped you as your hand hovered inches from the door. You hesitated, wondering whether you would be welcomed or turned away.

No, you reminded yourself. He is still your friend…your ally. And if things escalated, you were confident you could defend yourself. But you hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

As if in answer to your thoughts, the door opened silently. His bedroom was spacious and dimly lit, with a large bed at its center draped in black silken sheets. Your eyes adjusted to the low light, and you spotted Kylo. His back was to you, the pale expanse of his skin on full display, every muscle taut with tension.

“I could sense your unease,” you said softly.

“Of course you did,” he replied with a sigh, straightening himself in bed. “That’s why I opened the door.”

The weight of his uncertainty hung heavy in the room. His calm gaze didn’t match the chaotic storm of his thoughts. His eyes stayed fixed on you for what felt like an eternity, and you debated whether to step closer.

“It’s fine,” he said, rubbing his temples. The blanket slipped slightly, revealing the broad expanse of his scarred chest. “I won’t hurt you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He gestured to the chair beside his bed, and you took a seat.

“You still sleep with a light on?” you teased, glancing at the small orb of light glowing faintly on the far side of the room.

“Not everyone can adapt to the dark as you can,” he retorted lightly, surprising you with the quip. “You’ve no idea how many times I’ve smashed my shins on the bed corners.”

The unexpected humor caught you off guard, a glimpse of something uncharacteristic yet nostalgic. Somewhere in the back of your mind, it reminded you of Ben. Even in the dim light, he could see your features clearly. His gaze lingered, studying you intently—your lips, your nose, your eyes. Every part of you seemed to fascinate him, and the emotions fluttering in his chest were ones he didn’t entirely understand.

“I need you…for something,” he said quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

His brown eyes locked with yours, and your heart skipped a beat. Your gaze flicked to the scars on his chest, the deep pink lines a testament to the battles he’d endured. You remained silent, wary of what he might ask but willing to listen. He sensed your uncertainty through the Force, mirroring his own inner turmoil.  He took a moment to speak again.

“Could you…find a memory of mine to lull me to sleep?” he asked. “I know you have the ability. I just need one good memory…I’ve had enough nightmares.”

He turned his head slightly to look at you. He looked so vulnerable to you, and it hurt that you were ordered to expose his weakness. A pang of empathy washed over you. Despite everything, he was still your friend. But the look in his eyes held something deeper—something unspoken.

“I’ll offer you one of mine,” you said softly.

You reached out, placing a hand gently on his scarred cheek, then on the side of his temple. His mind was a storm of distress, thrashing like a tempest at sea. Kylo closed his eyes, and for a brief moment, you felt him savor the warmth of your touch.

You delved into his mind and offered him a memory—a peaceful one. In it, you were in the desert, surrounded by golden dunes under a warm, gentle breeze. Kylo wandered through the sandy landscape, his breathing calm and measured.  It was a tranquil moment, serene and untouched by fear. This was a sanctuary, a stark contrast to the nightmares that plagued him.

When you withdrew your touch, you noticed the tension in his face had melted away. His body relaxed, sinking into the black silk sheets. His muscles eased, and he looked almost at peace. You brushed your fingers lightly over the scar on his face one last time before stepping away.

Tomorrow, you would be sworn back into the First Order. Tomorrow, you would step fully back into Kylo’s life.

A/N: Hope you guys enjoyed it. Tags still open if you want to be tagged in fic lmk.

Banners by @targaryen-dynasty , photos are not mine found on pinterest

Tag: @paristheonewhoreads, @my-simp-space, @ssnapsaurus, @lm-lg-4ever, @noonee333

[mutsubaki]

What if Bene Gesserit tried to arrange a marriage between Harkonnen and Atreides anyway - that union is beneficial for many ways, maybe producing Kvizats Haderach in those conditions could be easier - but that was many years ago. Sisters were planting those ideas into houses, so both Paul and Feyd-Rautha remember, that there was a boy, from a distant planet, that was meant to be their spouse. That before the Arrakis, there were talks about their marriage; Paul remembers, that his father hated the idea, but his mother was somewhat reluctant about it, Feyd-Rautha remembers, that an Atreides was promised to him, when he was maybe ten or eleven, as the whole known universe. They have never met. Plans didn’t work, and Bene Gesserit decided to follow another path.

But they eventually met, only once. Both of them feeling strange, remembering their childish expectations of each other. And Feyd-Rautha thought that maybe he wouldn’t hate him so much. For that, he needed to at least try to win.

[hcneymooners]

ᥫ᭡. ALLY'S ARCHIVE.

ARCANE.

SEVIKA. — (always age gap.)

⋆ biker!sevika.

⋆ bodyguard!sevika.

⋆ mafia leader!sevika.

⋆ private uni au pt. ii

⋆ farmhand!sevika.

⋆ sugar mommy!sevika.

⋆ winter soldier!sevika.

AMBESSA MEDARDA. — (always age gap.)

⋆ wife!ambessa.

⋆ wife!ambessa headcanons.

⋆ dance instructor!ambessa. ⋆ landlord!ambessa.

⋆ warlord!ambessa (hotd style.)

⋆ best friend's mom!ambessa.

⋆ private uni au pt. ii

⋆ sugar mommy!ambessa.

⋆ caitbessa canon divergence.

⋆ ambessa x bene gesserit!reader.

⋆ young ambessa x curvy!reader.

VI.

⋆ private uni au.

⋆ bsf!vi.

CAITLYN KIRAMMAN.

⋆ private uni au.

⋆ caitbessa canon divergence.

⋆ model!caitlyn.

MEL MEDARDA.

⋆ stripper!reader.

⋆ private uni au.

⋆ dj!mel.

JINX.

⋆ private uni au pt. ii

⋆ jinx x mermaid!reader.

WCBB.

PAZZI.

⋆ pazzi dystopian au.

⋆ wnba!paige x wnba!azzi:

first half. second half.

⋆ popstar!pazzi.

⋆ slasher!pazzi.

⋆ ex-wives!pazzi.

⋆ wnba!paige x influencer!azzi.

© 2025 hcneymooners.

[blackwood4stucky]

"burning embers of a dying world" please!

"The Stucky Dune AU" - coming (hopefully) this october for all ships week

Brooklynd, the capital city on Vanaheim - 10923 Steve looked at the brunet haired baby boy with pointed ears in the bassinet, the omega he would one day take as his wife. He could just barely hear the adults talking on the other side of the room as they whispered about courtship and marriage. He couldn’t believe the Ljósálfar would travel so far from Álfheim to discuss such topics. He was a mere five year old boy, what did he know of alliances and weddings?

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