#i would make a terrible bene gesserit

[sand-and-spice]

So, I have some faceblindness (part of autism spectrum) and the first episode of Dune Prophecy was quite confusing to me!

For starters, I had assumed from the trailers that Valya Harkonnen was played by Samantha Morton (that's her on the left, from The Serpent Queen).

It turns out Valya Harkonnen is played by a different actress entirely, Emily Watson (that's her on the right).

[kasagia]

Right Hand V

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: The Bene Gesserit has something... very interesting to show you—something that only makes you question your situation more. During this time, Feyd is also put to a great test. But how much can your relationship endure before you both come to the conclusion that maybe you're not meant to be together? Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~ PART VI ~•♤♤♤•~

Dreams have a strange power. You can see your future and past in them. You can drift between dreamland and the real world and be semi-aware of your surroundings. You can create a new reality that is more tempting than your real life. Dreams can be either your sweet escape from reality or your dark oppressor.

For you, dreams were reminders of what had been, ghosts of the past, catching you in your most vulnerable state. But this time, you weren't dreaming about your past.

You were in Giedi Prime. You walked through familiar corridors, hiding from the Harkonnens' eyes. It was rare to meet anyone in these corridors. Most of them were dead ends with secret passages that were unknown to most of the inhabitants of Giedi Prime. That's why you were terribly surprised when suddenly someone pulled you by your cloak.

You freeze, startled, and turn slowly to face the small child. The kid looks like Harkonnen's child, but not quite. His skin is creamier than white, and white hair grows on his head in unruly curls. But what you recognised perfectly were the blue, bright irises that only one person could boast on Gieidi Prime.

"Mommy!" A boy around 5 years old runs up to you and hugs your legs as you look at him in shock and confusion. “Dad said he would take us on a trip! To Lankiveil! We will swim in a real lake! Can you imagine that?!” – he asks excitedly and holds out his hands to you. You automatically scoop him up into your arms and place him on your hip, trying to figure out what the hell is happening.

Someone's quick footsteps echo in the corridor. You look past the child and see one of the harpies approaching you. She breathed a sigh of relief and bowed to you when she saw the boy in your arms.

"You can't run away like that, my lord Na-Baron. The baron told us to look after you."

"I didn't run away. I quickly left to find my mom. Dad wanted to speak with her. Besides, it's not my fault that you're so slow." Both you and the woman next to you do everything in your power not to burst out laughing. You smile, burying your face in your "son's" hair. He was so damn similar to his father and you.

The boy jumps out of your arms and grabs your hand. He runs with you through familiar corridors and hidden passages, not caring if you can keep up with him.

This way, you are in the war room in just a few seconds. Feyd stands with his back to you, analysing something on the hologram of the planets in front of him. He doesn't even flinch when the secret passage closes behind you with a bang.

"Dad, I brought mom." Your boy announces proudly, leading you to Feyd. The man turns and runs his hand through your son's hair. The little one smiles, showing a series of night-black teeth... with small cavities. He looked so damn cute. Like a little version of his father...

"Good job, Feydor. At least you are able to find your mother in her shadows. Go, torment your uncle. I've heard that you promised Rabban a great fight after our lessons." Feyd says teasingly, wrapping his arm around your waist. You roll your eyes at his comment about shadows, but you can't help but watch his interactions with your son in fascination.

Feyd was rarely around children; on Giedi Prime, they were quite... not shown much. They were a temporary inconvenience rather than a source of pride, and the noblest and most important of the inhabitants rarely cared for their own descendants. The nannies and servants usually took care of them. That's why you observed with admiration how soft and tender he was towards the boy, who was a living mix of both of you.

"I did! I can't wait to use the voice on him. I love you, dad. I love you, mom." He hugs you and practically runs to the training room, looking forward to training with his uncle.

"Just don't humiliate your uncle too much! And remember to turn on your shield!" Feyd shouts after him, and you feel like crying at the worried and caring look on his face. You've never seen him like this. Well, not when the two of you were in no danger. "In moments like these, I feel sorry for Rabban. He has to face a deadly mix of both of us. Devious beast, just like us. It doesn't matter that Rabban is not using all his strength against him; he would have defeated him anyway with his tactical mind and the tricks he learned from you. I need to start training with him so that he doesn't become too arrogant and self-confident after his numerous victories over Rabban. He must always be alert and ready for his opponent."

Honestly, you're not listening carefully to what he's saying. You are shocked by this new reality in which you find yourself. It was too surreal for you. But you couldn't stop your heart from fluttering as he spoke about his son with such tenderness and pride. Your son.

"What's wrong? You look pale. Are you two alright? You had unusual cravings again, and now you regret what you ate?" The concern in his eyes confuses you even more. He places his hand tenderly on your stomach and watches you carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort as you wonder what the hell happened to make him... like this. It must have been your imagination. This couldn't be any vision of your future, because even in your wildest dreams, you had never imagined it to be so... beautiful. "Y/N? Talk to me, my baroness. Should I call a healer?"

"I'm fine." You reply with a smile, shaking your head and placing your hand on his—the one that was still tenderly caressing your small pregnancy belly.

"You sure?" Your lips hurt from smiling as you try your hardest not to cry in front of him with emotion. So you grab him by the neck and pull him in for a kiss.

He caresses your lips so gently and tangles his hand so carefully in your hair that you feel like you're about to cry from the way this rare, soft side of him makes you feel that he so bravely shows you.

"Yes... we... we are perfect." You whisper, resting your forehead against his, not at all referring to yourself and the child. You close your eyes, letting yourself breathe in his scent as he draws patterns with his finger on your stomach, keeping his arm possessively around you.

You wrap your arms around him tightly and bury your face in his neck, holding him as close as you can. He laughs softly and presses a kiss on your temple.

"There you are... I almost forgot how sweetly clingy you are while carrying my heir under your heart. We should've tried for a sister for our Kwisatz Haderach a long time ago." He murmurs against your skin and lazily plays with your hair, massaging your head. "Are you sure you are feeling good? You have been very quiet. Usually, you would throw all sorts of insults and banter at me. It's not too late for you to swallow your pride and admit that you want to give birth on Arrakis or anywhere other than on this polluted planet. Damn what those old hags think of you; it won't make you any less of a Harkonnen."

Your heart swells with every word he says. It takes a lot of strength on your part not to cry in his arms and to keep your voice from shaking as you try to form a coherent sentence.

"I... just promise me you will never let me go." You ask him, not daring to even look at him because you're afraid you'll cry the moment his eyes meet yours.

"You stuck with us, my baroness. Nothing can separate us." He promises it to you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and tightening his hold on you. You felt safe. Warm. Loved.

"Good." You mumble, snuggling into him even more. You act as if this is really happening, like this is really supposed to be your life and future.

You have come to the conclusion that it is impossible and unrealistic for Feyd to change like this. The Harkonnens were not soft; they did not lead a tender family life and cared for their wives if they did take one. But in the end, it's your dream. So you sink into his arms, enjoying the sweet words he whispers in your ear and the way he strokes your hair.

Feyd had never been in such a hurry to get to his chambers. His heart was beating fast, and adrenaline was pumping through his veins as he thought about what had happened in those few hours. The baron is missing. He was kidnapped or killed by the Fremen. Feyd was to take his place until they found his uncle's body or the council officially declared him dead.

And Feyd had his suspicions about who could have contributed to the sudden disappearance of his beloved uncle. You couldn't have given him a better birthday present. In fact, you could, and he was practically running back to his chambers to pick it up.

He enters the chambers and immediately senses that it is too quiet there. He tries to dispel any suspicions and enters his bedroom, only to find the bed empty.

“Y/N?” He calls out, knocking on the table a few times to make his presence known. He peeks into the bathroom, slightly hoping that maybe you're waiting for him in the hot bath to tease him even more, but you weren't there either.

He frowns. He wonders if this isn't one of your games. Isn't that what you wanted—to play cat and mouse with him, to give him an exciting chase before he wins and can finally ravage you—but he quickly dismisses that (charming) idea. You were as desperate as he was. You wouldn't leave this room unless it was urgent. At least he hoped so.

He clenches his fists as he steps out into the main room of his chambers. The idea crosses his mind that maybe this time you actually ran away from him. He wouldn't be surprised. Maybe you finally snapped; maybe he scared you too much; maybe he went a step too far today by injecting you with truth serum and torturing your former lover/friend.

After all, you didn't say you loved him. You also didn't say that you despised him or that you wanted him to leave you. You could have escaped from him when the perfect opportunity presented itself…

"My lord, Na-Baron?" The frightened tone of one of the guards' voices brings Feyd out of his thoughts. He realises that he has gone out into the hall and is standing in the doorway, staring blankly at his two men. He clears his throat and turns his cold, calculating gaze on one of them.

"Have you seen my right hand?" They both shake their heads, not daring to look at him.

"No one left or entered these chambers except you, my na-baron." His madness grows as he unintentionally compares them to you. You always had the courage to face his anger and look at him, proudly bearing his burning gaze.

If you really run away from him... he will unleash hundreds of hounds, bring you back to him at all costs, and make sure you never leave his side again. He won't give a fuck if that's what you want. He gave you countless opportunities to leave him and end things between you two in a civilised way without brutality or bloodshed, but you didn't want it. The only thing stopping you two from being together were your stupid prejudices and fear. He planned to get rid of them completely once he got his hands on you again.

"Bring her to me." He growls at them, turning to go back to his chambers.

"But my lord..." Before the soldier can finish his sentence, Feyd reaches for his blade and cuts his throat with one skillful move. It eases the tension in his muscles a little, but the moment the man falls dead to the floor in front of him, his mood sours again. Because he remembers how, in moments like these, you often gave him a disapproving look and cleaned up the mess he made.

He growls at the other soldier, who is shaking with fear, to clean up and closes the door behind him with a loud bang. He had to find you. You got too deep under his skin for him to just forget about you. First, he had to determine whether you disappeared alone or whether someone had helped you. And God save him who dared to steal his baroness from under his nose.

He carefully examines his chambers, slowly exploring every corner. He frowns when he sees a familiar, polished dagger in his weapon collection. He picks it up and looks at it carefully. It was your blade. The one you had attached to your thigh. You had never left it—not since you got it from him for your birthday.

"Na-baron. You wanted to see me." You say, walking onto the balcony of his chambers. Feyd doesn't turn towards you. He stares at Giedi Prime spread out below him, the city completely shrouded in darkness. Only the few white stars that managed to penetrate the polluted atmosphere illuminated the planet with a pale glow. You quickly catch the hint and stand next to him, also looking at the buildings.

"I hate it here." He confesses to you without knowing why. "My home planet had seas, lakes, wild landscapes, and tundra that no one dared to tame. And here everything is so..."

"Controlled. Polluted. Defiled. Exploited. No room for anything... wild or natural." You finish for him. He nods, agreeing with your words.

It's been two years since you served him. And he had to admit that he didn't have such a good man on whom he could always count. You were extraordinary. Loyal, faithful, brave, honourable, and cunning. Feyd wanted to liberate you. Not many could live up to his expectations, but you seemed to know exactly what he wanted and needed after just one look. It aroused in him... strange feelings. Disturbing. But he didn't think about it when he was around you.

He preferred to admire your… difference. The hair that flowed slightly in the wind, the way your eyebrows knitted together in anger when someone questioned your position as his right-hand man, the way you walked, the way you could disappear into the shadows, the cunning and strength of your mind. You were an extraordinary woman. He started to appreciate you for the time you spent planning together. Nightly conversations about the nobility of Giedi Prime, your battle plans, and court intrigues became… something other than work for him. He was starting to like being close to you.

And at night, when he was with his concubines... he found himself imagining you in their place. And how much he wanted you... so much so lately that every little thing you did was the hottest, erotic act for him, even the way you moaned in appreciation when you ate good food. He was fucked up. Like a teenager in love.

But he didn't love you. He could not. His uncle had told him many times that the Harkonnens knew no love or affection. He just had to wait until this desire passed or find another right hand and make you his concubine, which was a much more difficult task. There were many pussies and holes he could have used, but you were the only one who seemed to have a mind even remotely like his. He couldn't afford to lose such a good strategist and soldier.

"Do you need anything, Na-Baron?" Your gentle question brings him out of his thoughts. He nods and goes to his chambers. He returns quickly with a black box in his hands. He hands it to you, carefully watching your reaction.

"Happy birthday, little witch." He says, not hiding a small smirk when he sees your shock. He managed to surprise you so rarely that he treated every such moment with reverence, as if it were the most important moment of his life. Pathetic. What power you had over him…

"How did you..."

"I have my ways too. Open it." He interrupts you, excited by your reaction to his gift. He puts his hands behind his back, feeling his fingers tremble slightly as they begin to sweat. He ignores it, completely focused on you as you gently untie the white bow and open the box. You hold your breath, staring at the dagger in awe. "Steel from my home planet. Don't stab yourself with it by accident. When it pierces someone's body, a piece of the blade dissolves under the heat of the attacker's blood. A small dose of this metal in the human body causes, in the worst case, a moribund state and death. We call it the shadow killer because death occurs hours after the attack unless an antidote is administered."

"I... I don't know what to say." You whisper, taking out the blade and running your fingertips over it. He looks at you with pride. He made it all by himself. For you. A detail he would take with him to his grave rather than admit to anyone.

"You can thank me. Didn't the Bene Gesserit teach you this?" He asks teasingly, making you roll your eyes at him. However, you give him such a beautiful smile that his black, rotten heart beats faster, letting him know about you for the first time in years.

"Thank you, Feyd." He melts when you say his name. You used it so infrequently that he had every little moment seared into his memory when you let your professionalism slip through and did it. And he loved the way his name sounded on your lips. He couldn't help but imagine what it would sound like when you shouted it, under much more pleasant circumstances.

"You know, we Harkonnens kiss each other on the lips as an expression of gratitude." He says this as your eyes move back to the dagger. He sees you freeze at the memory of it. You blush slightly, but enough for Feyd to notice the slight change. And he absolutely loves seeing you blushing and confused.

"I'm not a Harkonnen." You respond with a cheeky smile, and he shakes his head in amusement.

"But you are on our planet. I guess you should follow our rules and customs, right? Besides, in a few years, you'll be considered one of us."

"If I survive."

"I think you have a good chance." He smiles at your banter. The pride in his chest grows even more when, instead of looking at his black teeth in horror, you giggle, unfazed. You were so different…

However, he freezes when you take a step towards him. You cup his cheeks in your hands and pull him in for a kiss. He almost moans into your mouth like a total slut. It takes all of his willpower not to kiss you back, not to pull you closer, and not to actually taste your lips. But he can't. He won't show that he is that weak for you. So he keeps this fake kiss very professional. He is digging his nails into his palms until they bleed, as he is too afraid that he will accidentally reach for your body and pull you closer to him.

You pull away from him as suddenly as you place your lips on him. And he's both shocked and angry that your lips left his so quickly. His eyes wander to your lips as you lick them. Feyd curses himself for how badly he wants that pink tongue of yours to wrap around his own... or the hardening manhood in his pants.

"Thank you, Na-Baron Feyd Rautha." You whisper and head towards the exit, leaving him there, completely horny and wanting more of you—your touch, your kisses, your lips, your taste, your everything. He feels himself blushing at the thought of what he wants to do to you.

"Your welcome, my little witch." He mumbles as you disappear back into your shadows. He puts his bloody fingertips on his lips, tasting his blood. He closes his eyes, imagining how sweet you must taste...

Yeah... Feyd couldn't love you. A lie he had told himself since that night every time he felt his heart pound in his chest whenever he saw you.

"Brother… I mean... my Baron…" Rabban's voice reaches him vaguely as he continues to recall that day. Now he knew the taste of your lips... and your more intimate parts. And damn him if he doesn't put his fingers and tongue on you again.

"What?" He growls at him furiously, unsheathing his dagger and attaching yours to his body. The blade of the dagger was a bit uneven. And soft in his hands. It must have been used recently. And from the dried blood on the handle, he guessed that someone had clumsily tried to clean it. Someone took you from him.

He returns to the bedroom and grabs your shawl from the floor. He puts it to his nose and inhales your scent. He calms down a little—not enough for his fury to disappear, but enough to start thinking logically.

He was going to turn Arrakis into a living hell.

"The council has met. All high families. They are waiting for you."

Feyd would ignore it and go straight to find you, but your disgruntled face appears before his eyes. He would know that you would advise him to go to the council and present himself as best as possible—show his strength. He sighed, wrapping your shawl around his wrist as he made a decision.

"I see. Let's go." He announces this as he leaves the room and doesn't wait for Rabban to follow him. His brother runs after him, cursing under his breath as he tries to keep up with his fast pace. Feyd had a plan in his head and a clear goal. He'll have you in his arms at the end of the day, or he'll burn this damn planet down looking for you.

"And your witch?" Feyd suddenly stops. He turns his head slowly and looks at his brother, narrowing his eyes at him.

He shakes his head, knowing full well that you would castrate his brother before allowing him and his men to take you away. Rabban was too stupid for that and too afraid of him. If Feyd had to bet on who did it, he would choose the Bene Gesserit or Atreides with his Fremen.

"She won't be there. Order our men to close the airspace and monitor movements in the desert. Tell them to keep an eye on the Reverend Mothers and the Bene Gesserit. If they object to or question my decision, order to tell them that the baron is only trying to keep them safe. They are to report their every move to me. Once you've done that, join the meeting."

"Me?" He asks in shock, following obediently after him.

"You are my brother. We have to show that we are strong and that there are no divisions between us. Especially after my uncle is dead. They may think we are weak targets and want to get rid of us, just like we did with the Atreides. We must assert our dominance."

Rabban nods, looking at him warily. Feyd doesn't care what he looks like. They took you away from him. He'll do anything to get you back. It doesn't matter if he makes you seem mad or a worse psychopath than he already is.

Why does he need a reputation as a bloodthirsty beast if someone dared to get their hands on what's his anyway? People sentenced themselves to death and then dared to say that he was unpredictable. Pathetic idiots. He hoped you were giving them hell. His heart ached uncomfortably at the thought of someone hurting you while he had to deal with the nobility.

"Let's be honest. Baron Vladimir is dead. Paul Atreides is still at large, probably planning our murder, and the Fremen are rampaging in the desert, worshipping the false prophet. What are you going to do about it, Baron Feyd Rautha?" Feyd clenched his fists under the table. He slowly stopped being surprised that his uncle had become such a man.

After talking to the emperor for a moment, he felt like cutting out his tongue and gouging out the eyes of other high families staring at him. As if his role was to play their hero...

"We have already taken the first measures. It only takes a few bombs to extinguish the spirit of these desert rats. As for Paul Atreides... my people are looking for him. And my right hand went missing the night my uncle died. We suspect this is a related case. I'm going to head out into the desert and join the search. Of course, leaving members of high families in the care of my brother and some of our people. No one will leave Arrakis until the traitors are killed."

His calm, unruffled demeanour, and silent threat caused a slight stir in the room. Feyd suppressed a smirk. He loved controlling the crowd this way. However, he knew that impressing the emperor would be more difficult. Words were not enough to prove that the Harkonnens were a force they should be afraid of. And so far, his brother and uncle have only brought humiliation to their family. He had to fix it. Only with you by his side. That's why he had to leave this pointless meeting as soon as possible and start taking some action. His weapon craved blood.

"It wouldn't be the first time a concubine had gone missing." Princess Irulan comments. Feyd shifts his gaze to her, analysing her carefully. She was paler than usual, her posture more indifferent, as if she were trying hard to hide her true emotions behind her mask. Feyd made a note to look at her more closely.

"Probably not, Princess Irulan. However, in light of recent events—the Atreides attack, the death of my dear uncle, and the increased activity of the Fremen—I am certain that this is not a mere disappearance. This is a deliberate action. Attack on noble houses. Attack on the Harkonnens. And maybe I wouldn't be so concerned about my right hand being missing if it weren't for the baby." After his words, silence fell in the room. Feyd delights in the shocked look from the princess and the nobles in the room.

"The baby?"

"My heir she carries." Feyd nods, repeating his words to the emperor.

Feyd could barely contain his smirk, knowing full well how much you would like to see the faces of representatives of great houses now. To say they were shocked was an understatement. But what else was he supposed to say? That he goes looking for you with a thousand of his troops because he loves you and simply can't lose you? Only the thought of losing his heir was... a good reason to search all of Arrakis and close the airspace—any possibility of leaving the planet.

Because who would stop Harkonnen from desperately searching for the woman who carries his heir? Even a fool wouldn't dare. And if the Bene Gesserit were behind your kidnapping, they wouldn't dare do anything to you either after hearing that... surprising information. After all, they needed his offspring for their plans. Why would they destroy one? Feyd just hoped to get to you first before anyone discovered that you weren't pregnant at all.

"You horny dog! Why didn't you say anything?" Rabban pats him on the back, laughing hoarsely. It breaks the awkward silence in the room. But still, everyone's eyes are on him.

"We preferred to wait with any celebration until we were sure that the baby was growing healthily. After all, this could be our Kwisatz Hederach. Of course, now the safe return of my fiancée with our child is much more important. Therefore, I hope that the Emperor will consent to whatever… measures I intend to take in this matter. Whoever dared to raise a hand against the Harkonnens will pay the weight of their crimes in blood." Feyd continues his lies, knowing full well that you will kick his ass when you find out he called you his fiancée in front of great houses.

"But… I talked to the Baron…"

"My uncle... has not been in good health for a long time. May he rest in peace. Whatever arrangement he made with you, the emperor, during my reign it must be discussed again. Unfortunately, he will not rise from the grave and give us all the details."

"Of course… Baron Feyd-Rautha." The Emperor nods at him. Feyd takes the opportunity and decides to leave the room while he can. He nods to his brother, who turns out to be intelligent enough to understand the message and stands up as well.

"Excellent. If you don't mind, we'll leave now."

He doesn't wait for an answer. He just goes out, with Rabban close behind him. He orders him to prepare the army for the march and place spies around the fortress. They split up halfway to Feyd's rooms. He goes to prepare for his departure, hoping that Rabban will cope with the tasks he has entrusted to him. He missed you. He knew he wouldn't have to worry about anything if you were by his side.

He sighs as he enters his chambers. He stops in his tracks, seeing Princess Irulan next to his collection of weapons. He closes the door behind him with a bang, announcing his presence. The woman trembles and turns towards him.

"Baron."

"Princess." He responds coldly, looking at her carefully. He didn't say anything more. He wanted her to explain her sudden presence in his chambers. He notices, however, that his new title sounds nasty coming from her mouth, no matter how seductively she tries to say it. He imagines you whispering it in his ear as you ride him on his new throne on Giedi Prime...

"I thought you were leaving." He returns to the present moment, making sure he remembers to fulfil this fantasy once you both get back from this damn planet.

"I needed to change first." He replies and clears his throat, suggesting that she should leave. Unfortunately, she either doesn't want to or doesn't understand his hint and stays where she is, watching him carefully.

He feels like he's playing chess. One wrong move, and he loses a pawn. He hated this game until you started playing with him in the evenings, when you exchanged gossip from the court and your own comments. He doesn't remember how many times you fell asleep and he carried you to his bed. His harpies hated these evenings, and he too hated them at the beginning. Over time, he was just waiting for that moment when he was able to watch you snuggle into his pillow, sleeping peacefully.

"I… that's good. I was hoping to talk to you before you left."

"Talk then." He says this and starts taking off his clothes. He notices her blush and the way she looks away. But there's nothing sweet or funny about this gesture, unlike the way you do it. He changes into his usual tactical battle armour as fast as he can, still thinking about the way you used to even shout at him when he was going fully naked around you.

"I was shocked by this news. About the baby. And your fiancée."

"Why?"

"Well, you know very well, my lord, that the Bene Gesserit has planned to unite our families. This shouldn't have happened." He furrows his hairless eyebrows, feeling the anger start to boil within him again. How dare she tell him what he should do? Who should get pregnant, and who should not? He didn't care what the Bene Gesserit wanted. Feyd wanted you, and you probably wanted him. That was all that mattered.

"Would you rather be at my fiancée's place? Would you rather carry my baby instead of her?" He asks dangerously, approaching her slowly. Before she can react, he lunges forward and almost crushes her neck in his grip when he prevents her from using the voice. "You are trembling with fear, princess. It is pathetic that the Bene Gesserit even thought we could connect in any way. Even if we got married, I wouldn't lay a finger on you. At best, I would kill you right after I consolidated my power as emperor. Now that we both know where we stand... Tell me, where is my little witch?"

"The Reverend Mother sent her to Paul Atreides' hideout." She answers him obediently. Feyd smirks sadistically and maliciously as her eyes widen in shock when she realises he has used the voice on her. "How?" She managed to ask before Feyd tightened his grip on her throat again, giving her a bored look.

"With one of your witches by my side, do you think I won't do anything to learn your tricks? I'm not an idiot to let an opportunity like this pass me by. You think that I didn't also see you wince with every move at the meeting? This must have happened right after my fiancée stabbed you when you kidnapped her, right? The poison took effect, didn't it? Are you feeling weak? Do you feel how you slowly lose your vitality with each breath? It will get even worse. Maybe my fiancée will have the mercy to give you the antidote, but I have no intention of doing so. Now listen to me carefully. You won't say or write even a word to inform anyone about what happened. You will lock yourself in your room and endure the effects of the poison without complaining to anyone that something is wrong with you. Get out of my sight before I finish my beloved's work."

He throws her away like a rag doll, feeling defiled just by touching her neck. The only reason he kept her alive was because she was the emperor's daughter, and he couldn't afford to get rid of her YET. She runs away from him as soon as his grip on her neck is gone.

He smiles mockingly and leaves his chambers as well. Now that he knew you would be in the desert, he was going to dig up those damn sand folds and kill all the Fremen and Bene Gesserit who had a hand in your kidnapping.

And once you are by his side again, he will give you the heads of the princess, Corrino's Reverend Mother, and Atreides on a golden platter—an engagement present worthy of a real baroness. Well, he'll have to convince you to marry him first. He sighs, realising how much work is still ahead of him.

You wake up feeling numb. Entirely. There's a gag in your mouth, your hands are tied behind your back, and your ankles are cuffed together, completely preventing you from moving.

You look around your surroundings, realising that you are in one of the Fremen hideouts. A small room carved into the sandy rock resembles a prison cell. You gasp as you try to get off the floor. With a groan, you lean against the cold wall behind you as you somehow manage to sit up. You wonder how the hell you ended up here. And how can you escape when you are completely incapacitated?

Suddenly, the door to the room opens, and Corrino's Reverend Mother enters. You look at the woman with a calculating gaze, showing no emotion other than disgust.

"Y/N Y/L/N. We thought you were dead."

You roll your eyes at her. The old hag knew perfectly well that you had a gag. The fact that she expected any response from you was ridiculous.

"You betrayed your sisters. We should have killed you the moment you were recognised by one of us. You're lucky we're still keeping you alive."

You would snort if you didn't have a gag in your mouth. The Bene Gesserit knew no mercy; if they kept you alive, it was because they still needed you in their plans. After all, you were the strongest of them, which might not be visible now, but it was the truth. They didn't train you all your life and shape you into their ideal form of some sick Holly Mother, just to throw you away now.

You are tensing as the old woman walks up to you and painfully grabs your jaw. You glare at her furiously with your own, not showing an ounce of fear or remorse. What you wouldn't give to have at least a butter knife with you…

"Do you think you are smart, child? That you managed to escape fate? Not at all. Our visions may have been blurry, but now we see everything. Paul Atreides sees everything. After his plan succeeds, he becomes emperor, and you will become his concubine and the mother of the Kwisatz Hederach. Until then, we will keep you under control."

"Who allowed you to come in here?" A cold, commanding voice echoes throughout the small cell. The Reverend Mother steps away from you as if she's been burned by him, giving you the opportunity to look at Paul Atreides as she steps inside. You shiver as his cold gaze falls on you, but you show them nothing but disgust and anger. If you're going to die, at least you will make sure that before you do that, you'll be remembered by them as one big pain in the ass.

"I..."

"Silience!" Atreides yells at her as she feebly tries to explain herself to him. You frown, wondering how the hell he gained such power over the Bene Gesserit. "Leave us alone."

The woman nods obediently and leaves, closing the bars to your cell behind her. You shift your gaze to Atreides, examining him carefully. He was… more portly than you remembered him last time. He became stronger, tougher, and visibly hardened by the sands of Arrakis, since his posture was stiff as armour. You catch yourself thinking that if he stood in the arena in Giedi Prime, he would still lose to your na-baron.

"I am not here to hurt you, Y/N." Atreides says, walking over to you. He crouches down so that you are both at the same height. You look closely at the features of his face, analysing them carefully, trying to read what's behind the strange behaviour of the mysterious Fremen's prophet. "We both have our roles to play here. Something that is above us. I learned a lot about you.I know about your service to the Harkonnens, what you endured as a Bene Gesserit, and every darkest part of your past. And I know you are a wise and very strong woman. You probably understand why all this is so important and why we must fulfil the prophecy and take our places in this story." He says, removing your gag. You clear your throat as he finishes his speech, and, trying to hide your concern, you growl, your voice so hoarse and dripping with madness that Feyd would surely be proud of you:

"You are a mad freak. Feyd will kill you as soon as he finds you. And hell knows, he will come for me. It will be pure joy to fight him for the privilege of being the one who impales your head." Atreides gives you a small smile. He shakes his head, amused by what you're saying. He stands up, helping you to stand on your two feet as well, placing his hands on your waist respectfully, and touching you as little as necessary.

"Come with me. Let me show you something." He says this in an extremely calm voice as he removes the chain from around your ankles. You briefly consider kicking him and trying to escape, but you realise there's not much you can do with your hands tied. You are also still weak—too weak to maintain control over someone else for long with the voice. "Do not be afraid. I told you. I have no reason to hurt you." He encourages, concluding that your hesitation is out of fear and not a desire to attack him.

"I lived for years among the Harkonnens. I'm not afraid of anything except myself."

He gives you an ironic smirk, as if he were convinced that he was an evil worse than the Harkonnens. You don't care about his poor attempts to intimidate you. You weren't some desert rat to be terrified of a man with nice curls and eyes.

You walk through a series of corridors, and of course he leads you, holding your arm tightly and making sure you don't do anything stupid on this little trip around his kingdom. It brings you great satisfaction. Your reputation had obviously taken its toll if he continued to be vigilant around you while you were still half sedated and tied up without any weapons.

You smile sadistically at the Fremen you pass. They look away from you, too afraid to meet your gaze. You were known among them as the Na-Baron's bloodthirsty right-hand, whose cruelty rivalled that of many Harkonnens.

You and Atreides go deeper down. You slowly start to feel dizzy from the number of corridors, corners, and stairs he tells you to take, but eventually you reach a more spacious room. You sigh, feeling the humid air—a sweet change from the dry Arrakis wind. Atreides takes the torch and leads you deeper into the room. You gasp as you see a large pool full of water.

"The Fremen treat water as something sacred. They collect it from the bodies of their people; the water of the more deserving people goes to such pools."

"This is a waste. And stupid, considering that they are dying from a lack of water while having pools of it safely hidden from the Harkonnens." You notice, staring at the pool of water. You tense as you feel Paul's searching gaze on you. You turn your head and give him an intimidating look. He doesn't even flinch. He is unfazed as he continues to analyse you—something you don't like at all. You wish Feyd was here. He would gouge Atreides' eyes out the first time his gaze lingered on you for a second too long.

"Possible. But it's not the first time we waste something in the name of faith, right?"

"Faith befuddles and stupefies. Same as prophecies. We are responsible for our own fate. It doesn't matter what some crazy old man wrote in the books a hundred years ago, probably under the influence of drugs or other alcohol. No one influences our future except ourselves."

His silence at your words worries you. You turn your head to look at him. A small smirk spreads across his face—a sign that your words didn't outrage him as much as they were supposed to. He nods, agreeing with your words, and you realise what he really means. The son of a bitch was testing you. Logical, considering that he was the one who started the cult of him. He thought like you. He did not believe in any Kwisatz Hederach, and even if he did, he considered himself one. He just needed you to keep the propaganda and people's faith in him.

He wanted to show that he had tamed the Harkonnen's witch.

Atreides walks over to you and carefully places a hand on your shoulder, directing you to a different side of the room. You pass by a pool of water. In the centre, there is a large stone bowl on a platform.

"The Reverend Mothers call it the mirror of wisdom. It shows us our future if we continue on the path we are currently on. Look. See what awaits you with your crazy beast by your side."

"It's very brave of you to think that I'm not one." He chuckled at your words. He lets go of you and takes two steps back, keeping his amused, curious gaze on you.

"The Harkonnens are different from us. You may think you are one of them, that you have absorbed their ways and behaviours, but the truth is that you are not one of them at all. You may have adapted to survive among them, but can you look me in the eyes and tell me you don't long for something more... normal?"

"Normality is for the weak." You reply, huffing furiously. "Apart from that, my life has always been different from normal. This is my normality, Atreides."

"Even the bravest warrior needs a break, a moment of respite. Look. Aren't you curious?"

You were very damn curious. Especially after that strange dream/vision you had. So, without saying a word, you approach the bowl of water. You take a breath and dive your head into it, letting the images flood your mind.

This time you are not on Giedi Prime, and you are not a participant in the events. From a distance, you watch the older version of yourself adjust the crown on her head. Empress's crown.

You see yourself flinching in the mirror as the door to your chamber bursts open. Feyd, dressed as an emperor, walks in furiously, heading straight for you. He pushes the large mirror, smashing it against the wall with a roar.

However, you don't care about his sudden attack and watch him, unfazed, as he gasps with rage.

"Is something wrong, honey?" You ask in an almost too-sweet tone, mocking him.

"Do you have the nerve to ask me that? Why don't you tell me where my concubine is instead? Where did you send her? You gave the corpses to the harpies to eat? If any harm has come to her, I will make you eat all three of them before I tear out your cunning heart from your chest, witch."

"You'd have to touch me first. And we both know that lately you're more afraid of laying a finger on me than of our son dethroning you. Which is very surprising, by the way. Has that concubine of yours brainwashed you so much?" You see yourself smiling mockingly as you watch his anger grow with every word you say.

"Don't talk about her like that. Unlike you, she's not a cold, uncaring, selfish bitch."

"Of course not. A smart woman wouldn't willingly sleep with you." This completely breaks the remnants of his composure. He walks over to the older version of you and wraps his hand around her neck, pressing her against the wall.

But he doesn't do it the same way he does with you. It's not a gentle neck hold, a warning, or anything sexual—something that would turn you both on. He just cuts you off, choking you, watching with sick satisfaction as you squirm, trying to get out of his grasp.

"What's stopping me from ending your miserable life? You have already given me a son; your usefulness has long passed, and yet I still let you breathe the same air as me." He says this, tightening his grip on your neck. You gasp as he pushes you away.

From the way you fall to the floor and choke for air, you assume that the older version of you was only seconds away from suffocating. But you don't surrender to him; you don't give him any satisfaction in trying to intimidate you. You start laughing derisively, shaking your head in amusement as you slowly get up from the floor.

"Aw... you couldn't kill me. You're like a dog. You bark and do little. You love me too much to kill me, don't you remember? How did you beg me all those years ago for a piece of my feelings? Who said I love you first? Who was begging on his knees for my hand? Who wanted to have a child? You. You are just a desperate little boy looking for love and affection. You probably even liked the fact that I'm jealous of you and kill your lover? Unfortunately, I don't give a shit who you fuck. I didn't steal your whore, so get out and don't waste my time, husband." You mock him, waiting expectantly for his next move.

He stares at you with pure hatred and resentment. You feel the tension in the room begin to build; the immense anger and disgust between the two of you are palpable. You have no fucking idea how you came to be so hostile towards each other, but... you can't say you're surprised. Because if you were already imagining a future with Feyd... this was the scenario that came to your mind most often.

The two of you were too broken to trust each other and entrust each other with the remnants of the heart that beat and remained within you.

Feyd looks like he wants to say something. But he gives up and instead just leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.

You swallow, observing your pathetic fate. The empress locked in a golden palace. At eternal war with everyone. Lonely. Your heart aches at the thought of this being your fate. This is what you were running from. Before relegating you solely to the vessel she was to carry and give to the world, Kwisatz Hederach, Because what would be the use of you then? You would be rejected and alone. Waiting to die. However, you didn't expect your end to look like THIS.

A figure emerges from the darkness of the room through a hidden passage—a man who is a copy of you and Feyd. You see a similarity in him, in your movements, in your creeping through the shadows. He approaches you from behind, holding a dagger similar to the one Feyd gave you on your birthday. You don't react when you feel steel around your neck, as if you had long ago come to terms with how you would die—and by whose hands.

"You were right, mother… I was destined to achieve much more."

And with that, he cuts your throat. Crimson blood runs down your dress, almost invisible against the black material. You die quickly. Quietly. Like a rat...

"Have you seen something interesting?" Atreides' voice reaches you as you step away from the bowl after the vision ends. You sigh heavily, breathing heavily. Drops of water roll down your face and soak into your linen shirt.

"Screw you." You snap at him, trying to wipe your face on the frame. He tears off a piece of his shavl and walks over to you. He wipes the water from your face and hair, not caring about the scowl you throw at him in warning.

"I told you. The future with Harkonnen cannot end well. But if you stay with me, I promise nothing will happen to you. You can be more free with me than you ever could with him."

And you're tempted as hell to accept his offer. You can't say you're not interested at all, that what you saw hasn't made you question your choices... but you've been a Harkonnen for so many years. Could you really forget all this so easily? Forget about Feyd? Maybe in that stupid Bene Gesserit's bowl you saw your tragic end at his side... but did it really have to end like this? You could avoid all this. Take a risk to gain something much better...

"So this is your offer? Freedom and security for lending my uterus for 9 months?" You ask him, wanting to know exactly what options and choices you have.

"In very simple terms, yes." He nods, still staring at you. You find this very irritating of him; you were usually the one who pierced other people with your gaze. Not the other way around.

"What for? You're telling these fools that you're their saviour and the messiah. Kwisatz Hederach, ahead of his time. Why do you need me?"

"I need the support of the Reverend Mothers of other families. I may have... your powers and be the strongest of them all, but I've learned that if you can gain someone's support in a peaceful way, it's better to try it before reaching for a weapon."

Atreides stared at you like you were a puzzle to solve. You didn't like the hidden arrogance in his eyes—the belief that he was truly capable of discovering all your secrets.

Maybe he knew your past, and maybe he saw visions of the future, possible scenarios of what might have happened after his decisions, but the present was yours. And only yours. You will be more than happy to show him that no one could tear out all your fangs and claws.

"Feyd will kill you sooner and bind me with tighter chains than you did, than he ever allowed such a turn of events." You say confidently, convinced that he won't just leave you. In this situation, it's a huge relief for you... but in your head, you can still see his sadistic smirk as he choked you against the wall.

"Not if I kill him." You tense up at his words, and your heart starts to beat faster as you process his words. You would never think that Feyd Rautha could ever die—not by another person's hand, of course. And certainly not Atreides.

He fought too well, was too intelligent and cunning to fail in battle, and yet... you couldn't deny that that one simple sentence Paul said with such confidence didn't send a cold shiver of fear down your spine or that you felt no threat.

"Have you ever seen him in the arena? Or how does he fight? You may have become stronger thanks to your time on Arrakis, but he was trained from childhood to be a small, psychopathic killer and ruthless warrior. You don't stand a chance, Atreides. You won't last a minute fighting him."

"Maybe not in an equal fight. But by trick? More than one great king fell under the intrigue of a lesser man."

"Are you talking about your father or maybe even your mother?" You ask mockingly, making his jaw tense and his hands clench into fists. You are very pleased with yourself that you finally managed to hit his sweet spot. Feyd would be proud of you.

"I'm talking about what will happen. Feyd Rautha will die. From my hands." The more he talks about it, the more your anger grows. However, you decide to stay calm and continue the little exchange between the two of you, trying to get something useful from him.

"Are you that sure about your visions? You don't hesitate for a moment, Atreides? It must be so boring knowing what's going to happen. Never having any element of surprise…"

"There are no more certain and clear visions than mine. Maybe you should also start believing in them?"

"Not as long as I have my brain." And my own visions. You add it in your mind, thinking about what you had dreamed about before you woke up in this hole.

"The rumors about you don't lie… Harkonnen's witch." He hums as he walks over to you. His hand reaches up to your cheek, using the pad of his thumb to gently wipe your cheek clean of the drop of water still left on it.

You shiver, staring into his eyes. His touch burns, but not in a nice, familiar way. And when you realise that the reason you're not attracted to him is because he doesn't have the familiar ice-blue irises, pale skin, and bald head, it scares you more than Atreides' sudden proximity to you.

"I'm glad I didn't disappoint you, Atreides." You whisper, moving away from him. You quickly lean in, wanting to bite, or preferably bite off, his finger that was caressing your skin, but he withdraws his hand and takes a step away from you. He laughs at your feeble attempt to harm him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but then the ground around you starts shaking. The sand rock crumbles, causing some of it to fall from the ceiling onto the ground. Atreides looks at you suspiciously.

"Didn't you see it in your visions? Maybe there's a sandworm crawling through your halls?" You ask mockingly, shrugging your shoulders.

"Stay here." He commands you using the voice. He doesn't spare you a second glance, simply heading for the exit. You look at him in disbelief and quickly follow him. The last thing you want is to get buried in one of these rats' corridors because one of them summoned a sandworm in the wrong way.

"I could be of much more use to you there than here." You say, as you are catching up with him, desperately trying to convince him.

"Not if these are Harkonnens!" He replies without looking back and slamming the door shut. You kick them in rage, looking around angrily at the large hall where he left you.

"That's the point…" You sigh, fed up with it all. You walk around the room, trying to find a way out, but even when you manage to find the side passages, you can't take a step beyond the threshold. You are forced to stay inside. "Fucking Atreides."

Instead of wandering aimlessly around the room, you decide to try and break the shackles that bind your hands. You try to smash them against the stalagmite, only to hit harder as the metal cuts into your wrists. After a while, when you have released all your anger, you somehow manage to free your hands. You rub your wrists, letting your blood soak into the sleeve of your linen shirt. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet sound of the water and the footsteps you hear from the upper floors. Something is happening...

Frustrated, you wander over to the pool filled with water. You crouch on the edge and dip your toes in the water. You watch the drops fall, wondering how many people have already given their lives. How many died at the hands of the Harkonnens? You wonder whether your water and blood will also join the ranks of their victims. It seems surreal to you now that Feyd could ever kill you or your own son... but how were you supposed to know what your future was supposed to be? Were you supposed to trust some strange visions or yourself?

While playing with water, you freeze when you suddenly see someone leaning over you. Before you can turn around, a hand covers your mouth, and another wraps around your waist, lifting you up. You scream and kick, trying to get out of someone's tight grip, but your attempts to break free are futile. You freeze when you hear a familiar, raspy voice whisper in your ear.

"Don't worry, it's me. It's just me. Shhh… You're safe. It's me." You relax a little in his arms. You reach your hand up to his and remove it from your mouth. He loosens his grip enough for you to turn in his arms.

"Feyd." You sigh when you see his face. You throw your arms around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. You rest your chin on his shoulder and breathe in his scent as you hold onto him tightly.

You hear him breathe a sigh of relief as well. He places a kiss on the top of your head and hugs you tighter. After a moment, he pulls away from you—not too far away, only a bit—so he can look at your face and see if you have any injuries.

"You're getting out of here. Our men are hidden in every corridor of this hole. Take a few of them and go to the exit. They will take you to the ship. Wait for me there." He gently cups your cheeks in his hands and forces you to look into his eyes. Your heart beats faster as you recognise that concerned look in his eyes from your dream, mixed with anger. "Y/N. I mean it. I know you want to fight; you're brave and a great warrior, but do it for me and just go to that damn ship."

"No. Wait, listen to me. I have to tell you something..."

"You'll tell me you love me later, now you have to get out of here, so I can destroy this place." He interrupts you, gently pushing you towards the exit. You feel anger and frustration building within you as yet another person tries to control you and tell you what to do. No matter how sweet and protective Feyd is acting now, you are fed up with constantly obeying everyone around you.

"Stop!" You shout at him, making him stop in his tracks in shock. Under any other circumstances, you would laugh at the surprised look he gives you, but not now. "Do you trust me?" You ask, looking at him expectantly. You know you're asking a lot of him right now, but if you're going to change your future, you have to act now. And fast. Very fast.

"Y/N this isn't the best…"

"Do you trust me?!" You interrupt him, raising your voice. He must see the desperation and seriousness in your eyes because you see him swallow, considering the question you've asked him. You unconsciously hold your breath, waiting for him to respond.

You both know this isn't an ordinary question. It means something more. Admitting something you both had been avoiding since the first day your blades met in a little skirmish that earned you his sympathy. He had long admired you for your mind, intelligence, ingenuity, cunning, and natural charm. But could he trust you completely?

"I… I do. If I trust anyone, it's you. Only you."

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. You take a step towards him, cupping his cheek in your hand and kissing him. He tenses in surprise but kisses you back pretty quickly, moaning into your mouth as you express all the passion and desire you feel for him. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer to him, wanting to feel your body against his to make sure this isn't some dream. You caress the skin of his neck, shuddering as an electric shiver runs through you as he deepens the kiss, taking everything you have to offer him.

Kissing Feyd always felt like it was the first kiss between the two of you. He kissed like he fought—with his whole being, not holding back, transmitting all his passion and desire. He didn't even know how much you needed to taste all of him right now. And how bittersweet that kiss was for you.

You reluctantly pull away from him and press your forehead against his. You close your eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

"I love you, Feyd. I have always loved you. And I was very afraid of it, but I'm not anymore... I... I don't want to be scared of this anymore." You admit it as a single tear falls from your eyes. He reaches to wipe it off, but you shake your head. His hand freezes, hanging between you as he stares at you in shock, trying to process what you said.

Just as he's about to open his mouth, probably to tell you the same thing, you lean in and kiss him again. Slower, more gentle. A few tears escape you, allowing you both to taste them through the kiss.

You reach for the sword attached to his waist with trembling hands.

"I'm so sorry. But it's not our time yet." You whisper, moving away from him just as Paul Atreides returns to the room. He slowly walks towards you, his sword dripping with black Harkonnen blood. And you decide that if anyone spills blood in this room, it will be you. It must be you.

So when Paul is about to approach you and stab Feyd in the back, you close your eyes and stab Feyd with his sword. You hear him let out a shaky breath as his black blood slowly seeps from the wound, staining your hands. You keep your other hand on his shoulder, supporting his weight as he slowly sinks to his knees in front of you. You try to ignore him, not look at him or in his eyes... you simply cannot. Instead, you stare at Atreides.

Paul is beyond shocked by your actions. He looks for a moment at Feyd's black sword, the tip sticking out of his back—proof of what you did. After a moment, his eyes meet yours. After a while, he approaches you, sheathes his sword, and smiles proudly.

"This will be the beginning of a wonderful alliance, Lady Y/N." He says this, offering you his hand, which you reach for. You shake them, glaring at each other, assessing each other's behaviour as a new agreement forms between you.

You smile, hiding your fear as best as you can and holding back tears when you see Feyd's unconscious body out of the corner of your eye. But you've come too far to change your mind. From now on, you decide your fate.

Only you.

To be continued...

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[dyns33]

His Dark Sun

Time for me to post a bit more about Feyd Rautha.

"I dreamed of you."

First strange sentence from her betrothed when they met. Not really what Y/N expected from a Harkonnen, but not from anyone either. There were probably few people in the universe who would have dreamed of marrying her.

Children born under a dark sun were not highly regarded in most cultures. Bad omen, the certainty of something bad coming.

Absurd, according to the Bene Gesserit, who had often repeated that this had no impact on genetic heritage.

This kind of belief could serve them, like disrupting their plans.

This was almost the case following Y/N’s birth. Her parents, from one of the last great families of the empire, were afraid of her. They even wondered if it would not be wiser to kill her immediately, or if that would not risk bringing even more misfortune to them.

But they were also afraid of the witches, who ordered that they not touch the girl. She could be very useful in the future.

This was certain when Lady Jessica gave a son to Duke Leto Atreides. It was planned that she would only give him daughters, one of whom would marry one of the Harkonnen descendants, to ensure peace between the two families, but also for more confused projects.

Since it was not possible to marry young Paul to the Baron's heir, a new wife had to be found, because the lineage had to be assured.

The people of Giedi Prime worshiped their beloved Black Sun, so they were not the type to think that those born under an one were a problem. All their children were like this.

Under other circumstances, parents might have been reluctant to marry their daughter to a Harkonnen. They didn't really have a good reputation.

But at the same time, they remained an important family, one of the richest and most powerful in existence. In addition to forming an interesting alliance, they also allowed their clan to get rid of Y/N.

They could do whatever they wanted with her, even kill her, it would no longer be their problem the moment she left their planet.

As the eldest, it would have made sense for her to be given to Glossus Rabban, the Beast. But Baron Vladimir had favored his younger brother as his heir, and so she came to this dark city praying that Feyd Rautha Harkonnen was not as terrible as the rumors said.

He was more handsome than she expected. Anyway, as handsome as a Harkonnen could be, with no hair, eyebrows or eyelashes, his skin pale and his eyes icy.

Calm, polite, he advanced towards her before his uncle or brother could speak, making it clear that he wanted no one between him and his future wife.

"I've dreamed of you. Many times, since I was young." He said, kissing her hand to welcome her, his voice trailing slightly. “I suspected a witch.”

"I did not follow the teachings of the Bene Gesserit."

"I know."

The Harkonnens did not like witches. They had little esteem for their order and only respected them out of political concern, seeking every means to circumvent their authority.

It had been a surprise to everyone that the Na Barron would agree to a marriage they had orchestrated.

But Feyd Rautha was a man of honor, intelligent, ready for anything. On top of that, he had been intrigued by this story of black sun. He had inquired, he had seen a portrait of Y/N, and then declared that she was his.

Y/N had never dreamed of the Na Baron, and his attitude seemed strange, frightening.

She didn't believe in destiny. This was just another legend used by the Bene Gesserit for their own gain, nothing more.

But the Na Baron looked at her with amazed eyes, convinced that she was special.

It was very proud that he killed several prisoners in her honor in the arena, tearing out the heart of the strongest to offer it to her with fervor in front of the cheering crowd, delighted by the spectacle and the discovery of their Na Baroness.

Secretly, she thought that he could kill her like this the day he understood that there was nothing special about her, despite everything he might believe.

Y/N tried to make him understand it on their wedding night, afraid of what he was going to want to do while being convinced that she could accept anything from him.

"I am not as strong as my noble husband. I know that you have… You have particular tastes. If your expectations of me were too high…"

“Everything will be perfect.”

"Husband…"

"Say my name. Without shaking. My wife doesn't have to be afraid of me."

"… Feyd."

He didn't know how to be gentle, that was obvious, but for her Feyd Rautha did his best. At every nervous reaction from Y/N, he stopped for a moment to contemplate her, checking if she was just anxious because she was ignorant, or if she really didn't like what he was doing.

All her life, she had been mistreated, by her family, by other nobles, by her people. They were too afraid of the curse to touch her, but she had suffered greatly.

She never would have thought that the first person to treat her with tenderness would be a Harkonnen.

“No more tears for my Na Baroness.” whispered her husband, kissing her.

He didn't talk about it, but Y/N guessed that they had a past with similarities. It was common knowledge that young Feyd had been taken by his uncle to be raised on Giedi Prime, rather than staying with their parents.

In gratitude for this sacrifice, Glossus had killed their father, and his brother had killed their mother.

The slanderers claimed that they had acted on the Baron's orders, or with the aim of securing his favors.

But Y/N knew. She knew this bloody, dark desire that she had suppressed for a long time while standing next to her sleeping parents' bed. It would have been easy to slit their throats and be freed.

Feyd remained a prisoner, and not being able to kill his jailer, he attacked those who had allowed him to put him in a cage. Revenge, pure and simple.

Everyone had heard of the Baron's love for children. Why wouldn't he have loved his own nephew ?

He didn’t talk about it and Y/N didn’t force him to talk about it. Before each meeting with his uncle, he took her hand as if to give himself courage, and afterwards he avoided her for hours, days, because he did not wish to soil her.

Either he took out his rage in the training room and the arena, or he went to see his concubines.

He would have killed them all if Y/N had asked him to, just as he would have killed everything that had made her suffer.

But she saw that he cared about these creatures, obedient, without judgment, whom he could torture as he pleased knowing that that was all they were waiting for. There were things he couldn't do with his wife. He didn't want it, and neither did she.

So the Na Baron could continue to have his fun, while making sure his wife was happy.

The only time Y/N dreamed of Feyd, he was on a yellow planet. Sand everywhere, the sun beating down, and blood. A lot of blood. Bad omen.

Y/N could have said nothing. It was just a dream after all, nothing more, as all of Feyd's dreams meant nothing either, but he had been good to her, and she felt she had to talk to him.

He looked at her for a long time in silence, before nodding.

"Witches say there isn't just one path. Only possibilities. I saw us, ruling Giedi Prime, side by side, with our children. Your smile being the only thing that gave color at this place."

"… You think I saw your death."

"On Arrakis. My uncle just gave it to me. Rabban has failed, I must restore order there."

"It was very blurry. Feyd, I…"

"I will be careful, my Na Baroness. My sun. Now that I know of this possibility, I will be careful."

If she hadn't told him, no doubt he would have died with the Baron and his brother. Y/N could have said nothing, and she would have been freed from the Harkonnens, sent home where her family only wanted her dead, deciding to become the Baroness, or running away, far away.

But she had made a choice, and her husband was very honored by it. If she wanted him to live, then he would live, even if it meant some sacrifice.

He hadn't seen himself as emperor in his dreams, although he wouldn't have minded.

When a champion was asked to face Paul Atreides, Muad Dib, it was terribly tempting.

But he thought of Y/N, he thought of the dreams, and he bowed, knowing what awaited him if he accepted the fight.

In response to the emperor calling him a coward, he sneered that the old man should only take a sword and fend for himself.

Just before his uncle's death, Feyd had several tons of spices evacuated, to ensure a significant stock, while sending a message to the other great houses concerning the Imperium's betrayal of the Atreides.

Muab Dib had looked at him as if he were crazy, then something had changed in his face, a revelation, and all traces of judgment disappeared.

"… You dreamed too." he whispered, his face turning slightly towards a young Fremen girl, but his eyes not leaving Feyd, before quoting him. “Your pet.”

"My wife." the now Baron corrected him with a growl, refusing to let the Atreides compare Y/N to this savage he was going to betray to marry the Emperor's daughter. “My Baroness, who is waiting for me.”

"For her sake, I will let you go."

“Wise decision, because if you try to hold me back, I will cut your throat.”

And if they both knew the outcome of a fight for power, it was not certain that Feyd would not be capable of killing the young Duke with the motivation of finding the woman of his dreams again.

Both clever, none of them took the risk.

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 1

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none for this chapter. Masterlist of warnings overarching the series

A/N: Hello! If you’re here then there’s probably something wrong with you too, so let’s be friends. I haven’t been able to write anything lately until I saw the latest Dune movie and then all of my thoughts became dedicated to Feyd-Rautha. I must get these thoughts out. Help. Me.

“Chin up.”

Your mother brushes your hair back, bronze, like hers, and lifts your chin. Her gaze is critical. You stare back, thinking only of the things that she will find fault in you. An endless amount, you muse. The slightest flicker of expression on Lady Jessica’s face informs you that she suspects what you’re thinking. Your teeth grit.

“Must you do that?” You hiss through your painted lips. The servants have dressed you specially for the occasion. A floor-length black dress and, settled on your shoulders, a red cape clasped together with the House of Atreides insignia.

Jessica withdraws her hand. Your mother radiates femininity and power, a feat you’ve yet reached. Even the cool way in which she regards you drips with regality.

“Do what?” She asks, feigning innocence.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Jessica’s blue eyes harden. “You don’t have to, daughter. It’s plain enough.”

Mother and daughter stare at one another.

She tried to teach you the ways of the Bene Gesserits, but you failed to take to it. You were too expressive, too…volatile. You struggled to detect the slightest change in voice, you could never sit still long enough to study, and your facial features always betrayed you. The only aspect you succeeded in was combat — there was no need to mask your feelings, your thoughts, able to just completely lend yourself to the blade.

But it wasn’t enough.

“You’re fortunate the Reverend Mother has chosen to see through with this arrangement,” Jessica all but snarls. “There’s hope for you still, in form of an heir.”

The Kwisatz Haderach.

The only reason your mother still spoke to you, affords you any attention at all. The fact that you’ve been painstakingly bred to produce him: a Bene Gesserit of male origin, capable of accessing the memories of his ancestors and see through time and space itself.

A terrible mantle for an unborn child.

In the black of night, you sometimes lay your hand on your abdomen and utter apologies to the egg nestled in your ovary; burdened with horrible purpose. If only you could avoid its fate. But you were not even in control of your own.

“I want to stay here,” you plea finally, pitifully.

Jessica steps away from you, brushes off her skirt. “You know that you cannot.”

“I can help Father,” you insist. “You know that he worries about gaining the approval of the Fremen. I can —”

“Enough!” The Voice. It snaps your mouth shut and renders you mute. “This is bigger than both of us.” Jessica snatches your upper arm, pulls you close enough to feel the heat of her anger. “Your father wanted a son. A heir. But it was my duty to produce a daughter. I ignored the pleas of your father because I understand what it is to serve. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

You swallow your disgust, though it lingers like a foul taste on your tongue.

This isn’t the first time that your mother has told you this. Nor did you think it would be the last.

Perhaps making a home among your enemies would be better than staying here among family.

“Fine,” you say. You wrench your arm from her grasp then turn away. It’s futile, you know the heighliner will be here soon to whisk you away, but you can’t stand to be in the presence of your mother any longer. Fortunately she lets you go.

You’re not even aware of where your feet are taking you until the familiar sound of the baliset meets your ears. Gurney rests lazily on the ground in the massive corridor, back against the wall and string instrument in his scarred hands. He doesn’t look at you as you approach nor when you collapse down beside him.

Usually Gurney’s situationally appropriate songs bring you a modicum of comfort, but today it seems more ominous than insightful.

“I won’t miss your singing,” you say.

He stops playing. “You jest.”

Playfully, you crack open one eye and peer at his baffled expression. You try not to laugh. “I don’t.” A sigh escapes your mouth then, and you slump further down, uncaring if you rumple your gown. “I will, however, miss the singer.”

“Don’t bother appealing to an old man like me. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Hm,” is all you say, lost in thought.

Gurney sets the baliset to the side. His hand finds your knee and he squeezes. “You will be fine, Lady Y/N. I’ve taught you well.”

“Not even what you’ve taught me will suffice for what I’m up against.”

“Nonsense.”

Both eyes open now, you stare pleadingly at the swordsmaster. “Just come with me. Please.”

It’s Gurney’s turn to sigh. With a groan he heaves himself to his feet and offers you a hand. “You know that I can’t,” he murmurs.

His loyalty to your father doesn’t extend to you.

He is Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis, after all. And you are just his daughter. A pawn. A womb and nothing more.

You reach out to ghost your fingers over the scar on Gurney’s cheek. “Tell me about them.”

The Harkonnens.

“There’s nothing you don’t already know or haven’t learned from the filmbooks,” Gurney says to you in a terribly soft voice. It’s unfitting of the great soldier. “They are a cruel people. Do not trust them.”

You nod, irrationally devastated that your final plea to Gurney did not work. But his words were not anything new.

Nothing you learned about the Harkonnens has been pleasant — from their oppressive rule and misogynistic society down to their industrialized homeworld. Your chest aches.

First you were forced to leave the lush beauty of Caladan for Arrakis. You had even grown admittedly fond of the desert planet, just to yet again be snatched from another home.

“Thank you, Gurney. For everything.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgment, then holds out his arm for you to take.

Gurney has been like a second father to you over the years. While Leto was out securing political alliances and holding meetings, it was Gurney who kept you company. He aided in your combat training and believed in you when no one else did. To lose him would be to lose a great friend, indeed.

By the time you return to the antechamber where you’d been, Leto has arrived. He looks as cunning and handsome as ever, and the smile he flashes you is enough to cut you to the bone.

If what Jessica said was true about your father wanting a son and being sorrowful he did not get one, you would never know. He has only ever made you feel loved.

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you. He smells wonderful. The same way he did all of those years ago when he would tell you stories of your grandfather and tuck you into bed, his beard tickling your cheek.

You breathe him in for one of the last times. “Hello, father.”

“You look marvelous,” he says. His smile falters slightly. “Are you ready? I wanted to ensure that you’ve said your goodbyes before we leave.”

Bitterly, you think, Before I leave. Everyone else will return to Arrakis and you will be moored on Giedi Prime, married to a bloodthirsty monster and forced to grow round with his child.

The thought makes your knees tremble.

The Harkonnens controlled the fiefdom of Arrakis before your family and were unbelievably outraged that it, and the flow of spice, had been stolen from them. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your reception on their planet will be like. It’s any luck if you don’t get slaughtered upon arrival.

Especially since the Baron’s nephew, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha — your betrothed — was known for his brutal nature. You hoped stupidly that the arrangement of marriage and promise of an heir would be enough to keep you alive.

At least for awhile.

Feyd-Rautha killed his own mother. Who knew what the status of wife meant to him?

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer Leto. He squeezes your hand.

You hug Gurney goodbye then board onto the heighliner after your parents. It’s difficult to suppress the tears threatening to fall as the ship takes off in a flurry of sand and departs.

Normally you’d be completely enraptured with the endless golden dunes, but today you stay rooted to your seat and refrain from crying.

The flight to Giedi Prime happens much too quickly for your liking. Already your heart is in your throat, hammering out your nerves in a steady rhythm.

The view from your seat reveals the strange nature of your new home — a black sun. Never again will you see the stretch of blue sky from Caladan or feel the formidable heat of Arrakis. The entire world outside the ship stood in sharp black and white contrast, all color drained from the surroundings and its people.

You spy hoards of Harkonnens gathering beyond the ship, awaiting the arrival of the na-Baron’s wife and their future Baroness.

Your stomach churns. How could you ever lead such ugly, wicked people?

Jessica’s voice engulfs you. “Chin up,” she says again to your dismay. “You mustn’t show any weakness. Not here.”

You raise your chin the slightest amount. Jessica nods stiffly in approval, and it’s in that moment you understand that your mother’s harshness has been preparing you for this. While you hardly feel the urge to forgive her, an odd sense of calm washes over you.

You are an Atreides. And you always will be.

No one can take that from you.

The boarding ramp disengages and you’re the first one to step onto it. A hush of silence befalls the crowds.

You stride forward with as much confidence as you can muster, focusing not on the leering eyes of the Harkonnens but instead on the Baron’s fortress. A large pathway separates you from it, granting you plenty of time to get your fill. It’s as grand as it is excessively boastful; tall, pointed towers cleverly connected, all sharp lines and edges. It leaves the impression of a finely crafted dagger.

A display of power and wealth.

Behind you your parents emerge and the carefully observant crowd launches into disarray — shouts and yells of anger, of hatred, grate your ears. You know that they take it in stride, however, and their strength fortifies your own.

By the time you’ve crossed the distance from the heighliner to the inner walls of the fortress, your eyes are blurried by the strong contrast outside now given away to darkness. It takes a few moments for you to adjust. When you do, you quickly look over your surroundings.

There’s few decorations or art. It’s cold and impersonal and extremely clinical.

Your slippered feet reverberate off the high ceilings.

Bracing yourself, seemingly, has been for no reason. For it’s not the Baron and his nephew that meet you but rather a line of Harkonnen soldiers. Their faces are stoic.

You bristle. “Where is the Baron? And my betrothed? Do they not wish to receive us?”

The soldiers do not answer.

A man appears then from down the hall, a Mentat by the look of him. He’s pale and bald and clad in black like the other Harkonnens.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N,” the Mentat says. “My name is Piter de Vries. I am here to escort you. The Baron and na-Baron will receive you now in the throne room.”

Leto lays a hand on your arm as if to stifle your response. “Please, Piter, lead the way.”

You can’t help but glance curiously at your father. This entire situation was delicate, you knew, but you wonder at his subservience. It’s an insult not to be immediately greeted by their hosts, especially when your guests happen to be the Duke of Arrakis, his concubine, and their daughter. If Leto agrees with this affront, though, he doesn’t show it.

Leto simply strides after Piter with you and your mother in pursuit.

The fortress boasts sleek walls and floors, polished to perfection. Piter guides you to the throne room a short distance away, the sight of it stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s larger than any room you’ve seen before, outfitted on the far side with steps leading up to a grand dais.

And upon the dais, demanding your attention, is Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. The man is as large as the throne room itself but not nearly as impressive, pale and beastly, his enormous weight supported by suspenders. He makes no movement as you enter.

Your gaze moves quickly, eagerly, away from him.

Standing on either side of the dais are his two nephews. Aware that you can’t stand to face your betrothed yet, you fix your attention on his brother. Rabban, you recall his name.

Rabban is bound with hard muscle and swathed in what you can only describe as thinly veiled anger. At his side, his fists clench and unclench restlessly.

Then, without permission, you look to your future husband.

Feyd-Rautha stands as tall as Rabban but roped instead with lean, attractive muscle. His brow sits above dark eyes and a generous mouth. There’s a frightening intensity to the way he stands, encapsulating both nonchalance and a dangerous arrogance. Clearly this man is used to getting his way and will stop at nothing to do so.

And it’s this man that makes no effort to disguise the way he studies you, starting at the top of your head and trickling languidly downward.

A chill dances down your spine.

When he catches this, catches you watching him — he must’ve known that you were — his lips twitch into the faintest of smirks.

Part 2

[sp4ceboo]

OMFG CHAPTER 2 IS EVERYTHING I HOPED FOR AND MORE!!!!! Can we get a wedding chapter 3 👉👈 or are you not a fan of that

A/N: ANON IM SO GLAD U LIKED IT - tysm for this request, it may be a little short bc im terrible at writing happy things and im also working on another feyd fic, but ask and u shall recieve 😌

A/N pt. 2: well this is awkward. draggng this out a year later bc i forgot all about this. there was meant to be more but idr what it was oops 😅

tw: smutty near the end, marriage (lol), i overuse the four letter 'l' word, both are lovesick which kinda makes them ooc, no beta we die like feyd, complete and utter lack of dialogue or detail bc im a moron, honourable rabban mention but idk how honourable

wc: 1.1k

Yours is a tale that the people of Giedi Prime love.

Their revered na-Baron met his match in the arena, and in a rare moment of mercy, spared her. He found her fiery nature as alluring as her prowess upon the sands, and later, during a reunion shrouded in mystery, he professed his desire to marry her, right then and there. They are mesmerised by the two of you; by the way you alone can withstand the heat of his firey soul, by the way he alone can bear the touch of your once frosty heart.

That is not the whole story, though. They do not know of the night within the storms of Giedi Prime, fraught with tempered emotions. They do not know of the morning after, when you awoke cradled in Feyd's arms, his lips in your hair, speaking of a future that you had never considered as anything more than a fantasy invented for the weak of mind.

When it comes to the matters of the heart, you find you are often wrong - that is why you find yourself standing somewhere you would have never guessed: opposite Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, clothed in a wedding dress.

The satin like fabric accentuates your waist, the leanness of your muscles. It is uncommon for a Harkonnen to marry such a woman. Brides are picked for their purity and ability to produce heirs, not the sweetness of love or strength in a duel, and yet the masses respect you nevertheless - there is something in you that they recognise in themselves; the hardened lines of a warrior, the look in the eyes of one who has been in battle.

The people of Giedi Prime do not search for passion of fondness, but allegiance and loyalty. They find both of those within your relationship with Feyd, and the rest, the love, they allow to remain a mystery to them. Naturally, they find this marriage birthed not by strategic positioning but by emotion strange - uncanny, some mentioned - they do not object; they have seen you fight, nobly so, and that is what matters to them.

Rather bizarrely, the Baron did not object. Maybe because when his nephew informed him of the wedding, he saw in his eyes that there would be no yielding, or perhaps because this is what fate desired. What the Bene Gesserit desired.

It does not bother you that you may be playing into their hands. You chose to say yes when Feyd asked for your hand, his words whispered against your skin on the morning after the storm, and you will be the one sealed to him forever, bound not only by soul but by vows too. This is a choice you claim as your own. They had no hand in the deep, aching love washing over you when you look at the man across from you.

He is clad in sleek, black fabric embroidered with symbols that match your dress. It is not his clothing that enraptures you, though, but the look in his eyes, as if he would burn the world for you - the universe. There is an unbreakable, utter devotion that he regards you with that you know you return.

He is yours, and you are his.

Feyd never takes his eyes off you as he says the vows. When you repeat them to him, you feel them branded into your bones; you know they are true. You will love him until you dying breath. You will love him longer than that.

When he leans in to kiss you, you don't hear the wedding guests cheers or applause. You just feel him against you, his hands gripping your hips and tucking you close to him as he pledges his soul to you with the touch of his mouth on yours. As you pull away, he nips lightly at your lower lip, fire in his eyes.

Fucking hell, you can't wait for the wedding night.

That's the main thought occupying your mind during the banquet. You converse politely with the guests, amused by the wide eyes they give you at some of your replies - you find it entertaining, the way they listen to your tales of opponents you've encountered; these are a civilisation that revel not only in the electrifying bloodlust of a duel, but the art of the fight too. These, daresay, are your people.

Feyd keeps his hand on your thigh the whole night. Occasionally, he'll lean in to kiss your cheek or cover your fingers with his, and it sends a warm jolt through you each time - this man is your husband, this man is yours.

Rabban is quite entertaining, too. At first, he was perturbed by the casual way Feyd's hands glided over your figure, unused to seeing his brother as affected by a person as he was by a fight, but you find him sweet, if a little dim. He is the granite to Feyd's fire: solid, blundering, somewhat boorish, saying what comes to mind without considering the consequence. In this way, he manages to offend a few guests that come to greet you, but you smooth their egos with some well placed words, hiding your smile.

You sense the moment Feyd begins to truly get impatient, exactly halfway through the third dessert course. His jaw clenches, his fingers tightening wonderfully on your thigh, his words to the guests a little blunter. He lasts until the end of the fourth course before abruptly standing up - the guests turn their heads, shocked by his interruption, but he offers them no explanation, just drags you out of the banquet hall as you stifle your laughter.

The two of you make it halfway down the corridor before you realise you're never going to reach the bedroom. Digging your heels into the stone floor, you lead him down one of the more secluded hallways, stopping halfway and pouncing on him, your fingers already working on the buttons of his shirt as he presses you against the wall, his hands skimming up your back before tangling in your hair.

"You are rather impatient, husband," you laugh.

"Why need another course of dessert when my wife is right there, ready to be eaten?"

"Fair - ah - fair point."

Feyd does not bother to remove your dress, instead simply hitching it up around your hips as he lifts you in his strong arms, mouth finding your slick cunt immediately. His strong nose brushes against your clit, and you sigh contentedly, moaning as his fingers curl inside you.

"Louder, my love," he croons. "Let them all hear you scream your husband's name."

[madamevirgo]

okay so i have an idea for a lady jessica x reader fic, where the reader is one of the fremen and supports and protects jessica, around the time when paul and jessica join the fremen. She is still pretty vulnerable and even a bit scared but only shows that side of herself with the reader.

obviously you dont have to write that :)

Mine to Give

Pairing: Lady Jessica x (f!)reader

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: none? Terrible writing, softness.

A/N: I took this and ran with it ijbol. I’m a little rusty, so I apologize, but I hope you’re happy with this. Thank you for the request!!

You looked up from the stillsuit that you’d been working on repairing for the last hour at the sound of rushed footsteps moving about. 

Although it was not uncommon to hear commotion about the Sietch, these sounds were different. The footsteps were rushed and had a certain urgency to them that compelled you to follow them. As you got closer to the communal space, you heard voices laced with equal parts anger and anguish. 

“What’s going on?” You asked a little boy who almost crashed into you as he was pushed back by the large crowd that had been formed. 

“Stilgar is back with the others, and they’ve brought two outsiders. One of them killed Jamis” he replied hastily, before worming his way into the crowd once more - like a little desert mouse. 

You frowned as you watched him go, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. Jamis was dead, killed by the strangers. Why would Stilgar - a man you knew to be wise and calculating - risk endangering the community by bringing the foreigners here? He wouldn’t. He had a motive and a reason, you would find out. 

—————

“I’ve been gone for weeks, and you don’t even make an effort to greet me upon our arrival.” You turned around to see Chani leaning against the entrance to your room. 

“I didn’t hear you enter the yali.” You said as you approached her with a smile and claimed her in a hug. 

“What had distracted you enough for your acute senses to have been so diminished.” She asks, and you follow her as she sits at the edge of your bed. 

You take a moment to collect your thoughts. “These outsiders that you and Stilgar have brought, what do you make of them?” 

She looks ahead, her eyes seeming to lose focus as she thinks of an answer. “They’re the last remaining survivors of the Atreides family, our latest oppressors - slaughtered in the night by the Harkonnens. The woman is a Bene Gesserit and Stilgar believes the boy to be the Mahdi, the Lisan al Gaib. You know how I feel about these prophecies that have been written to control us.” You put a hand on her clenched fist to placate her. 

“Calm yourself, my sister.” You start quietly. “I know you are suspicious by nature, but you must not let your anger cloud your vision. Trust that Stilgar knows what he is doing. Give them a chance.” 

“If I am too cynical, then you are too trusting. I fear that your heart will get you in trouble.” She says with a slight smile, making you bump her shoulder with yours. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to trust strangers. And this prophecy - the Lisan al Gaib is supposed to be Fremen.” She said as her eyes once again regained their previous harshness. 

“I’m an outsider,” You replied pensively. “Yet, Stilgar saved me from the desert and raised me like his daughter. Feeding, clothing and cuddling me. You have done much the same, claiming me as your sister and teaching me to fight like a Fedaykin amongst other things. So tell me Chani, by your logic - am I Fremen or an outsider.” You held her gaze awaiting her answer. She looked down with a frown, before answering.

“You are Fremen. You learned the way of our people.” she says with certitude.

You put a hand on her cheek “I am both. He too shall learn, much like I did. I know you and Stilgar will advise him - just like you did me.” You finished gently. 

“You truly live up to your name.” She said with a smile, before getting up and extending a hand to you. “Now come, the others are waiting for us and I haven’t had a proper meal in three weeks.

———

Dinner had been a very interesting affair. You got the chance to get a better look at the duo, more the boy than his mother - as her back had been turned to you. That only served to increase your curiosity and you found yourself oddly disappointed when Stilgar came to collect her. 

If you thought Chani was against them, this was nothing compared to the way Shishakli felt. The badmouthing, paired with the sight of the boy who was desperately trying to ignore the stares and the taunting comments had effectively cut your appetite and forced you to excuse yourself to go on a walk. 

You’d been wandering for a while, not paying attention to where you had ventured when you bumped into someone coming from the hallway to your left. It was only your quick Fedaykin reflexes that allowed you to grab her before she could fall. 

“I’m so sorry.” You said and as you settled on the face of the woman standing in front of you, you recognized her to be the woman outsider. A slight movement of her hand caused your attention to deflect to her growing belly. “Shai-Hulud strike me! Are you okay? I should have been more mindful of where I was going. Please sit for a moment.” You gently guided her to a resting corner that was often used for prayer. 

“It’s okay, no harm no foul.” Replied the woman as you both sat down. “I am afraid I got lost. I tried to find my way after meeting with Stilgar, but these hallways all look similar to me.” She said quietly. 

You were finally able to get a good look at her and two things stood out to you. She was insanely beautiful and the sadness that covered her features looked like it was swallowing her whole. 

“I’d be more than happy to help you find your way back to your son.” You said as you stood up and she followed suit gratefully.

“Thank you, Stilgar left pretty quickly and I didn’t get the chance to ask for directions.” She explained as you began to guide her towards her intended destination. 

“He means well, but he is a bit scatterbrained at times.” You responded with a smile. 

“I’m beginning to see that. I would’ve asked someone, but most people here look at me a certain way.” You looked at her from the corner of your eyes and saw a glimpse of sadness in her eyes. 

“You have to understand, that they’ve never met anyone like you and are weary of outsiders.” You explained as neutral as possible, not letting your need to protect your people get in the way. 

“I do understand,” she responded, probably sensing that she had hit a nerve. She was a Bene Gesserit after all. “It’s only normal under the circumstances, but still, it stings a bit.” She finished quietly. “You are different.” You inclined your head, signalling you were listening, but keeping your eyes forward. “I sense no distrust in you. You have only treated me with kindness so far. The only other person who has done that has been Stilgar.” She finished 

“That’s one of the qualities that makes my father such a great leader. As for me, I believe that everyone should be given trust and respect until proven otherwise,” you said proudly.

“You’re Stilgar’s daughter?” She asked with veiled surprise. 

“Adoptive, yes. My name is Y/n, but my people call me Amela,” you explain. 

“Y/n.” She whispers as if testing the way your name rolled off her tongue (rather well). “I’m Jessica. Amela means ‘One who hopes’, does it not? That’s a beautiful name.” You got a weird feeling in your stomach at her compliment. 

The rest of the way was completed in silence as you both were lost in your thoughts. Her more than you, as you couldn’t stop your eyes from wandering to her. After a few turns, you arrived at the communal area where you had been eating. 

“Mother!” You looked to see the other outsider approaching you at a hurried pace. “Where have you been? I was worried sick.” He said as he finally reached the both of you.

“I got lost after meeting Stilgar. Y/n here was kind enough to guide me back.” She said gesturing to you, and the suspicious look he had been giving you wavered. 

“Thank you for that. I’m Paul.” He said, extending his hand. You accepted the foreign greeting before letting go.

As you stepped away, you noticed your father in the distance and it suddenly occurred to you that you had missed him. 

“I should go greet Stilgar.” You say as you step away. Before you could leave completely you spared Jessica one last glance. “Welcome to the Sietch”. 

————

The next time you saw her, she was the Reverend Mother. You hadn’t been one of those who’d waited outside the cave where she met with the previous Reverend Mother, the thought of her potentially not surviving the ordeal made a cold sweat travel down your back. 

You were sitting in a corner in the communal area, quietly working on a defective fremkit, when you felt a figure looming over you. 

“Glad to see you survived drinking worm piss.” You said in a teasing tone. 

“Barely.” She said as she took the greeting as an invitation to claim the seat next to you. “Are you some kind of engineer?” She asked as she watched you work on fixing the fremkit. 

“I’m a Fedaykin by trade. Fixing things is just a pastime.” You explained. 

“How come you’re not outside with the others?” 

“They’re more than capable of dealing with the spice harvesters. Besides, from what I hear, your son seems to be more than enough extra help.” You closed the fremkit and handed it to her. “A gift” You explained. 

“I doubt I’ll need it, but thank you,” she says thankfully.

Her response reminded you of a conversation that you had with your father. “I intended to go find you after I finished here actually. You said as you fully focused your attention on her. “I’ve been assigned as your personal guard, by Stilgar.” you watched her for any discomfort as you uttered the words. 

“That is a bit useless. I’m sure you’ve heard of the weirding way. Much more effective than any fighting taught across the universe.” she said with disdain. 

“I’ll try not to take offence to that. Fedaykin’s fighting skills should not be discarded,” you said slightly colder than you intended. “I don’t see how me protecting you is any different from the treatment you had as a Duke’s bound concubine. But if it’s my presence that makes you feel unsettled, I can promise to not let myself be seen.” she went to argue, but the look on your face must have dissuaded her. 

“Fine, but I still think this is a waste of your time.” she relented and you let a satisfied smile appear on your face.

—-------------

For weeks, you followed the Reverend Mother around. Watching as she continued her Bene Gesserit propaganda amongst your people. You should have been angry at her brainwashing your loved ones, but you couldn’t help but focus on her more appealing qualities. 

Her beauty for one. The way she walked, sometimes seductively, sometimes like a fearless woman. You also grew protective of her, admonishing anyone who dared to utter negative words about her. And when the day had been long and the weight of her responsibilities and precognition seemed to crush her, you felt the urge to take her in your arms and tell her that you would take care of it all. But you couldn’t; you could only watch and make sure she was safe physically. 

You didn’t talk much, just like you had promised; and she did a good job at acting like you didn’t exist unless necessary. A hard task since you had been given a room in her yali. It had been a month since you’d been appointed as her guard when your relationship took a more personal turn. 

It had been a particularly long day. News from the Fedaykins had come of another successful mission, but many had been lost. Too many. Every time we received news that Paul was still alive, she cradled her belly and let out a breath. She had spent most of the day mumbling to herself, or rather her daughter. Something she seemed to do more when she was anxious. You wish she’d talk to you instead.

You were in deep sleep when a scream had you immediately jumping to your feet and running to her room, your Crysknife drawn, ready to defend your lady. You arrived and quickly surveyed the room for any imminent danger, when you saw none - you approached the bed where the Reverend Mother was trashing about. 

“Reverend Mother!” still she didn’t wake up as you avoided getting hit in the face by her wild arms. “My lady! Jessica!” finally, her eyes snapped open and she looked around in panic, before meeting your worried eyes. 

Once she did, she burst into tears. “It’s too much.” you didn’t think twice before gathering her in your arms. You understood what she meant by that. You’ve seen the toll her new position had taken on her in the past month. 

Your heart broke for her and you felt more useless than ever. You cursed the Bene Gesserit for making her this way, you cursed the Harkonnens for having disrupted her life, you cursed Paul - for whom she was doing all this, you cursed Stilgar for having entrusted her into this position, but above all - you cursed yourself for not being able to do something about it. As she cried, so did you. You who had been taught not to give your water away - you let your tears fall freely for Jessica, as you let yourself echo her pain and sorrow. 

“I’m sorry. Shh, I’m so sorry. I’m here.” you repeated these words like a litany as you held her. 

Eventually, her sobs turned to sniffles, and to hiccups before she fell asleep. You don’t know how long you stayed watching over her like a vigil. Sometimes she would whimper in her sleep and you’d pat her back softly until she was calm again. Soon, sleep also claimed you, and you fell asleep where you sat on the floor with your hand in hers, and your back against the nightstand. 

When you woke in the morning, it was in a very soft bed. The pillows smelled of something fresh. You’d heard about a place in the universe that was full of greenery and water. They called it a forest. You think this is what that must have smelled like. This is the type of comfort that it must have brought. You didn’t want to move, but when you remembered the event of the night, you couldn’t get up fast enough as you ran around to find the older woman. 

Your heart was beating in your chest, chastising yourself for having been sleeping so deeply. 

“You’re awake,” you turned around to see her coming out of the bathroom and let out a sigh of relief. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up, I thought-” You shook your head to get rid of the bad thoughts. 

“I didn’t want to wake you up after last night. Besides, it wouldn’t do any good for my bodyguard to be falling asleep on her feet.” she teased slightly, you kept your face neutral, still trying to get your heart to calm down. 

“I’m sorry”

“Thank you” 

You both spoke at the same time and you looked at her in confusion. 

“Thank you for what?”

“Why are you sorry?”

This time you allowed myself a smile to accompany hers. 

“You first, my lady.” You said gracefully 

“I am saying thank you for the comfort you provided last night,” she hesitated, before adding “For this past month, really.” she finished almost bashfully. A look you hadn’t seen on her face before. 

“I haven’t done anything worth acknowledging. Not last night, and not these past weeks. All I’ve done is follow you around.” You shrug. 

She crossed the room in three long strides before taking your hands in hers softly. 

“I know it’s been hard at times to watch me work. You don’t agree with how I’ve been spreading my doctrines - but I’ve never caught any judgment, hatred or disgust from you. You’ve been more of a companion for me.” she looked to the side and frowned, before capturing your eyes once again. “The path I’m on can be lonely, I’ve been thrown into a new culture and position with no time to adapt, collect my bearings or mourn. I’m scared, terrified actually; but it’s been a little easier with you watching my back.” she finished.

“I’ll always have your back,” You mumbled earnestly

“I know.” she taps her head slightly with a finger, to show that she can see it, and you laugh. Of course, she can. “This is only the beginning of something beautiful for you and I.” the way she looks at you causes heat to rush to your cheeks and to look away from her mesmerizing eyes. 

“What does that mean?” You ask with a nervous laugh. 

“All in due time. But please, don’t give your water away for me again,” she says softly, her hand on your cheek as if catching the tears that had fallen last night. 

A shiver runs down your back. “It’s mine to give.” 

———

Part 2

A/N: Like, share and subscribe to my chanel teehee 🥰

[midnightwinterhawk]

The People* have been asking and I have finally done it! (*a handful of friends)

Here is a canon compliant and canon divergent/adjacent list. I capped it at 20 which wounds my soul but that just means I'll need to do a part two sometime.

It also pains me to do it but I'm excluding one of my favorite fics because I've decided to do a modern AU list next.

Dedicated with special thanks to the terrible enablers in the FeydPaul server.

As with anything Dune, mind the tags.

Last Stand of the Sardaukar by AnimationFan2006

2k | Mature | Sardaukar 

The Last Stand of the Sardaukar as witnessed by the Last Bashar...

The desert shall take the weak…

Obsidian and Wisteria by ashleigh

53k | Explicit | FeydPaul

The wedding of Princess Irulan gathers the lords and their families of the Imperium together for the first time in living memory.

Maybe I'll Show You the Way by battle_cat (@fuckyeahisawthat)

27k | Explicit | Paul/Chani

He doesn’t have to be doing this. She was born on the front lines, and she’ll be in this fight until they win or someone kills her. He could have gotten off-world by now, gone to live a safe life somewhere else. But he’s here, beside her.

If you saw that two-minute montage of Paul and Chani falling in love while fighting in a guerrilla war together and thought "I would like a novella-length elaboration on that theme," this is the fic for you. There's drama, action, romance, Fremen culture, politics, and meditations on what it means to be part of a generations-long armed resistance movement. Also, they fuck.

The Duke, The Baron, His Madonna & Her Monster by @darthpeezy

87k | Explicit | FeydPaul

Before he was named Harkonnen and long before he was inducted as Na-Baron, he was Feyd-Rautha Rabban, unimportant second son of an unimportant Count ruling over an unimportant fiefdom. The history of Empire would remember him as the most prolific killer in human history.

At the center of Imperial power, he would encounter another who he was inextricably drawn to. A boy with green eyes and a hawk as his heraldry that challenged Feyd at every step. It would not be the last time Feyd-Rautha met Paul Atreides.

Were the currents to time kinder, it would have ended then. But theirs was a union ten thousand years in the making. The shackles of fate are not quite so easy to break and the Known Universe bled for it.

Or, Feyd is down bad for Paul, Paul is equally obsessed, and everyone else suffers.

what gentle violence (a future untold series) by @desert-mouse

10k | Explicit | FeydPaul

"You would’ve been a prize,” Feyd said. He drew back, hovering above Paul. Their noses brushed. When Feyd spoke again, his raspy voice hummed against Paul’s mouth. “If the Bene Gesserit would’ve had their way, if you’d been mine, Giedi Prime would’ve called you god and Arrakis would’ve called our child messiah.”

“And what would you have called me?” Paul asked.

heshiigiishii by doomcountry

5.4k | Mature | FeydPaul

Feyd-Rautha dreams of his bride.

in its own house (here we aren't, so quickly series) by en passant (@katabaesis)

7.5k | Mature | FeydPaul

the ego is not master in its own house - Sigmund Freud, 1917

Feyd-Rautha does not die in the duel, and things change. Both Paul and Feyd go on some journeys of self-discovery and in some ways, self-annihilation.

I Learned The Voices Died With Me (I Learned The Voices Died With Me series) by @foxgloveinspace

30k | Explicit | FeydPaul

He could still feel sand beneath his finger nails, and despite the fact that he had many dreams come true, none had felt so real, and to have dreams within his dreams was unheard of. He flipped his hands over, resting his palms against his knees, his real skin and flesh knees, warm beneath his hands and slid his eyes shut. He took a deep breath, kept taking them until they didn’t shake him to his core, let himself get lost in the rhythm. When he opened his eyes again, he was still in his room, and nothing had changed. It was early, early enough that even the kitchen servants would just be waking up. He was so much colder than he had been in years. - After a year of being the Padishah Emperor, Paul Atreides wakes up as a seventeen year old again. He doesn't know how he got there, but he's willing to do anything too keep his father from going back to Arrakis, even if that anything is a plan that he had thought of years ago and never thought would come to fruition.

shadowplay by @hootaran

3k | Mature | FeydPaul

“What's this play about again?” Paul asks, remembering some of the details but more so to fill a bit of the uncomfortable space between him and the murmuring guests dotting the lobby, darting their eyes at him from under harsh makeup and brocades. One woman narrows ink-lined eyes at him.

“It's a simple story, really,” Feyd answers softly, following his line of sight and flashing a grin at the woman, who—thankfully—responds with a tight smile and looks away sheepishly. “A fairy tale. A princess is locked away in the mountains and waits her whole life for someone to save her, and eventually someone does. But it…goes wrong. You'll see. It's better experienced than explained.

--

feyd-rautha takes paul to see a harkonnen shadow puppet show on giedi prime.

Like A Slow Blade by @jolinarjackson, @acabspocky

77k | Mature | Paul & Gurney, FeydPaul

After House Atreides suffers a devastating attack by House Harkonnen on Arrakis, a now orphaned Paul is forced into an arrangement to live as Baron Harkonnen’s ward, alongside the Baron’s nephew Feyd-Rautha. With only Gurney remaining as his protection and Feyd-Rautha unexpectedly becoming something like an ally, Paul is determined to find a way to escape before they lose their lives… or themselves.

salt water and sand by @ladybundle

7k | Teen | Feyd & Paul

This planet is too cold and wet. Feyd’s boots sink into the soft, damp sand as he makes his way towards the rocks. The thick mist clings heavily to his body, dampening his jacket. It's like walking through a fucking cloud. When he reaches the rocks, it becomes clear that they are actually a series of small pools with odd sorts of vegetation in the clear water. Feyd crouches beside one curiously, sticking his finger into the pool and then bringing it to his lips. He licks his wet finger, wrinkling his nose immediately at the awful taste.

“You can’t drink salt water.”

Feyd jumps a little at the sound of Paul Atreides’ imperious voice.

the sweetest thing by ladybundle

17k | Explicit | FeydPaul

“You wanted to kiss me before,” Paul says, referring to when they came in. “You like kissing?”

Feyd doesn’t say anything. He wants to reach forward and grab him, pull him close and feel his unblemished skin under his mouth, his teeth. Feyd does like kissing. But he’s not going to say that. He already feels a little unbalanced, cock definitely interested now, breath picking up as Paul moves closer. He smells good.

———

The Atreides and Harkonnen houses are joined by marriage after all.

Corrida by mnabokov

19k | Explicit | FeydPaul 

“It is not a good morning,” Gurney growled, “When the son of Duke Leto is to be married to a Harkonnen.”

lost in the citadel by nighimpossible

11k | Explicit | FeydPaul

Lady Jessica, the royal concubine of Duke Leto and wife in all but name, bore her first child on January 1st, 10175. The Bene Gesserit were pleased with the result and considered Lady Jessica’s mission complete. But there was a great secret that House Atreides held during these first fragile years of the child’s life: though no one knew it at the time, Muad’dib Atreides had been brought into this world. The name Muad’dib was born with has been stricken from the interstellar record, and not a single scholar in present day knows what Duke Leto and Lady Jessica originally selected. What we do know is that by age three, Leto and Jessica started referring to Muad’dib as Paul.

By the time Muad’dib turned five years of age, the Bene Gesserit knew that they had been fooled. 

— From “Manual of Muad’dib” by the Princess Irulan

AFAB Paul Atreides is forced to wed Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen after centuries of careful breeding by the Bene Gesserit falls into place.

A Time to Rise and a Time to Fall (orphan_account)

14k | Explicit | Paul/Duncan

Duncan Idaho's mission to the desert planet of Arrakis to find the Fremen is overshadowed by Paul's prescience dreams.

bloodright (bloodrites series) by @rebelontherocks  

9k | Explicit | FeydPaul

Feyd-Rautha sees the future and it changes everything. Paul finds freedom in captivity.

bloodties (bloodrites series) by rebelontherocks 

13k | Explicit | FeydPaul

“I’ll teach you how to resist the Voice,” he said, turning Feyd-Rautha’s head this way and that, as if examining an animal before deciding whether to buy it. “Why?” “Because it will be more rewarding for us both when you give in of your own free will.” --- Feyd-Rautha is spared, and given new purpose. The blood will flow same as it always has.

And a few of my favorite WIPs (as of post date)

The Archer (The Prey) by doeheart 

14/15 | 63k | Teen | Paul/Duncan

    Duncan reaches up to cup Paul’s face; he brushes a thumb over Paul’s cheek. He tilts Paul’s face this way and that.

    “You look like you never sleep.”

    Paul can barely breathe. He doesn’t know what to say. He hasn't slept, not well, anyway. He wakes up early or in fits in the night, and he can never escape those strange dreams. They’re getting harder to shake during the day.

    Duncan’s hand drops away.

    “You can stay with me,” Duncan offers. “Anytime you need. Tonight, if you want. If it will help you sleep.”

    ***

    Paul has trouble sleeping. More accurately, he has trouble with his dreams. Duncan Idaho notices something off with his boy, and he offers Paul a place to stay. Paul only has to take him up on it.

All Paths Lead Into Darkness by @kalipeda

21/? | 26k | Explicit | FeydPaul

He who can destroy a thing controls it.

This Paul knows.

Yet slowly, despite all of his efforts, he is being corroded away by this thing that exists between them. This terrible, agonizing thing.

Truly, it is the slow blade which penetrates the shield.

Maktub by @lacrymosa-91

8/? | 36k | Explicit | FeydPaul 

The threads the Bene Gesserit weave are intricate and ever enduring, schemes within schemes, contingencies within contingencies.

Jessica gives birth to a son instead of a daughter despite explicitly given orders. It should have altered the path forced upon her, the sacrifice that was to be made of her child in the hands of a brutal and violent house. Instead her choice triggers a dormant Bene Gesserit gene engineering not witnessed for millennia.

—o0o—

Paul can feel himself hyperventilating, mind spinning from the sheer implications of everything he has just heard.

“The Reverent Mother instructed me explicitly. We were to let him touch you. It was a curious sight, the way he held you, almost despite himself…so incongruously gentle for such a brutal creature.” She nearly smiles and Paul shakes with the sudden urge to snarl in her face. “Your fever broke. You settled calm for the first time in weeks.”

“This is a lie-“

“You are connected now. A change has been triggered in you and in the Na-Baron Harkonnen as well. The Reverent Mother says it is in your blood. There is no cure for it.”

[machinesonix]

Okay so chewing my way through Dune for the first time as an adult and there’s this chapter that’s got me wilding out so hard I’m basically just gonna paraphrase it here. Obviously concessions need to be made when switching mediums and I think the films have done a splendid job, but I think they sorta took the teeth out of this one.

When the Atredies first touch down on Dune, Lady Jessica is introduced to their groundskeeper, an elderly Fremen woman called ‘the Shadout Mapes.’ Now Mapes is extremely excited to meet a member of the Bene Gesserit, from which Jessica correctly concludes the ministoria protectiva has been here seeding the local mythology with favorable propaganda. Like a good third of the new movie is screaming about how fucked up all that is, so I will curb my enthusiasm to explain what the funny words mean in exhaustive detail, but suffice to say the Space Mom Cult secretly shapes cultures all across the universe to recognize them as cool people that everybody ought to listen to when they show up. So Jessica immediately code switches into Ominous Witch Mode and shows off some of her preternatural powers of observation by calling out the Shadout Mapes for having a weapon on her. In the movie the knife is a gift. The book has a little more nuance that has me absolutely salivating.

Mapes flips out and shows her the knife, which later we’re gonna learn is made from a worm tooth. She explains that Jessica might be the One, and if she is, the knife belongs to her. If she isn’t then she’s gonna kill Jessica with it because now she already knows too much. And to put her to the test she asks her what the knife is. Jessica hopes to establish her credibility by being well versed in ancient tongues, and intends to call it the ‘maker of death’ because in the language that the word ‘Shadout’ is derived from that’s the idiomatic translation of ‘knife.’

Instead Mapes starts screaming in religious fervor as soon as she hears the word ‘Maker.’ Because the worms make the spice, see. Jessica absolutely triples down on this, and this is what drives me wild. Immediately after narrowly escaping murder by a lucky stroke of linguistics she’s like FUCK YOU, WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE NOT THINKING I WOULD RECOGNIZE THE MAKER. IN FACT, I’M GONNA STAB YOU NOW. Like okay, what she actually does is go ‘Mapes, now that the blade’s been drawn who’s blood is it gonna taste?’ And here I just have to say hats off to the Bene Gesserit for their training in genre awareness. Jessica has absolutely no idea of any of the customs surrounding a crysknife and risks blowing her cover here to flex even harder. She’s right, of course, and lets the Shadout Mapes off with just a scratch. It turns out Fremen have hypercoagulant blood which is not terribly important but still kinda cool.

So to put a bow on all of this, the Shadout Mapes ends up saying something along the lines of ‘She is the One, she will free us.’ This shocks Jessica. She recognizes this line from the ministoria protectiva, and knows that only the super fucked up horrible places wind up with the ‘we will save you from your oppressors’ prophecies. And I just love it because here we've got a microcosm of what this is all about. The ministoria protectiva did exactly what it was supposed to do and saved a Bene Gesserit life because Mapes heard her own religion in what's basically a cold read con. This exploitative power is so intense that Mapes is willing to give Jessica her life; there's no reason for a Fremen to expect somebody is going to show mercy with a crysknife. And then when she's feeling at her highest and mightiest she gets a wake up call. These people have context.

The Fremen don't have their finger on the pulse of galactic politics. They know there is a limited amount of moisture in their atmosphere and that the off-worlders in the palaces are going to take enough of it to keep themselves comfortable. As far as they're concerned, the Atredies are basically Harkonnens with better personal hygiene. The freedom the Shadout Mapes is talking about is freedom from Jessica's family. The ministoria protectiva doesn't exist in a vacuum. The Fremen's history of oppression has become inseparable from what was meant to be a means to control them.

[biblioflyer]

Bad Dune Takes are the Mind Killer

I'm going to type up some more robust thoughts on Dune part 2, but I've seen some subtle bad ideas circulating that are drawn from shallow readings of either the films or the books or both.

First off, anyone who swallows the Bene Gesserit propaganda about their eugenics program needs to be pushed back on. They are NOT sorting humans from animals. The function of the Gom Jabar test (I will look up the proper spelling later and edit it in), doesn't even really seem to have anything to do with the metaphysics of the setting so much as its testing for self discipline. This is something that is nature AND nurture.

The dirty truth of the matter is that no one is a true Tabula Rasa, we do inherit some tendencies genetically, but barring a serious developmental disorder, those are tendencies. Tendencies can be ameliorated, if not even outright disappear in the noise of lived experience and explicit education.

If Feyd Ruatha can pass the Gom Jabar, you know its not actually testing for merit, its testing for a specific set of traits that the Bene Gesserit find useful.

Those traits are part of the ingredients they are seeking for the Kwisatch Haderach (yes, I know, I'll edit it later) but here's the kicker!

Major book spoilers ahead

While this is probably not exclusively the Bene Gesserit's fault, all of these secret societies, all of this obsession with bloodlines, and perfection is a time bomb. Paul is not a white savior. Paul is a labradoodle. He is an incredible endgame of generations of effort but he's a symptom of a broader problem that he himself vaguely glimpses and his son, Leto II, sees in all its terrible truth: the Bene Gesserit and their ilk are reserving autonomy for themselves, perhaps even at the genetic level, and trying to breed complacency into "the commons." The ones they regard as "animals" unfit for and incapable of self direction. People who are only fit to be ruled.

Sound familiar?

Its feudalistic "divine right of kings" merged with eugenics.

AKA fascism.

Paul and Leto II become despicable tyrants and authorial fiat would seem to indicate they are trapped by a sort of accelerationist framing of the problem. The end result of the millennia of power brokering in the background by all of these secretive societies and open monarchism is a humanity that is doomed. One way or another, it will be snuffed out. Whether by a total war, plague, or collapse of civilization.

This is why I say that the Bene Gesserit endgame is labradoodles. Pretty? Yes. Companionable? Sure. But like many, many, many designer breeds very, very lacking in genetic diversity.

This is what selective breeding gets you. Its why Leto II foresees the need to provoke a "Great Scattering." To ensure humanity exists in so many places, in so many different genetic and cultural forms that it cannot be subjugated by even the most charismatic and supernaturally powerful tyrant - not even by himself - and incapable of being extinguished by any plague or natural disaster. Because consolidation into too narrow and tight of a socio-cultural-political footprint means when (not if) that civilization screws up epically, it brings everyone down with it.

So if Roddenberry believed in the end of history, as expressed by the Federation: a society that is not incapable of error but IS capable of introspection and correction in the wake of error such that it is extremely unlikely to collapse from its own errors and contradictions. Then Herbert seems to be positing that history has no end. It will be one damn thing after another for all time and his implicit solution is that we desperately need diversity: genetic diversity and cultural diversity otherwise a self anointed superior sect of schemers and intriguers will get us all killed in the end by making us docile and homogeneous in order to make us more useful: to them.

Herbert also is suggesting that events like the Fremen Jihad is a likely bit of blowback from such consolidation. That human beings (the very same the Bene Gesserit regard as animals) naturally crave autonomy, dignity, and the essentials of life and if you press these things, the result will be a socio-political nuclear explosion.

I don't know if Herbert was an accelerationist. But it doesn't really matter because this leads me to the second bad take:

The Jihad and the Golden Path are not good, actually. Authorial Fiat dictate that they are necessary because authorial fiat dictates that human civilization in Dune has become so consolidated and bent to the whims of shadowy schemers that any attempt to wrest control away and return it to "normal" people, if indeed that is even possible given the technologies and superhumans running around, will result in such disorder and chaos that it be, functionally, genocide even if it is not genocide in intent.

The Jihad itself is also a consequence of the Great Man relying on people who only see a sliver of the overall project and interpret it through their own prism. That prism being one of anger, resentment, and a desire to see others conform to their worldview in order to ensure they are never again under anyone's boot.

Authorial fiat dictates that by the time Paul is born, there's no way back. No way to unwind all of this mess. The systems and structures are too complex, too interdependent. The Bene Gesserit, the Face Dancers, and everyone else I'm forgetting have too many contingency plans to fall back on. Not even a psychic can pull the Jenga pieces of civilization out delicately enough to restack them without the whole thing coming apart, not if he has to rely on millions of people with an axe to grind against the civilization he's trying to reform, a civilization that spent millennia trying to subjugate the Fremen or drive them into extinction.

But I maintain accelerationism is bad. You're not psychic. I'm not psychic. There's no Kwisatch Haderach lurking in the background to see what comes next. If you burn it all down, there might be a flourishing of dignity and freedom on the other side or it might be extinction because some other "cabal" will just take over and do the same things only meaner and dumber.

So if not accelerationism then what?

Federationism.

Introspection always. Seeking reform and equity before the power structures get too entrenched that gambling on a Great Scattering following in the wake of genocidal messiahs start seems like a good idea.

I'm not dunking on Dune to build a motte and bailey around Star Trek. I love Dune, but people tend to fixate on icky parts and call them good, when the whole point was don't let society get so bad you need to cross your fingers and hope the God Emperor is secretly an enlightened genocidal tyrant who is waiting for you to get restive enough to strike him down as part of some harebrained scheme to generate so much historical trauma it inoculates humanity against tyranny for all time.

Which of course, is a false premise. Herbert may or may not have known this in the mid-20th century, but we live in a world where 5-6 generations later, everything we were supposed to learn from and never repeat about tyranny, fascism, eugenics, and being disinterested in how and why there came to be fighters in difficult to pronounce faraway lands who seem to be rather upset with us, is now a thing that has to be taught and can be disputed and debated.

[k1ttyuhhh]

Bride

Atreides!Reader x Feyd Rautha Harkonnen

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Chapter II

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The sound of footsteps echoed through the hallway. Shuffling feet, hushed voices. Or not. Some did not bother to talk quietly.

Whispers of shocking news coursing around the keep.

“-married to a Harkonnen..-”

“..terrible, terrible news-”

“I heard that the young mistress..-”

Gasps and shushing being uttered was as common as the rain on Caladan the past week, it seems.

Specifically, the young Miss did not exit her room if not directly summoned. Rumors that she was sulking, plotting an escape, or anything else did not help with the recent news of her arranged marriage.

Most of the servants avoided entering your room as they would hurry to tell everyone how depressed you had been. It was more of a mix of anxiety and sheer fear, but nonetheless not aiding your situation.

Paul has been great company, bringing you most meals and eating next to you. You enjoyed spending some time with your cousin, as it was likely he'll never be able to contact you once you’re shipped off to the hell hole.

News of who your betrothed would be had not arrived yet, but still, you were still quietly hoping it would not end up being Glossu Rabban.

The Bene Gesserit witches seemed to be coming to your home planet much more often these days. Always one or two spotted around your home. Watching.

But who?

Assuming it was you, no reason could be found except maybe a plot for escape. Your aunt? You knew she loved you very much but would not do anything to stop them. She had already disobeyed direct orders by birthing Paul, or so you have heard.

It was all irrelevant anyways. It was as if you could feel the phantom touch of the cursed promise on the nape of your neck. Quietly hovering there, the disgusting breath of it making you nauseous.

Your room felt eerily empty as you looked at it thoroughly. Almost naked. One of the things the cursed witches made you do was pack. Clothes, belongings, everything was packed.

They were ready to just ship you off as a moment’s notice. Why was this marriage so urgent to them? Why you, out of all people?

Your parents’ will. They had offered it to you to read, but you declined at the sight of dried brown blotches on it. A digital version was promptly sent to you, with no blemishes. Kindness? Or a silent reminder?

The doors to your room opening abruptly startled you, as it took quite some force to open them as swiftly as your guest did.

Paul stood in the doorway, looking at you with a wild glint in his eyes. You stood up from your place on the bed as he nodded quietly.

“A message from Geidi Prime has arrived. My parents and the witches are holding a meeting, I was told to notify you, you will be told as soon as they finish.”

He approached you, sadness taking over his gaze as he embraced you. You returned it, reveling in what could be one of the last moments with your dearest cousin. Your best friend. Your other half.

It was more than probable the beasts wouldn't allow you contact with family.

Paul was breathing deeply, you felt the rapid beats of his heart. Frustration. Fury. Pain. Anxiety. It pained you to see him like this.

For years you spied on whatever lessons Jessica had with him, as she was insistent to not include you. Paul would usually tell you afterwards anyways, but it did not have the same effect.

You spied in on them as a child, learning some of the witch-teachings. How to pitch your voice to make someone do your bidding, how to speak in secret languages known only to some and much more. Hopefully enough to help you survive when they throw you to the dogs.

Paul let go of you, holding onto your hand.

“I know my mother did not birth you, but you are and forever will be my sister. My kin. I truly love you as my own, and I will never allow any Harkonnen to lay hands on you, lay his gaze on you the wrong way.”

His eyes screamed fury, a raging promise to the threat looming not so far away. You laid your other hand on top of his.

“I will do my best to make this house proud, brother. I will not allow myself to be walked upon like a doormat by the rabid animals. If they wish to cut me off, my letters will be smuggled to you.”

Paul nodded in approval, smiling the true smile of the duke he would grow to be. A formidable ruler. You envied him a bit, for he did not have deceased parents that decided to marry him off out of lunatic depression.

A knock sounded at your door. You knew who was summoning you even before you stepped foot out of your room, Paul following suit.

As you walked towards your uncle’s council room, you traced the rough rock from which the keep was hewn.

From which your home was hewn.

Caladan.

The place where your heart lay, since birth and until your death. No other planet in the universe could compare to the green, rainy plains of Caladan.

Both you and your cousin remained silent the entire trek to the room. Your fate would be determined in that place in no more than half an hour. Such a small period of time, you thought to yourself. Only a week ago you thought you had all the time in the world.

Tiles that made up the colorful floor beneath seemed so dull coloured in the setting sun as you made your way over to the meeting.

Searching for that pang of horror, of the shock, only for it to be nowhere found in the pits of your stomach was surprising. As if it were a silent reminder this was your duty as an Atreides, and no amount of sulking would change it. Sulking would not prove useful to you anyways.

Your femininity were the chains that bound you to the promise your parents made. In a twisted way you envied Paul, for he could choose what, or rather who he could marry.

The large windows of Caladan castle illuminated the dust in the air, warm light falling in streams on the stone floor. You felt the warm, moist air setting down like a draped curtain over your senses.

A few hooded women stood before the doors of your uncle’s council room. Guarding? Or making sure you came?

It did not matter anyways, running away from this marriage would be considered treason over the Harkonnens, and would surely deepen the feud of your two families, if not even open a war.

You entered the room, your aunt and uncle sitting at the head of the table, the Reverend Mother taking a place to their left.

Mistrust.

You and Paul hot seated to their right, taking note of the metal scroll laying proudly on the table. Unopened. You looked at the blood red wax that held it closed, Harkonnen emblem engraved in it. Angular droplet fiercely staring back at you from the wax. It looked like blood.

Without bothering to ask for permission, you reached for it, snapping open the lid and watching the wax tear from its sides. Sliding out the letter, you skimmed your eyes over its contents.

The room was in stiffening silence, only the steady rhythm of rain trickling on the windows cutting through the silence.

“Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear.”

A clang echoed through Castle Caladan as you tossed the message on the rock hewn table. It bounced miserably a few times, then landed at the hands of your family.

“Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.”

You announced as your uncle and aunt read through the scroll, eyes darting over the text inscribed on its smooth metal surface. The letter was handed over, circling as you sat opposite to the Reverend Mother.

Her eyes glittered like jewels under the layers of veils she wore. Boring into you, as if her arms stretched through your chest and penetrated your very soul.

“Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.”

You repeated, eyes flying to your face. You would not let them see any fear, for sniveling wouldn’t do anything.

You almost felt embarrassed for acting like a child at your family meeting. A shaking mess. You must have appeared a scared little girl.

“I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.”

Paul stood up and left the room. You knew he would be reprimanded for it later, but it made no use to hide how upset he was

Your eyes followed him as he left, your uncle following suit soon. Most probably for show, but still the room remained silent. The doors slammed after them.

Jessica took hold of your upper arm, tugging you with her as you shuffled out of the room, casting one final look at the veiled witch in the Duke’s council room.

She stared back.

____________________________________________

“Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”

The halls echoed as your aunt half tugged, half dragged you to her morning room.

You obeyed.

What else was there to be done? Fight back, scream at the injustice? You weren’t stupid, you knew nothing you did from this day forward mattered.

It was silly, truly.

“Aunt, where are you taking me?”

Jessica stopped in her tracks, casting you a pained look. Her hand took place at your shoulders, giving a comforting squeeze, smoothing out the ruffled fabric of your dress clothes.

“Listen to me carefully, the Reverend Mother has requested to personally test you. It’s of the utmost importance. Remember whose child you are. We see you as our own. Don’t keep her waiting.”

She pushed you forward, the doors to her personal morning room only a few steps away. How had the Reverend Mother gotten here before the two of you?

Don’t keep her waiting.

You opened the door and saw the old crone sitting at your aunt’s desk, the evening light illuminating the river flowing by your castle in shades of pastels through the high windows.

“Sit down.”

Body lurching forward, you found yourself sat in the chair directly in front of the old lady.

“How dare you use the voice on me?” You spit out, hating the Reverend Mother more with every appearance she made. Not only is she disrespecting your aunt by sitting in her chair, but insulting you in this way?

“Put your right hand in the box.”

She ordered, without using the voice this time. Looking down to see a box materialize in her hand out of seemingly nothing, you hesitate. It was tiny, how would your hand fit in it?

“What’s in the box?”

You asked cautiously, looking at the weather worn metal object, green corrosion crusting it. A shudder ran through you at the mere thought of touching such a dirty thing. What if you get an infection from it?

“Pain.”

You saw her hand no longer rested by her side, rather stilling itself next to your neck. A shiny needle glimmering in the dusk.

This test is very important…

Recalling your aunt’s words, you placed your hand into the box. A tingling sensation ran through it, like being pricked.

“At your neck I hold the Gom Jabbar, poisoned enough to give you a quick and silent death shall you move. It is simple, remove your hand from the box, and you die.”

At the sight of the needle you felt a feeling long forgotten stir in the depths of your gut. The blade awakened horrid memories of matted hair, the slit necks…

The prickling sensation shifted to that of numbness, before pain, hot and searing enveloped your entire hand. Any thought before was quickly replaced by that of utter terror.

Your hand was being ripped apart, skin torn and your muscles ripped apart savagely, as if something were gnawing on your bones.

It was agonizing. Soon the pain turned to that of fire, the blazing heat attacking what was left of you. The flames seemed to lick your entire hand, scorching it so deep, burning off the flesh from your bones.

As if the entire flame of the universe was biting at your hand, tearing apart the nerves, pulling at them, seeping into your blood like venom.

You wanted to scream. Tear your vocal chords to shreds with the agony coursing through your arm in rapid beats. Yet only choked, pathetic noises came out.

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? This is an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain and feign death to kill the trapper.”

A wrangled scream finally managed to escape your lungs, the Reverend Mother giving you a look that made you shut up again and push through the fire that surely melted your bones away.

“Silence.”

The cursed jolts of pain seemed to devour your wrist, pulling on the exposed nerves, unraveling your muscle fibers.

Then just like that - it stopped.

“Remove your hand from the box, silly girl.”

You pulled it out as fast as possible, expecting your hand to be missing, a charred mess. Yet - shaking, it was whole, the skin glistening with sweat but otherwise unharmed.

“What is this witchcraft?” Your voice cracked as you asked, throat sore from the little screaming you could accomplish.

“Pain by nerve induction.”

A simple answer, she did not deign you worthy of more. It would have offended you, had you not been preoccupied with checking if your hand is functioning as it should.

Your aunt opened the door, exchanging a few quick, hushed words with the Reverend Mother then watching her leave.

As soon as your figure straightened her arms were there, tightly embracing you. One was stroking your hair as she obviously forced herself not to weep.

“I am so sorry my dear. I did not wish for this to happen, but my hands are tied.”

You hugged her back, tears pricking your eyes. It was nice knowing she did not do this to you willingly.

The sun had long set when she let go of you.

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The dual doors of your bedroom were locked and secure, as now the vulnerability of anyone walking in on you would not be pleasant.

Still shaken from the previous encounter, you calmed yourself by watching droplets of water race down your window as the wind howled outside.

Your wardrobe lay open, almost empty save for a few garments that lay scattered in it and on the floor below.

You were sitting on your bed when the weight of everything seemed to dawn before you.

Or rather, crashes upon your shoulders with such force you fell down between the pillows and layers of sheets, sobbing.

You were off to be married to a sadomasochist freak like cattle for breeding. Is that not what it is? You’re simply a puzzle piece in some grand plan of the Bene Gesserit.

Everything seemed to accumulate to this particular moment in your life. The test, the marriage, everything.

You wished for a minute with your parents before they died, to stop the madness they brought to you. For more time. With Paul, with your uncle, aunt, anyone.

You wished for a normal life.

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[kasagia]

Dancing With The Devil

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: Your whole life revolved around court intrigues, gaining influence, and extracting the darkest secrets from important nobility. As a woman, there wasn't much you could do or count on. Unless you provide yourself with status and position through a good marriage. You've made your life perfect. You had a complete plan and vision for your future—even after the unexpected loss of your fiancé, you managed to rise up and find another good match—until the Na-Baron decided to interfere with it and ruin everything you had been working for. You were about to find out for yourself that dancing with the devil never led to anything good. Even if the consequences of this come after some time... Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; Inspired by: Bridgerton and "Would've, could've, should've" - Taylor Swift Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

"What do you mean by saying that Paul Atreides is dead?"

"Exactly that." Your mother replies with her typical calm, adjusting the crown on her head in the mirror. "He and his family went on a diplomatic mission to Arrakis. They were attacked by… a group of rebels. More specifically, it was probably Sardaukar, but we all know who benefited more from the death of the Atreides." You shudder at the mere mention of the Harkonnens. However, you still can't get over the shock of the revelation you've just heard.

"It is impossible. They couldn't kill them all, after all... what about Caladan? And the plans of the Bene Gesserit? The Emperor would never…"

"The Emperor is not the same man you knew. As he grows older, he grows not in wisdom but in fear. He is more afraid of maintaining his throne than of the good of the empire. And, as we all know, Paul was his most likely successor. So he killed him before he could kill him." She explains this to you, making sure that her appearance is impeccable. She turns from the mirror and nods to the maid, ordering her to give her a coat in your family's colours and embroidered with the decorations and symbols of your house.

"I... are you just trying to tell me that I don't have a fiancé?"

"Unless you want to marry his corpse, yes, that's what I am trying to say to you from the beginning." Your mother snorts in amusement, watching you as you are still in shock, trying to process this unexpected, terrible news. The shock in you slowly gives way to anger. This wasn't how things were supposed to look.

"Mother, you should know how tragic this situation is. After all, the season is almost over; when will I get any suitors? Should I be without any for a year? And then another one? You know perfectly well that most of the descendants of high families have already announced their courtship. Am I supposed to end up as a spinster?"

"Calm down. The season isn't over yet. Since... Caladan has an unstable political situation, Princess Irulan suggested that we take over the main, final celebrations. All you have to do is dress nicely, present yourself well, and catch whatever poor young men come here." You snort mockingly at her feeble attempts to comfort and reassure you.

"I won't have a better husband than Paul. He was the perfect match! Not ugly, easy to control, filthy rich, only son who was supposed to inherit everything—where will you find me another husband like that?" You ask furiously, more concerned about the consequences of his death for you than the fact that you will never meet your fiancé ever again. You couldn't end up as a spinster. You couldn't marry just anyone, either, or, worse, end up as a mere concubine. You didn't spend all these years beautifying your appearance and studying politics, martial arts, economics, and biological sciences to marry some insignificant idiot from an unknown family and planet.

"It's going to be hard, I won't lie, but we'll get through it. We are Y/L/N. We never give up and always achieve our goals. You're too beautiful, darling, to become a spinster. And too smart to marry some insignificant lord."

"You too were, and yet you ended up with my father."

"I married him out of love and love... love makes us do stupid things. But you are smarter than me. You can do much better, I have no doubt about that. We'll give you a week of mourning before we throw the first party. During this time, we will review... available men. To know who to focus on." You nod, agreeing with her plan. You couldn't immediately rush out to find another suitor when your previous one had just been buried beneath the sands of Arrakis. You had to pretend you were crying for him.

It wasn't like you didn't care about Paul at all. You liked him. He was a good conversation partner and a nobel man. But in this situation, you felt more sorry for yourself. You were left with no fiancé, no suitor, and no other alternative.

And if there was anything worse for a woman in this world than death, it was either infertility or becoming a spinster whom no one paid any attention to. You could have handled every other situation perfectly well, but not such humiliation.

Or at least that's what you thought until you crossed paths with the one and only Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.

You stand against the wall, sipping your champagne with probably the sourest expression on your face. The masquerade ball had already started an hour ago and you still couldn't find anyone whose attention you could attract.

You and your mother had looked through... all the possible options, but none of the men who came here were fooled by your sweet swan appearance. And if he did, he proposed after just a few minutes of conversation. You may have been in a desperate situation, but you weren't looking for a desperate man.

Standing against the wall allowed you to take a closer look at the nobles present at the ball. You caught a few rumours and scandalous behaviour—touching too long, stolen kisses, and a few other things—but you didn't feel like thinking about them at all when the vision of your future looked so bleak.

Your bad mood is only fueled by Irulan's presence and how she's clearly having a great time at your funeral. As if she had achieved another one of her many victories. Lucky bitch.

You sigh and place your glass on the tray of a passing servant. You are about to leave the masquerade ball when your attention is caught by a man standing alone on the other side of the room.

His outfit is… unusual. His black coat is finished with sharp metal decorations, making it resemble more of a fancy armour than a classic formal outfit. The black mask completely covers his face and the back of his head, leaving only his full lips and part of his defined jaw to your eyes. 

And you really like those lips. Very much. You decide that today you will test their softness when the stranger's cold blue eyes meet yours. A shiver of excitement runs through you as you imagine the things you could do with this intoxicatingly beautiful man. And maybe it's the alcohol you drank or your pathetic longing to be the centre of someone's attention that makes you feel brave enough to approach him.

As you slowly approach him and look at him closely, you realise what he's disguised as. The black swan. It was so good for you that you decided to be the white one tonight.

However, the man suddenly disappears in the crowd of people. You frown and look around, searching for him, but somehow you can't. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. You freeze when you suddenly feel someone's presence behind you. A shiver of excitement runs down your spine as the man's husky whisper echoes in your ear.

"Looking for someone, my lady?" You turn your head to meet the same icy blue irises up that were watching you from across the room a moment ago.

Goosebumps run through you as his gaze inexplicably hypnotises you. This could be your opportunity; you just had to play your cards well and make him more interested in you. The circumstances and scenery were perfect—downright romantic, like from a book. You just had to make this handsome devil equally enchanted by you. You must have caught his attention if he decided to play with you and chase you to get to you first.

You also need to find out who owns those captivating lips and eyes whose colour rivals the ocean waves. Oh, and how you desperately wanted to immerse yourself in them...

"My lord." You curtsy, turning fully to face him to study him even more carefully. He was tall, with a muscular figure visible under his clothes that you wanted to explore with your fingers. You lick your lips, shifting your gaze back to his, and catch him assessing you with his eyes, just like you had just done with him. "I couldn't help but notice how... coincidentally, we fit together with our choice of outfits."

"Indeed, we do. Although I personally think you would look better in black, little swan." The nickname he gives you and the arrogance in his voice make you snort mockingly, raising an eyebrow at him defiantly as you become even more fascinated by this mysterious man.

"Why is that?"

"You may look like a tiny, innocent bird in this white, pretty dress, but your eyes—your eyes give it all away, my lady. You can try to deceive men with this... undoubtedly beautiful sight for the eyes, but not all of us fall so easily to the false mirage—maybe only lesser men—but you're not desperate enough to seek the attention of a mere duke or count, who would be easily led by you, are you?"

"And who are you to make such bold assumptions?" You ask furiously, glaring at him as he gently strokes the collar of your dress with his fingertip, playing a little with the white feathers that were attached to it. He smirks, his white teeth gleaming dangerously, reminding you of the smile of a wolf before it catches its prey.

"Definitely not a lesser man." He replies, undaunted by your anger. His hand slides from the collar of your dress over your shoulder as he grabs your gloved hand and presses a soft kiss on it, and you can barely keep yourself from closing your eyes and giving in to the pleasant feeling of having his plush, full lips so close and yet so far from your skin. "May I? I believe that this beautiful dress will look better while moving…"

At this point, you should refuse. Thank him for his company and go find a... more suitable one. But you can't deny that he's read you accurately so far and that he's touched a part of you that you haven't shown to anyone. You were too curious to just let him go; you wanted to stay with him longer and see what would come of this acquaintance with him.

So you nod and let him lead you to the dance floor. A few heads turn towards you, but you can't reach anything other than him, and the feeling of his larger hand gently holding yours in a strange way makes your heart flutter slightly.

You feel like he's put a spell on you, and strangely, you don't want to break out of it at all.

His eyes never leave yours. You're almost dizzy from how intensely he's looking at you. He places his hand on your waist, pulling you a little closer to him. He holds you tight enough so that you can feel his touch on you, and it isn't painful for you. He leads you into a dance with incredible grace for a man, spinning you around to the rhythm of the music.

He's so close to you that you can smell his scent, which is as addictive as his burning attention. The smell of anise, musk, and hot spices assaulting your nostrils makes you involuntarily lean towards him, wanting to be as close to him as good manners allow. However, you know that if you spend another few minutes longer in his presence, all your mother's teachings will be forgotten in favour of... getting closer to this compelling man.

"So what do you believe in then? If you don't believe in coincidence? Destiny?" You ask, trying to shake off this strange feeling of loss of control he's giving you.

And you almost fail miserably, barely keeping yourself from blushing as his low chuckle makes you burn even more for him. You had to find some flaw in him—something that would turn you off if you didn't want to lose your mind completely, because for now, everything about this man was sinfully pleasant.

"We create our destiny. Don't you agree?"

"Sometimes things are beyond your control, my lord." You disagree with him, keeping your searching gaze on him as his hands move to your hips.

You bite your bottom lip as he lifts you up in one fluid motion, following the steps of the dance. The ease with which he shifts you and spins you so that your back is against his chest as he sets you down on the floor again makes your cheeks blush as you think of all the ways you could use his large, strong hands. You feel like a horny teenager in her first season. And you don't like it at all.

"And sometimes, all we need to do is take a step and reach out for what is rightfully ours." He whispers in your ear, wrapping his hands around you, never stopping his movements.

You swallow thickly as he places your joined hands on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your bare collarbone. You bite your tongue, trying to hold back a moan when you feel the rough skin of his hands, confirming your suspicions that his toned physique is built from years of training and fighting. This fuels your desire for him even more.

"Possible. But our reputation suffers because of it. You can't escape the eyes of society. No matter how hard you try, my lord." Your eyes fall on the couples dancing around you.

You gasp when he suddenly wraps his arm around your waist and turns you around, forcing you to face him again. You almost bump into his chest, completely unprepared for such a sudden move from him. He gives you a mischievous smirk and a wink, amused at how he managed to catch you off guard and off-balance. You purse your lips, causing his eyes to shift to them.

"Do you know what freedom you can achieve when you throw off the yoke of your reputation? How many opportunities are open to you?" He whispers hoarsely, leaning towards you. You lift your chin, meeting his gaze as your heart beats frantically against your chest. You get the feeling he has in his mind... something much less pure and decent. And you almost trembled in his arms with excitement.

"Do you know how many doors close in front of you? No one wants to associate with a vile person rejected by society."

"Oh, but those nefarious always seem to get their attention, don't you think? They are invited out of sheer curiosity about how they will behave and what exciting and forbidden things they will do. They are the source of the most virulent gossip; you won't deny it, right, little swan?"

"Possible. Are you one of them?" You ask, curious about his identity.

He gives you a mysterious, mocking smirk as he chuckles throatily. He leans down and brushes his lips against your ear. You sigh as his lips press a small kiss to your earlobe, your heart racing as you feel him so close to you. You wait in suspense for what he will do next, completely oblivious to the people around you, who, fortunately, are too busy with themselves to notice what is happening around them. You'd never been so happy about wearing a mask before, even though it was a way to protect your identity and allow yourself... to do a little more in such a public place.

"Oh darling… what if I told you that I'm the worst of them all?" He whispers seductively, biting your ear. You gasp, digging your fingers into his arm, holding on to anything as he plays cruelly with you.

At this point, you should thank him for this dance, turn around, and find another company. But there's something... magnetic about this man that draws you closer and closer to him.

Maybe it's the thrill of the unknown—the excitement of how different this man seems from the rest of the people here. And even though your mind is screaming at you, and rightly so, to back away before you burn yourself with the fire that burns from him, you want to follow him like a moth, desperately wanting to bathe in the glow of these new sensations he is giving you.

So, without thinking about it for a long time, you grab his hand and lead him out of the room. Surprisingly, he obediently follows you, not questioning you as the two of you walk through various corridors. You lead him towards the exit—straight to the palace gardens, where there should be much fewer people who couldn't... overhear you.

You drag him into the maze, taking him to one of the dead ends. Before he can say anything, you lean in and kiss him lustfully. You moan at the feeling of his soft lips caressing yours, and you tighten your hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. The metal trim of his outfit digs into you, but you ignore the feeling, completely absorbed by the way his tongue slips into your waiting mouth.

Under different circumstances, if it were known to him who you were and there was no mask covering half of your face, you would never have dared to take such a... bold step. But now, with him so close to you and your identity safe under the white feather mask, you moan into his mouth, letting yourself bask in the feeling of desire.

You and Paul... fooled around a few times, but the furthest you went was touching each other. But with this man, the man whose name you didn't know and who was currently sucking the air from your mouth, you felt completely different.

All your nerves were on fire. Every inch of you was begging for his touch and undivided attention. You couldn't help but moan and melt into his hands as he possessively tightened his grip on your hip, pulling you much closer to his body.

Your bodies fit together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle, and you couldn't help but wonder if your souls were also two halves that fit together thoroughly.

Just when you feel like you can't go without air any longer, his mouth stops attacking yours, instead caressing and nipping at the skin of your jaw and moving to your neck.

Suddenly, the corset you're in becomes too tight, and breathing becomes increasingly difficult for you as his lips mark your neck, making your already lust-crazed heart beat faster. You whine, your hands tracing his muscular torso, as you find yourself in extreme conflict. You know you should push him away and that you shouldn't let him mark you so clearly, but on the other hand, he brings you so much pleasure and makes you shiver just from the feeling of his lips on your neck. You dread to think what he would do to you if he moved a little further south of your body—if he kneeled in front of you and did to you things you only read about in the privacy of your chamber.

You quickly cover your mouth with your hand as you are about to scream when his teeth dig into your neck. He sucks on the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a clear mark on you. Your eyes widen in shock when you hear a threatening growl from him. His hand grabs yours tightly, removing it from your mouth, and his icy blue eyes flash with anger, giving you a furious glare.

"Hold back your moans and screams one more time, and I will make sure the people in the palace hear you crying because of me, little swan. And believe me, I can make it only pleasant for me, so don't test my patience and mercy and be a good girl for me." He growls, tightening his grip on your hand that he pinned to the hedge behind you.

He kisses you hard, chastisingly, as he takes a step towards you, closing any space between you. Your breasts rub against his chest as he presses against you, and you think you can feel his hardness through the layers of your clothes.

A short gasp escapes you as his hand travels beneath the layers of your dress. His fingers take their time caressing the skin of your legs, slowly climbing up to where you needed to have him as soon as your eyes fell on him. You decide to compromise with him and pull him into a kiss so as not to attract unwanted attention from any of the guests.

You gasp as his fingers brush against your clothed core. His raspy chuckle as he discovers the undeniable flood between your legs makes you blush with embarrassment and anger. Your breathing quickens as you reach out to grab his cock, squeezing him painfully tight for teasing you. A loud moan leaves his lips swollen from kissing, making you want to extract other, equally temptingly beautiful sounds from him.

But before you can do anything, he drops to his knees in front of you and lifts the folds of your white dress. You shiver, feeling his breath between your legs as he takes his time stroking your thighs, caressing them with his soft lips.

You moan as he sucks and bites the skin of your inner thighs, teasing you as he blatantly ignores your needy pussy. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, biting your lip as you try to pull him to your clothed core. He growls while spanking your pussy. You scream at the sudden, burning sensation, your legs shaking, so only his strong hands are keeping you upright.

You tilt your head back, resting it against the hedge, and moan softly as he presses a teasing kiss on your clothed core. His fingers gently slip under your panties, only to rip the fabric off of you in one quick movement.

You sigh as his nose brushes against your folds as he inhales your scent, stuffing your torn panties into his pants pocket. His tongue gently and teasingly tastes your wetness, making you even more frustrated. You push aside the fabric of your dress and take his hand that was exploring the curve of your ass and pull it to your pussy which is screaming for his attention.

His chuckle stimulates your clit, making you moan and pushing your hips into him in a desperate attempt to find a release. He growls angrily at your impatience and grabs your hips in an iron grip, positioning you to his liking and plan.

You hold your breath as his fingers gently enter you, soothing the burning feeling of emptiness inside you. His tongue plays with your clit, sucking every last drop of your juices out of you, as if he's as addicted to your taste and sounds as you are to the feeling of his touch and the way he fills you.

You feel your orgasm building. You close your eyes in blissful relief, allowing yourself to moan, not caring if anyone can hear you. Your fingers dig into his neck. He growls against your pussy as you draw his blood from him and intensifies his ministrations. His fingers move in and out quickly as he sucks on your most sensitive spot, as if he's trying to mark you there and leave you a hickey there.

Your fingers run up his neck. You want to pull his hair—hurt him as much as he hurts you. Your fingertips find their way beneath the black fabric of his mask covering his head, but when you reach out to grab his hair, you're met with bare skin.

And then everything falls into place in your head.

When the realisation comes to you, you freeze, you lose all feeling, and all you can do is stand there and think about who you let under your dress and between your legs.

Harkonnen. You were being eaten by a fucking Harkonnen, and judging by his body structure, voice, and the guest list you've looked through hundreds of times, by one and only Feyd-Rautha, Na-Barron of Giedi Prime.

You tremble, not at all because of the feeling of how his fingers and tongue work continuously on your orgasm, intensifying your sensations as he lets out soft moans at the taste of you, but because pure terror overwhelms your whole body. You unconsciously tighten the hug on his neck, which only increases the intensity of his… efforts on your wet folds, as he wants to take you over the edge.

You take advantage of the fact that he's too... distracted and push him away from you. You grab the skirt of your dress and run fast, as far away from him as possible. Your heart races as you hear his soft growl before, to your even greater dismay, he chases after you.

You run through a maze, trying to lose Harkonnen among many paths, hoping he will reach a dead end and lose your trail, or at least to find some group of people. After all, he won't be able to do anything to you in front of witnesses—or maybe he could?

You tremble at the thought that the same hands that cut the throats of servants and concubines, hands that killed prisoners in the arena and people in battle, touched you and were the cause of your... your pleasure.

How stupid you were! How could you allow yourself to be seduced by Harkonnen and carried away by your stupid emotions and desires? You mentally curse him, his family, and Paul Atreides, whose death made you have to chase men again to find a suitable husband. And especially you curse how amazing and extraordinary you felt under the touch of this bloodthirsty beast, whose house has been nefarious for centuries.

You run forward, not daring to turn around to see if he's still chasing you. You're so lost in your thoughts and so scared that you accidentally run into someone. You gasp as a hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from falling. You have a heart attack, thinking that it could be him and that he has somehow outsmarted you. But when you look up, you don't see blue irises, but green ones.

"Forgive me, my lord. I didn't mean to..." Your words stop as you take a closer look at the man. He wasn't wearing a mask; he apparently abandoned it when he entered the garden, and you have to say, he's... handsome. Very.

“Of course you didn't mean to. You couldn't see me when you were running so fast, which makes me wonder: From what are you running away, my lady?"

"I... To be honest, I'm running away from my maids. And that ball. It's just… too much excitement for one evening." You lie, quickly making up an excuse.

Obviously, you won't tell him that you're being chased by the horny Harkonnen heir, with whom you were ALONE in the garden. That would be a scandal. Just talking to this man now could be considered that way too... let alone what you allowed Feyd-Rautha to do to you.

"I think so too. Viscount Y/L/N throws good parties, but… they're a little too loud for my liking. Too vibrant." He comments, offering his arm to you. You can't help but smile as you place your hand in the crook of his arm.

Luckily, he leads the two of you in the opposite direction you were running from. You see that his brown and gold mask is tied to his arm, and on his finger he has... the ring of the Luwael family, a close family of Emperor Corrino. You just talked to the emperor's cousin, the pretender to his throne since he has no son.

You can't believe how lucky you are.

"Tell me about it, I've been enduring it since I was 15." You say it jokingly, giggling when you see his eyes widen as he realises he's gossiping about your father, and you think he looks adorable and cute in his state of little panic.

"Lady Y/N Y/L/N?" He asks, shocked. You nod and reach for the ribbon of your mask, removing it. You see his pupils dilate slightly as he takes in your appearance, his cheeks turning pink—whether from embarrassment or lust, you don't know, but you still like his reaction to you. "My apologies, I didn't mean to offend…."

"You did not." You interrupt him quickly with a charming smile. "It's... refreshing to be able to talk to someone who has similar opinions and feelings. At least when it comes to those terrible balls."

"Sometimes I feel like they force us to participate just to have something to gossip about later."

"Don't you like gossip?" You ask curiously, raising an eyebrow as you continue your walk through the gardens. You completely forget about Harkonnen and your... mistake, as you are trying to gain the interest of the man next to you.

This could be your big chance.

True, you heard that he and Irulan were to marry so that power would remain in Corrino's hands, but... if you make him want you, no one will stop him from taking you as his wife.

"I don't like court intrigues. The way ladies throw themselves at lords just to gain a higher title."

"Maybe for you men, marriage is more than just a financial transaction, but unfortunately for most of us, it's all about stability. The security of our lives is the most important thing here, and love—love is a complex and difficult thing; most often, unfortunately, it is only in books. Won't you agree?"

"Possible. But I would rather my wife love me than the power I give her." You smile in understanding. So you have a romantic in front of you... You have to adjust your role well, so you keep your true thoughts to yourself. You innocently hang your head, feigning uncertainty.

"This is completely understandable. Don't all of us dream about it? Have someone of your own, trusted, to whom you can confide all your dreams and fears without being afraid of being laughed at or ignored?" You ask, turning your head to look at him as you ask him your final question.

By the way he watches you with a burning light in his eyes, you know you've come to the right place and have successfully sold your image of a weak, defenceless woman dreaming of a real courtly romance. Pathetic. However, you will do anything to get a husband, you'll even pretend to be a helpless lamb.

"Yes... I assume that's what all of us want. Maybe expect the Harkonnens." You laugh at his joke, feeling very awkward at the same time as the memory of a certain Harkonnen's lips comes back to you.

You curse yourself for how damn good he made you feel. They may not have known love, but if they were all like Na-Baron, they knew damn well how to please their women—a thing you couldn't say about all the lords of the great houses.

You and Lord Luwael walk around the garden for a while before you both decide to head back to the ballroom. You put on your masks, and the man escorts you back, all the while being a perfect gentleman, including dancing, which he later asked you for.

You have fun maintaining your image as a hopeless romantic who wants to find true love and break away from the courtly conventions that overwhelm you—a perfect match for the emperor's heir. He doesn't tell you his identity until the end of the evening, but you don't mind. You know you've charmed him. And that he will seek your company at the next events of this season.

What you don't know is that certain icy-blue irises are watching you two furiously as you are led back into the ballroom by Lord Luwael. You also don't know that the Harkonnens are persistent and ruthless people who can wait years for their plans to be implemented, and that their devilish Na-Baron is truly the worst of them all...

Or that Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen decided a long time ago that you would become his wife. It didn't matter what he had to do or how to achieve his goal.

In the future, you will often regret this night and dancing with the Harkonnen devil. Very often.

~9 years earlier~

“They say he killed his mother. That his uncle and brother are training him to become a killer beast. That he is now devoid of any emotion except anger and bloodlust, and Paul told me that he apparently even has concubines.” Irulan gossips with you as the two of you watch in the distance as Feyd-Rautha trains in the courtyard.

The emperor invited several greater families to discuss something. You weren't too interested about it. Your mother simply packed your things and said you were leaving for a week. But you were happy. You had the opportunity to play with other nobles' children and it was definitely a nice break from listening to your parents' constant arguments.

"Nonsense. He's our age. Let's ask him if he wants to play with us." You decide and stand up to walk over to the hairless boy. Irulan grabs your hand tightly and pulls you back to your hiding place behind the pillar.

"He is a Harkonnen, Y/N. They don't play." She says and leans out to look at him. He swings his sword several times, making several quick movements and turns.

"But he isn't like them. He grew up on Lankiveil. Besides, I still remember him when he had blonde hair. And Harkonnens have no hair, so..."

"Baron made him his heir. Of course he had to... make himself look like them." She interrupts you, wrinkling her nose in disgust. You shiver slightly at the mere mention of the baron and nod thoughtfully.

"Pity. His blonde curls were pretty." You comment and lean out to look at him. You hold your breath as you make eye contact with him. He looks at you coldly, not moving an inch. You wave at him, giving him a hesitant smile. He stares at you for a while longer before he turns on his heel, his back to you, as he continues his training as if nothing had happened. "Still, we should have asked him. He looks quite lonely."

"NO. I won't be nice to him. If my mother gives a son to my father and I have to marry this… Harkonnen, I will throw myself from the tower."

"Why from the tower?" You ask, confused, frowning at the girl.

"I don't know. This is what the main characters in books do when something terrible happens to them. They say they will throw themselves off the tower."

"I prefer it when they fight the dragon." You say this, glancing at the boy again. You don't know why, but something just wouldn't let you walk away and leave him, although you really want to play with Paul, Irulan, and the other kids. You find yourself much more wanting to play with this strange boy.

You frown when you see him accidentally cut his hand. He doesn't cry like Paul did when you slammed his hand in the door. Instead, he puts his mouth on the wound and sucks out the blood. He tears off a piece of his clothes, wraps it around his hand, and continues training.

And somehow, it makes you make a decision.

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Irulan hisses at you as you pull your hand from her grasp and take a step towards the courtyard.

"Fighting the dragon. Wish me luck." You answer, and without looking back, you head towards the training boy. His pale, bald head almost gleams in the sun, and you can't help but wonder if his lack of hair makes him less tolerant of the sun's heat.

When you are close to him, you stand still, not wanting to accidentally impale yourself on his sword. He notices you out of the corner of his eye, stops swinging his sword, and turns towards you, looking at you closely.

"Hi." You say as you wave at him.

"Lady Y/N." His voice is slightly hoarse, as if he had sandpapered it. You frown, surprised by such a formal greeting. Usually, only adults greet you like that.

"Um... my lord?" You answer hesitantly and shake your head, trying to ignore how strange he's acting. "Do you want to join us? We are playing hide and seek." You say, pointing your thumb at the pillar you and Irulan were hiding behind a few seconds ago.

"It's fun for kids." He replies dismissively and starts swinging his sword again.

"Are you not one?" You ask in surprise, still looking at him. He growls in annoyance and turns towards you, giving you a furious glare as you interrupt him.

"No. I am a man. And men are supposed to fight in battles and train to become stronger."

"Why?" You ask and frown at him, following him as he walks over to the fountain where he left his water and towel. He wipes the beads of sweat from his head, giving you a confused gaze.

"To keep their women and country safe." He replies like it's an obvious thing everyone should know.

"Well... do you have any in danger right now?" This time it's him who furrows his hairless eyebrows at your weird question. He thinks for a moment, observing you, and then shakes his head.

"No."

"Great! Then you can play with us." You say it excitedly and grab his hand. He hisses under your touch, and it's only then that you realise you've grabbed his injured hand. You want to apologise, but his mad glare quickly silences you.

"I already told you that I am not going to play any stupid game, woman!"

"Hey! I am not a woman, I am a girl! And you are a boy, so stop pretending to be an adult and play with us." You respond to his furious growl with your own and shoot him your evil glare. But instead of caring about your outburst and maybe even complying with your demands, he just laughs, making you even angrier.

"I will do whatever I want. You won't order me, little bunny. It doesn't matter how cute you look when you're angry." He mocks you and turns his back on you. You stamp your foot, furious at his behaviour and the fact that he is dismissing you.

"I doubt that sitting all alone is what you prefer." You say, unconsciously hitting his sweet spot. You see him tense as he reaches for his sword. However, his attitude quickly turns indifferent again as he turns his head to glance at you briefly.

"You should go."

"Why?"

"Before anyone notices me with you. Why are you asking so many questions?" He asks irritably, and he starts his training again.

Even though he tries to ignore you, you can see him glancing at you every few moments as you continue to stand there, watching as he swings his sword and cuts through the air.

"Is that yours?" You ask him curiously, sitting on the edge of the fountain.

"Yes. My uncle gave it to me for my 10th birthday." He replies proudly and stops for a moment to talk to you. You smile, staring longingly at the metal blade.

"My gave me dolls. Again. It's so boring." You grumble, keeping your eyes on his weapon. "How do you play with it?"

"I don't play. I train." He replies in annoyance and rolls his eyes at you. But you can see in his eyes that he's not mad at you at all. On the contrary, he wants to continue talking to you. That's why you act more boldly.

"Whatever. How do you train with it? Can you show me?"

"These are not things for a woman." His rejection doesn't dampen your excitement at all. On the contrary, you want to train with him even more, to do something that your mother forbade you to do a long time ago.

"Well, that's a good thing that I am a girl, then. Can you show me? Please? My dad wanted to train me, but my mom didn't agree. She is stupid." You complain, causing him to chuckle. You smile widely, thinking that he looks better when he's cheerful and not with that dark and grim scowl.

"She is. You should know how to protect yourself. Your father won't be fighting for your safety forever. And with that attitude, I doubt you will ever find a husband to protect you."

"Good. I don't want one. Can you show me then?" You ask, ignoring the fact that he's trying to insult you. You look up at him with your beautiful, pleading eyes and stick out your lower lip.

He watches you for a moment, frowning as he feels his heart beat faster when you give him that cute look he simply can't resist. He sighs, barely taking his eyes off of you, and nods.

"Fine. But only if you stay away from me after that."

"Okay." You reply excitedly and nod enthusiastically. He smiles slightly and stands behind you, helping you maintain a good stance with your sword.

"Hold it like that." He says, adjusting your grip on the handle.

"It's so heavy! How can you hold it and move?" You almost collapse under the weight of the sword, but you try to hold it the way he shows you. He laughs huskily, making you smile.

"You can get used to it with time. Now. I will show you some basic movements."

He trains with you and shows you some tricks and moves. And although he was rough and rude towards you at first, over time you both enjoyed each other's company.

You manage to make him laugh a few times, and each time you count it as a small victory considering how grumpy he was. He's obviously extremely fascinated with fighting and seems more than willing to teach you a few things. You think this "training" is fun—at least until you accidentally injure yourself.

"Ouch!" You scream and almost drop his sword. Luckily, he caught it quickly, before you could cut your foot. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and takes your injured hand in his.

"You're as clumsy as you look, little bunny." He mumbles and brings your hand to his mouth.

He licks up your blood like he did with his and tears off a piece of your dress. He wraps the cloth around the wound and looks closely at your hand. You frown, disgusted that he's licking your blood, but you don't move. Well... not until you realise this insult.

"Hey! You hurt yourself a while ago, too. Besides, it's my first time." You are angry at him, pulling your hand away and crossing your arms.

"Because I had an unexpected audience that was talking passionately about me behind my back."

"Oh… I'm sorry. It was mean." You respond contritely, not realising how he must have felt when everyone around him assumed the worst about him and didn't want to be around him.

"I got used to it." He replies in an emotionless tone and looks away from you, almost looking like a beaten dog, even though he tries hard not to show it. And you feel terribly sorry for him.

"You shouldn't. You are cool. When you take the stick out of your ass." You joke, and he chuckles. You smile at him, but his good mood is suddenly interrupted by something. His face turns serious, his muscles tense, and you only hear the growl of some animal before Feyd pushes you behind him.

A large hunting dog runs up to you. He lunges at Feyd, knocking him down. The dog bites him, and Feyd screams in rage. He tries to plunge his sword into the dog's side, but it clamps its jaws on the Feyd's arm, immobilising him.

You gasp in dismay. You reach for a rock and throw it at the dog, trying to distract it. You succeed, but before you can think about what to do next, the dog lunges at you.

You land on your back and use your elbows to get up, but the dog is quickly above you. He growls, foam dripping from his muzzle onto you, and you can only stare in horror into his eyes. You gasp when, just as he is about to sink his teeth into you, Feyd's sword suddenly pierces the dog.

You lie on the ground, unable to move, as you feel the animal's blood dripping onto your dress. Feyd pushes the dog off of you and gives you a worried look.

"Are you hurt?" He asks and offers you his hand. He helps you get back on your feet, looking for any wounds. You shake and shiver as you look at the dead animal. Feyd notices this and places his hand on your cheeks, making you look into his eyes as he turns your back to the animal's body.

He opens his mouth to repeat the question, but freezes when you throw yourself into his arms and hug him tightly, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you sob softly. Feyd holds you tentatively and strokes your hair, clumsily trying to calm you down.

"Thank you." You mumble into his neck. He doesn't say anything. He just holds you, letting you cry into him and calm him down. When you finally do, you move away from him. You wipe tears away with the sleeve of your dress, which makes Feyd's heart clench uncomfortably.

He doesn't understand what you're doing to him. He should have felt disgusted by you and been as far away from you as possible. He should have rejected you the moment you threw yourself at him, but... somehow he couldn't deny you this moment of comfort. The mere thought of you seeking comfort from him made his heart flutter a little. And you smelled nice, too. Like ocean. Like Lankiveil. Like home.

You represented everything his uncle wanted him to forget. You were... soft. Too soft. And nice. He should have wanted to hurt you, not comfort you, but all he wanted to do was hold you and protect you from the cruel world.

"Y/N!" Your father's scream reaches you.

The man pulls you further away from Feyd and looks at him warily before his worried gaze shifts to you and your eyes, bloody from crying. A moment later, the Baron and the Emperor join you. The men look at you and the dead dog, frowning.

"My best hunting dog..."

"Feyd-Rautha, what is this about? What have you done?" Her uncle's threatening growl makes Feyd tense. A shiver runs through him, and he opens his mouth to explain himself, but you beat him to it, leaving your father's arms and standing bravely in front of the baron and emperor.

"He saved me."

"What?"

"The dog broke off the leash. It… it would have bitten and torn me if Na-Baron hadn't killed it." The men look at each other, assessing the situation. Feyd watches you carefully, ignoring the surprised, frightened looks from the emperor and your father as you tell them that he killed a nearly three-foot dog.

"I... thank you, Na-Baron. For protecting my daughter." Your father nods to him, but he still has an iron grip on your arm. As if he were afraid that Feyd would turn out to be a worse, more dangerous beast to you than the dog that wanted to bite you to death.

"You're welcome, Viscount Y/L/N." He replies, shifting his gaze from you to your father for a moment.

Your dad is not waiting for the Emperor and the Baron to let you two go. He simply grabs your hand and leads you back to the palace with him. As if he wanted you to be as far away from the Harkonnens as possible.

"You shouldn't let just any dog ​​bite you. You let me down, boy."

You feel sad when you hear his uncle's words. You turn your head, making eye contact with the hairless boy. You give him a small, reassuring smile and wave at him. You see him purse his lips and shift his gaze back to his uncle, who is scolding him. However, he looks much less tense than before.

Unknowingly to you, you gained a secret admirer that day. An admirer who was going to make him the only man who would have the privilege of protecting you and holding you in his arms. He promised himself that this would happen, even if he had to bring hell into the world.

~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~

Dearest, gentle readers… did you miss me?

The opening of a new season has never been a more exciting and long-awaited event. The great families were impatiently waiting for more scandals delivered by this year's suitors. And this author is bursting with anticipation for the future events and gossips of this season.

This year, we have several unexpected debuts that this author will be watching very closely. However, I am convinced that the undivided attention of the masses will probably be stolen by the Na-Baron of Giedi Prime, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who this year decided to take part in the great search for a wife.

Lord, take care of the future Baron's chosen one so that she can live up to the expectations and life among the Harkonnens.

However, this author wishes the Na-Baron all the best on his birthday and believes that we all look forward to the opening of the season on Giedi Prime, especially to his signature fight in the arena, which will be the main part of Na-Baron's birthday celebration.

But we also cannot forget about the stars of the previous season, whose story is not even close to the end yet.

Lady Y/N Y/L/N did not decide to plunge into great mourning after the tragic death of her fiancé, Paul Atreides. Lord Luwael was charmed by the young honourable at the end of the previous season, and Lady Y/N turned out to be not indifferent to his courtship. Surprising? A little bit. Unreasaonbale? Of course not. After all, why stand faithfully by a corpse of a duke when you can stick by the side of a potential Emperor?

But this author is deeply disappointed that we didn't get to hear any wedding bells at the end of the previous season. Maybe these two will surprise us all this year, and we will see a real royal wedding that we haven't been able to witness for ages.

We are all looking forward to the ball in honour of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's birthday, which will be opening this year's season. And this author can't wait to bring all the gossip and scandal to our curious readers. Who knows who will win this great race and have a good match this season?

Happy hunting to all the future brides!

[tokoyamisstuff]

Breaking Bonds Ch. 7

Synopsis: The Bene Gesserit have their ways to make one obey. Warnings: Angst, noncon, injury, blood, probably more...not proofread. A/N: I've been very hesistant to write this. But I have some terrible days behind me and if I have to suffer then so do you.

"The bear loved the deer, it was obvious. It ripped the deer's throat out, and then licked the dying deer with the most passionate affection."

[Previous Chapter]

⚠️ Dead Dove - Do Not Eat ⚠️

Time sure flies when you're enjoying yourself, so it was no wonder that your departure neared faster than you wanted. Well, in all honesty, you never wanted to leave again - but duty needed your husband elsewhere.

You watched as the servants carried several heavy loads into the ships - furniture and other things from your culture, random purchases to make you feel more at home on Giedi Prime.

"My Countess?" a hand on your shoulder demanded your attention, and when you turned around you were met with the same worried face your mother had not once dropped ever since the day of your arrival. "I told you to keep calling me Y/N."

She nodded hesistantly, both of you watching the Harkonnens prepare for your travel. It did not go past her how your eyes lit up ever so slightly, a smile tugging at the edge of your lips when Rabban came into your field of view, ordering the soldiers around.

"Men like these are more common than one would think" she explained, sorrow lacing her tone. "Most might not be as influental as your husband, but they are all addicted to implement power over others to mask what they lack."

Not wanting to overshadow your goodbye with an argument, you bite back the words lying on your tongue. "Stay wary" was her last warning, "Harkonnen are evil by default."

"Mother, I-" She stopped you right there, raising her hands in a placating manner. "I know, I know. And I wish deeply that his tenderness towards you is genuine. I'm just afraid it won't preserve, that he'll revert back."

"Mother, really, he is not hurting me-"

"Yet" she emphasized, earning an eye-roll from your side. Damn her.

There's not really use to talk this topic to the ground, since at the bottom line she was right - however good he may treat you, it doesn't even remotely outweight the sins he's committed.

Surely, the tightrope between logic and the feelings you held for Rabban was a thin and painful thread. It went beyond all logic, demanded you to put a blind eye to the circumstances outside of your marriage...

...and still, whenever it was just the two of you, whenever you could be your true selves despite past and politics, you felt hopeful that this would all be worth it in the end.

Yes, whatever the future would have in stock for you and Rabban, together you would be able to face it.

"Damn it woman, it's freezing!" You wince as a heavy piece of whale-fur was suddenly draped over your shoulders by the man that had suddenly appeared behind you. "You really have no sense of self-preservation."

You smiled as you clutched the fabric, chuckling at your husband's gruff way of showing affection. His favour was not the only thing making you feel warm and fuzzy inside and out. "Thank you, my Count."

"The servants need your expertise on the market, to buy some supplies for our return" he spoke flatly, pointing towards two maids carrying several baskets. "Treat yourself."

You look up to the man, tilting an eyebrow at the obvious distraction. "Well then, I'll be off" you declare cheekily, holding your mother's hands another time. "We'll bid each other farewell later, mother."

Rabban watched you leave, a tiny bit woeful since he didn't get to spend much time with you those past few days.

"You've raised a remarkable woman" he noted nonchalantly, arms crossed defensive in front of his chest - a subconscious mechanism to protect himself, while appearing so unusual emotionally vulnerable at the same time.

"Indeed" she agrees, yet still spiteful after your folk's history with the Harkonnens and their well-known way to treat their female counterparts. "But with all due respect, I highly doubt you're able to see her true worth...besides carnal pleasure and whatever it is you're trying to achieve with this marriage."

"...she's an innocent soul" he spoke from the heart for a change, despite his struggle to find the right words. "But not the naive kind of way. Y/N knows the cruel way this world operates, and still chooses to do as much good as possible. That takes another kind of strenght, I guess."

Your mother was shocked at this most unexpected depht of his soul, having thought your husband to be just as shallow as both his appearance and attitude might suggest.

Knowing that no answer would suffice to form a bond after decades of war, she chose to dwell in this pleasant revelation in silence - a precursor to the start of something greater.

Lankiveil - the time he had spent here with you made him see not only the planet itself in a whole different light. He was finally able to become fully aware of his feelings for you, and also gained clearance about many other things concerning his life.

Remorse for his deeds, maybe? Never. And yet when it came to you, a sense of honor had been planted inside of him, together with the wish to become different - better - for your sake. A man you could love truly, without shame.

"I'll take good care of her, I promise."

Immediately after the sun had set your spaceship started, though it felt like forever until your husband would finally join you at the special secluded part of the ship.

The creases on his forehead immediately dissolved when he went for a bear hug, lifting you up and twirling you around as both your laughter filled the room.

"Finally I don't have to share you anymore" Rabban grinned mischievously - but the comment hit a nerve, your eyes becoming glossy in an instant at the thought of once again leaving your family behind. "Ah stop being all whiny" his face then contorted in a mixture of helplessness and guilt, "You know I'm not suit for consoling anyone."

Your husband would pull you as close as humanly possible, caughing your lips in a long-awaited kiss. "I'll make sure you meet them again soon" he whispers, the side of his knuckles softly brushing against your cheek...

...just for you to recapture his lips, deepening the former kiss. A gluttural noise of approval left the Beast's throat, increasingly more excited the longer you dragged it out.

"Now let us make sure that we'll soon get our heir..."

____

Much to your discomfort, the person assigned to await you at the main spaceport of Giedi Prime was no one else than Feyd-Rautha.

You had silenced your voice of reason thus far, but seeing this lunatic again painfully reminded you that the domestic times you and Rabban shared have now officially ended.

"Our uncle wants to see you" your in-law urged him, no warm words of welcome or even a remotely polite manner spared for his brother. "Immediately."

"Not now" Rabban waved him off, and for some reason Feyd's lack of violent response was even more confusing and unsettling. "My wife is fatigued. I'll bring her to our quarters first."

Feyd clenched his jaw, motioning his head in an unnatural manner until the bones in his vertebrae started to crack. "Suit yourself" he then surprisingly calmly accepted this outcome, his floating cape making for a grand pose when he rushed off...

...yet not forgetting to taunt you at the first opportunity, at one second when your husband's attention lied elsewhere:

"You had your chance - now you're going down together with him."

No matter the meaning, his words alone made your blood run cold. At first you were contemplating to tell Rabban, but that would most likely end bloody on both ends, which you wanted to avoid if possible.

In the end you chose to stay quiet, waiting in the security of your quarters for your husband's return.

After all, you believed in your husband's promise that no harm would come over you as long as he breathed.

____

"The marriage was not consummated."

It was the Bene Gesserit Gaius Helen Moiham itself who spoke first, as always disrespecting the Harkonnen custom of letting a man lead the trial.

Rabban blinked in confusion at the accusation, unbelieving this was the reason he was called here - especially since you were given a deadline still three months from now. "Beg your pardon?"

"Your..." There was a long pause of disregard until the Baron continued. "'Wife', if we may still call her this way, visited our prime physician last month, due to trouble with finding sleep. He confided to us just now, apparently sympathy has weakened his spirit."

Wladimir sighed deeply, as he once again realized his words ignited no spark in his nephew's brain. If it wasn't for him raging himself out on that very same doctor beforehand just after receiving the information, he wouldn't be able to appear this calm right now - at least on the outside he was.

"Boy, I've long since grew tired of your incompetence. Do not make me explain every triviality to you. The abilities of Suk Doctors are well known."

Mentally calculating when you first shared a bed, the dots finally connected: They can read a human bodies like an open book, and during his examination he must've noticed that you were still untouched back then.

"That bastard..." Rabban rumbled between gritted teeth, almost unable to remain within his subservient posture as a new kind of rage - a protective one - was flowing through his veins.

"A disappointment ever since his birth" the Holy Mother jabs at his parenthood, and his uncle joins right in. "I thought this easy task even an imbecile like you could not mess up. By all means, I thought this was the only thing you're good for."

"L-Let me explain!" the Beast utters the words before thinking them through, as if bargaining for your currently uncertain future. "I have...destructive tendencies. Hard to control, and unpredictable. It took me some time to resort to more harmless ways of affinity, so I wouldn't break her. But we have started trying for your heir, and will continue to do so. If you will only-"

"Silence!" The Bene Gesserit did not even need to use her ability to cut Rabban off, and fearing for your life he instantly flinched back to face the ground. "No more excuses and delays. There's only a 50% chance that you'll give us the girl we need, and shall you fall during the imminent war on Arrakis, you only have this one try."

Oh, so this is why they are in such a hurry. He almost felt insulted at their lack of trust in his fighting - and other -skills.

It had always been the plan to revive Lankiveil's Bene Gesserit bloodline through preserving both his and his brother's genes - that's probably the same intention as to why he spotted Feyd with one of the witches just after his celebration the other day.

But the Duke's troops are clearly outnumbered, and unprepared at that. As long as his death was not part of their schemes, there's no way he'd fail to return.

But then again-

"Did he even listen to my words?" Impatient, she now turned to the Baron again, after Rabban had dissociated through the absurdity of this whole scenario. "Probably not, there's never been much thought behind those eyes."

"That could be an advantage, for a change: A weak mind is easier to dominate."

"Wait, wha-" The echo of the Holy Mother's voice was invading Rabban's mind before he could even finish his sentence, let alone try to find a way out of the threat. It was a simple command, to be performed instantly.

"Go to your wife and do what you have to do, no matter what or how long it takes, to make her fall with child."

____

Each person that had been affected by 'the voice' describes it differently - for your husband it was as simple as his mind worked in general: a tunnel view on his vision.

He felt as if his brain was shut down, senses and sanity only able to make out anything required to complete this task. Other than that he was on autopilot, incapable of stopping whatever would happen from now on.

The Beast returned to your chambers right away, practically breaking in the door as wild eyes searched for his dear wife. Ironically you noticed him first, approaching the menacing man blissfully unaware.

"My love, you're back" you cheered, smiling widely as you tiptoed in his direction. "What did your uncle want to talk to you about?"

He turned around, expression undecipherable and soon your curiosity was replaced with dread. Much to add to your confusion, the bulge you saw forming in his pants at this unfit timing made you taken aback. "Rabban? What's wro-"

Without a warning he balled a fist in your hair, practically dragging you to the bed before you were even able to process the pain or what was happening. You yelped as he harshly threw you onto the mattress, eagerly ripping the thin fabric from your body without leaving you a chance to defend yourself.

No words escaped your throat except for both shocked and terrified noises, and you quickly realized that fighting it was to no avail, since your husband was skilled in getting what he wanted.

...yes, you always knew what your husband was capable of yet chose to ignore it, shove it back into your head so you could continue this illusion of a blissful marriage.

Maybe that was karma, revenge from the afterlife and all his former victims.

Punishment for loving an unloveable abomination.

Rabban could only helplessly watch, a mere bystander in his own body as he saw himself doing the same thing to you he did to so many other undeserving women.

Before he got to know - no, got to love you.

The time he had spent with you was short compared to decades of madness and cruelty, but it felt like his life had started only after you stepped into it.

You had teached him how to become human, made him realize things he never knew: About himself, about his place in this universe and dreams and aspirations he never allowed himself to be aware of.

It all was meaningless now - with his reason to live literally being crushed in his own hands.

Breaking you apart, physically as well as mentally.

You were helplessly lying on your stomach as he straddled your lower body, his erection pressing to your behind and your arms meanly contorted behind your back. He was so painfully heavy that you lost feeling in your legs while he almost calmly ripped the remaining underclothing to shreds.

Afraid as you knew what to anticipate you started begging, shamelessly pitiful words pouring from your lips until your husband pressed your head into the pillow, dampening the sound.

Truly weird, how Rabban's instinct told him that he might be able to snap out of it if your pleas would dring through to his conscience - so naturally, he'd do anything to shut it out.

You were spun around to lie on your back now, his tight grip on your wrists making you double over in pain. No words would leave his lips except for animalistic grunts, his movements static and robotic. When he'd touch the inside of your thigh, his fingers left a purple mark as he forcefully opened your legs while you tried pressing them together with all your might.

One last "Please, no..." came over your lips as he aligned himself with your entrance, balling a fist in the sheets as he entered you without preparation despite your begs.

You yelped, arching your back to no avail as his full lenght rammed inside, stretching your insides and hitting your cervix. Rabban groaned deeply, his eyes rolling in the back of his head at the familiar sensation.

As he continued your body would begin doing it's natural deed, shame washing over you when you realized the hotness you felt was in fact not burning hate but most likely an orgasm building up. You clawed at his back, tried to push his face and chest away from you, but it was no use - he was simply too strong.

Rabban had always been so gentle before, it broke your heart just to think about how badly you wanted this most careful touch on your skin until now.

Why now, after all this time?

All those blissful, intimate moments only to now being used like a toy to lett of some steam? Was that really all you were to him?!

He's waited so long until he'd share your bed, it didn't make any sense - no, it made perfect sense.

A cruel, sadistic Harkonnen joke. Obtaining your trust and even affection through putting up this human facade, just to enjoy your world scatter once again when he revealed his true colors.

That was it: Glossu Rabban Harkonnen was going to kill you, for sure this time.

"I hate you" you finally, ultimatively spoke, scattered and full of overwhelming sadness. "I hate you so, so much. I hate-" Your husband pressed his large, calloused hand onto your face to effectively shut you up - his fingers covering your nose as well, making it difficult to breathe.

But no matter how hard it was to keep focus, your eyes stayed locked on his - piercing him with fear, hate and disgust where he once hoped to find the slightest bit of adoration.

The Beast pulled your legs over your shoulder to thrust even deeper, grabbing your hip bones and mercilessly ramming inside until his pelvic met yours.

Your muffled screams filled the room as he drove you over the edge, but much to your horror it was not the end as you felt him get hard again, his cock still inside of you as he continued.

Only once he would still for a second - when after hours his peripher vision made out blood mixing with other bodily fluids - yet it wasn't enough to break him out of his trance.

The night was excruciatingly long, exhaustion overcoming your body way sooner than he was done with his deed...

...and then, suddenly, after his mind decided it was enough, he stopped.

Your husband's memories of the past hours washed over him in a tide of guilt, horrified to see your limp and abused self next to him. He wanted to console you, cradle you in his arms like he did so many times before - but just when he reached out your eyes snapped open and you quickly shuffled back into the nearest corner.

"P-Please, Rabban, not again..." you stuttered, eyes swollen and voice sore from crying. "I'm ble-eding, I can't-"

In your shock you were unable to make out the shift in his behavior, the awareness he had regained. All you could make up in this man anymore was the face of the enmy - you were back to ground zero.

"Y/N, my love-" The nickname died in his mind, knowing he was undeserving of calling you that title after all the harm he's done. Even from this distance he could make out a bruise shaped like a perfect handprint of his, right on your clavicula. "Let me take you to a healer, at least."

His call for assistance was audible in all hallways of the whole complex, and soon a hoard of servants came to assess the situation. You were sobbing on the bed in a fetal curl, catatonic and unresponsive to the maidens. Just a short while ago they had locked the door from the outside, ignoring your pleas for help as you hammered onto the wooden surface.

Of course it was due to the Baron's order, but you felt betrayed either way...

...by them, your husband, fate, the universe - your own goddamn heart.

Rabban couldn't bear to look at you as they carried your battered self away, knowing he would break down if he saw the aftermath of his weakness.

Nothing he could say or do would make up for even a fraction of what he had done to you with that very body that he had sworn to sacrifice for your protection. He looked down at his own hands, tainted with the first blood that ever made him sick, balling his fists as he grabbed a random servant, crushing his skull with the impact.

"They'll pay a thousandfold for hurting my dear wife."

What a farce those words were, for he knew his place. Amongst the military, which was all he knew. With his family, where he had accepted his part a long time ago.

And in the rest of the known universe, he was aware of his insignificance. He could want revenge all the way, but he won't be getting it against such an all-powerful foe with a way higher social status.

"Several broken ribs and a bruised hipbone" Piter would later report, not that someone asked him. He was just tired of having to clean up behind Rabban's messes.

The words drang to his ears, but the Beast remained mute ever since you were dragged away from him, the images of that fateful event eating him alive.

But he deserved to know about the extent of the only crime he ever truly regretted.

"As for the internal injuries...most likely incapable of conceiving, after" he gestured around, eyeing your husband with discontent, "All this."

If it wasn't for you becoming barren, no one would've bat an eye. It was the most normal thing in the world for them, probably one of their tamest pleasures even - but unlike Rabban, they were able to hold back when required.

The Baron listened carefully to Piter's elaboration, gladly this time without the Bene Gesserit, for she had already parted ways from Giedi Prime. After a while of burying his greasy forehead into his hands, he declared stoic:

"Kill her."

No answer, just pure shock visible on Rabban's face, his mouth agape but his mind simulataneously wwiped blank from any solution.

"You heard me, get rid of her" Wladimir repeated before his nephew could object. "If we send her back to Lankiveil in this state, they'll find out what happened and accuse us of ill intentions from the start of this alliance. They shall never even lay eyes on her corpse, otherwise they'll declare war. We tell them it was an accident, that her corpse cannot be retrieved. Without proof they cannot gain the other House's goodwill for an alliance."

"But uncle, can't we- I mean I keep her?" He gulped, dreading the answer he already knew.

"What for? Without being able to give you a heir, she's only a waste of space, a threat if her peers would find out." His tone was almost disgusted, now that you did not serve a purpose anymore. "And as far as I've heard, she was bad influence on you either way."

Rabban expected his uncle's rage to be directed at him. Screams, lectures, physical punishment even - but much to his surprise, all he got was a reaffirming speech.

"We've all been young any blinded by primal emotions once, boy. Distract yourself, focus on your work and find yourself another plaything. People are replacable - but your destiny isn't, Nu-Baron."

Lies. Lies over lies over lies, encoated in fancy words and false flattery.

Where he had once idolatrously admired his uncle, his newfound awareness reduced this sentiment to nothing but pure, corrupting hatred.

But in the end, one particular thing held some truth: Neither Rabban nor you could escape this fate, after all that had happened...

...and the more he thought about it, your equally disturbed husband was about to fall astray from the path you had led him on, letting doubt and cowardice spit dark thoughts into his mind.

What if his uncle was right after all?

There was no other way around this, no way of sparing your life. As hard as it was to admit, it was crystal clear that someone like Rabban could never outwit the likes of his uncle and the Bene Gesserit.

Their wish was law.

"I can kill her whenever I please" he tried to convince himself, following a trail to the almost empty infarmy as he gathered courage for the impossible. "Yes, I don't need her. Never have. I'm done playing house. I'll make it quick and then continue my old - no, real life."

That pathetic attempt to convince himself was abruptly disturbed when he noticed a different voice than yours coming out of your chambers - a male one.

"I've always wondered how you did it" the baritone voice laughed evily, in between your weak pleas. "Taming the Beast like that, I mean. Might as well try it myself!"

Rabban's steps turned into the fastest run he was capable of, slamming the doors open only to see one of his own henchmen lying on top of you in the sickbed.

"Sorry, boss" the soldier spoke way too relaxed, not understanding the severity of his situation as he slammed your thorso down onto the mattress again. "I wanted to do you a favor and get rid of her...just wanted to have some fun first-"

Rabban's fist hit the chin of his former ally before the latter could chose some wiser last words, sending him flying through the room.

You hid under the sheets again, unsucessfully trying to dampen the noise of a cracking skull and other obscenities with a pillow as Rabban turned his threats into practice. He killed the man with his bare hands, gutting him alive all while screaming like he had lost even the last bit of his sanity.

A violent tremor ran through your body, wanting to intervene and telling him to stop violating the already unrecognizeable corpse, yet just when you opened your mouth his wild eyes fell on you.

"Are you alright?" he panted heavily, the bloodied Beast rushing to your side, unwillingly making you cower in fear. Tears dwelled in your eyes, the memory of what he had done to you still so fresh and now mixed with having witnessed this brutality you always knew he was capable of for the first time.

"W-Why?" you whimmer as the dam broke, seeing the Beast fall to his knees on your bedside. "Why would you go out of your way to save me, after- after you almost killed me yourself last night?"

"Y/N..I-" He looked so forlorn, it made no sense whatsoever. You were traumatized, tired, every bone in your body was aching after the ordeal he had put you through...

...and yet, seeing him like this - tears you never thought he was able to cry before now streaming over his jaw - made you feel sorry for this wretch.

"The Bene Gesserit, they used their voice on me, they-" His vocal cords betrayed him several times, shaky hands hovering over your fragile, broken body in an attempt to not give in to the need of your closeness. "Still, it's my fault alone. My mind twisted their order into...this, I don't know why, I-I'm just so, so sorry..."

The thought to even do so much as to lay a finger on you never even crossed his mind, and yet...

"I failed you" he roars painfully, desperate. Fear and violence was all he ever knew to resolve conflict - but right here, right now with you it was worth nothing.

Yes, his Uncle was right: He's worthless. You were better off without him. He was dangerous, unable to live a normal life - one filled with the happiness and security you deserved.

"Rabban..."

The Beast's teary eyes looked at you unbelieving when he felt your hand on his scalp, bottom lip trembling as your words cut through any hope he had left:

"...you need to kill me."

He does nothing but gulp at your words, dry lips burning from the salt of his own tears.

All emotions seem have dissipated within you. You were calm, too calm to be precize, considering your inescapable situation...

...maybe that was what they'd call acceptance of fate.

"It's true what your subordinate said, isn't it?" Looking at the ceiling lamp, you woefully realize there's no way to ever see the sun again. "...I'm afraid so."

Of course it is. Your immunity had always been tied to your fertility. And now that it's most likely gone, as the doctors have informed you...

"...your people will not grant me a quick death. They'll-" Chosing to not finish explaining the nightmarish possibilities popping up in your mind, you shake your head in exasperation. "Rabban, you will be merciful, I know it. It has to be you, I beg you!"

"Please, Y/N..." You hesistantly cover his hands with yours, both of you feel the other trembling. "Don't make me do this. Anything but this..."

A sole tear escaped your eye, even after you had already shed more than enough for this lifetime. You lean towards your husband, foreheads touching as his palms start to caress your cheekbones.

"You can do it, my love..." you whisper, slowly leading his shaky hands down to your throat. "I love you, Rabban."

You smiled.

Even in the face of doom you chose kindness.

"I should've said it sooner...I love you too, Y/N. More and way longer than you could ever imagine."

_____

"Didn't think to find you here of all places."

Feyd had been sent to look for his brother, and while initially being in no rush, his frustration grew when even after a whole day had passed, his men were unable to find him.

Rabban did not turn towards the voice behind his back, standing there far at the outskirts of the slave pits, staring down the huge cliff dividing it from Harkonnen civilization.

Secretly, a small part of Glossu was hoping his brother would seize the opportunity to push him...

...but Feyd merely came closer, warily staring down the sheer bottomless pit they used to dump all of the slave's corpses.

"What are you doing?" The Beast wouldn't stop looking downwards, tone melancholic as he wrung out the words. "Biding my wife a last goodbye, I guess."

"...heh, not bad." his brother retorted unfazed, amused even. "But what if-"

"Even if they did find her body" Rabban harshly asserted his dominance. "Not even her mother would be able to recognize her. Got it?"

This answer earned another approving chuckle from the sadistic sociopath."I'm impressed. Didn't think you had it in you, to be honest."

In all honesty, Feyd had contemplated getting rid of you instead, as an act of brotherly assistance if one may call it that way. More or less at last, mainly to get back at you for refusing the opportunity to poison Rabban back then.

Who could've thought you were stupid enough to fall for someone like Rabban, after all? Well, it seems like that backfired either way.

"It's good to have you return to your senses, brother" Feyd declared, a single pat on his shoulder underlining the sincerity of his reassurance.

One last look before Rabban was finally able to tear his eyes away from the black pit beneath him, and towards his family - his old life.

"Yeah, it's good to be back..."

____

A/N: NONONO DON'T CRY THIS ISN'T THE END I'M SORRY

[Next Chapter]

[everythingismadeofchaos]

Something I feel didn't come across very well in the latest movie, Dune 2, was the effect of the water of life.

Jessica doesn't just change or gain superpowers by drinking the water of life. She's a different person. That's what the water of life does. And the same thing happens to Paul when he takes it, except the way it affects the Kwisatz Haderach is that it gives him incredible predictive power; to such an extent that he essentially loses freedom of choice, in the circumstances.

Paul doesn't become a monster after he drinks the water of life. He's just trying to stay alive, and the only way to do that is to do what he does. He has very limited choices, and sometimes he makes mistakes, as in the final knife fight, where he does his best to win but he's not quite good enough not to get stabbed; and yet going into the fight he knew this was possible. His precognition isn't magical.

This is a serious point about Dune that I don't think people understand these days. In the 1960s there was a genuine feeling that psychoactive drugs had a realistic place in pharmacology and would advance human progress. This was all pretty much eradicated in the '70s and '80s with the drug war, and we're only now getting back on that track, with "recreational drugs" seriously used to treat PTSD, but when Herbert was writing this was a real science fiction phenomenon: the fiction of the possible. It was never intended to be magic.

For example, the word telepathy is actually used in the 80s movie, and I think it might be used in the recent movies too, but the original idea was that the training and drug cocktail used by the Bene Gesserit allows them to read people and understand them on a profound and deeper level. It's the same with the human computers and the Guild Navigators. There's no magic in Dune, unless you (like me) consider technology magic. Herbert's initial idea was that drugs would increase human ability to what seems like magic to contemporary people, the way a Honda CB350 seems like magic to uncontacted Amazonian tribes.

So it is with the water of life. The water of life is poison, but the Bene Gesserit are trained to manipulate their own body chemistry to the extent that they can transform it, in a sort of literate reference or echo of the miracles of previous messiahs, i.e. turning water into wine. Paul appears to have superpowers of precognition, but they're really terribly restrictive, since like a professional of great expertise (say, a doctor or lawyer) he knows the best thing to do, except he knows it with far more certainty than they do. So he essentially loses his freedom of choice. He does have limited options, but they're all bad.

Paul is never a monster. His character arc is absurdly transformative, turning him into a different person. And it's the same with his mother. They don't turn into bad people, they turn into different people, great and terrible people. But sometimes that is what people are. It's easy to make moral judgments if you don't know what's going to happen, but if you're in military intelligence and you have to choose between a thousand men definitely dying tomorrow or 10,000 possibly dying next week, and you know the odds either way, you have to obey the math.

Something I find interesting when viewing the two recent Dune movies as a whole is that initially, Paul is more than willing to use the prophecy and his visions for his own gain to convince Liet to help them, while Jessica whispers "careful!" at his side, and she later recommends they leave the planet entirely. But Paul decides they'll stay with the Fremen. Even at the beginning of Part 2, Paul is like "fuck yeah let's wage war on the Harkonnen" and Jessica is again counseling caution: "your father didn't believe in revenge." She goes through the Water of Life ceremony not because she wants to help Paul fulfill the prophecy but because she's forced to: do this or die. And even then, the old Reverend Mother had to use the Voice on her to get Jessica to drink.

That all changes when Jessica nearly dies during the ceremony. After that, Paul becomes more wary of embracing the prophecy, and she just throws herself into it. Paul nearly loses his mother (and his unborn sister) to a painful, agonizing poison - mere hours/days after losing his father and all their friends/allies to the Harkonnen slaughter - and decides it's not worth it. Meanwhile, Jessica gets a direct download of memories of millennia of oppression and goes "yeah let's burn everything to the ground."

It's an interesting, quick reversal at the beginning of the second movie, and it's great.

Ooh thank you for this great ask. I can always count on you for smart and thoughtful Jessica takes!

You make a really good observation about their reversal of positions--I had been struggling to figure out how Paul's line about "I must sway the non-believers" fit into his overall arc, but you are absolutely right that this feels like a continuation of how he talks to Liet. We're seeing the first stirrings of that little "maybe I am special" thought that later takes center stage.

For most of Part Two, Paul has several reliable counterweights pulling against that streak of arrogance and high-handedness that he's had from the beginning. Jessica almost dies drinking the Water of Life, which, like you point out, has got to make him think twice about encouraging people to believe in the prophecy. Then, he spends most of the movie surrounded by Chani and her friends and comrades, who seem the most skeptical of the prophecy and also aren't going to give his ego the time of day. And at the same time, he has an opportunity to pour his desire for revenge into collective political action that seems to be making a difference.

It's only when those countervailing forces start collapsing (the people who had started out as his equals are now becoming his followers; the Harkonnens attack Sietch Tabr and other civilian population centers, proving they are far from militarily defeated; Gurney shows up and immediately offers what seems like an easy solution to their problems that only Paul can access) that the little maybe I am special voice starts winning again.

As for Jessica, her journey doesn't get as much focus in the movie but it's also fascinating. She's a great character because she is so fucking smart at navigating power structures from what seems like an unenviable position. Did she have any choice about being sent to Caladan to become Leto's concubine? I am guessing she did not. But she sure figured out how to work that situation to her advantage. It happened that along the way she and Leto came to genuinely love and respect each other. But I'm sure she would still have figured out an angle even if that had not been the case.

In Part Two she starts out in a frankly quite terrifying position: she can undergo this unknown, dangerous ritual or die, and also possibly put Paul's safety at risk by raising doubt about whether he is the Lisan al-Gaib. But after she survives the Water of Life, she is launched into a powerful position in Fremen society and pretty quickly realizes she can use that to both protect Paul and get her revenge on the people who tried to kill her whole family. And unlike Paul, she is much more cognizant of the intergalactic power structures at work and aware that the Harkonnens themselves were a pawn in all this, so her target is the Bene Gesserit and the emperor.

I would have loved more time to explore Jessica's relationship to Fremen society and her POV in general. Because in some ways she becomes as Fremen as it's possible for her to be--she has access to thousands of years of memories of Fremen history and culture and politics; she becomes instantly fluent in the language and she is immersed in Fremen daily life in the sietch. (If there's one single thing I wanted more of, it was daily life in the sietch.) But she's still the same person she was, so she hasn't lost that ability to be ruthless and calculating and see people as forces to be manipulated. In Part One, her love for Paul and Leto provided an interesting counterweight to this that allowed us to see some moments of vulnerability from her (ie. she knows Paul has to undergo the Gom Jabbar test but she's terrified for him while it's happening). In Part Two she is so isolated for most of the movie (away from Paul; surrounded by followers who were never friends; I think we can all agree that talking to your unborn fetus doesn't really count) that we don't get a lot of these more unguarded moments from her. (I would have loved some Jessica/Stilgar action and it seems like the potential was very much set up for that, but I understand why they didn't have time.)

But in general I thought they did a great job of setting up this contradictory tension between Jessica and Paul, where they both want so desperately to protect each other and they both want revenge, but the way they each go about it ends up putting them in direct conflict with each other.

[alaynes-writings]

By your side

Summary: Paul is deeply disturbed after the gom jabbar test and starts doubting everything he ever knew. You are there to comfort and assure him that you‘ll always be there for him.

Pairing: Paul Atreides x reader (gender neutral)

Prompt: “I’ll always be by your side” + hand/palm kisses

A/N: I was finally able to finish another request, hope y’all like it. The last week was very busy, so if you are still waiting for your request to be written, please be patient, I haven’t forgotten them. Anyways, hope y’all have a good week and thanks for reading!

                                                              ---

You have never seen Lady Jessica like this before. Scared. Paul’s mother was a very calm and collected woman, a Bene Gesserit. It was difficult to figure out what was going on in her head, she never let you see through her. Over the years you had learned to accept that, it was just who she was. But now, as she stood in front of that door you saw her hands shaking, whispering some mantra of the order to herself in an attempt to get control over her emotions back. Seeing her in this state only fueled your own fear, your heart hammering in your chest.

She had come to Paul’s bedroom this night, waking you both, not surprised to find you in his bed. You didn’t understand why the Reverend mother needed to see him in the middle of the night, what all of this was about and neither did Paul. You had insisted on coming with him and he was too tired to argue with you.

You had reached for his hand as you hurried after him, unable to shake off the feeling that something terrible was about to happen. That had only increased when you saw Dr. Yueh waiting for Paul next to his mother.

Jessica had given no explanation to what would happen, she had simply ordered you to stay and wait. Reluctantly you had let go of Paul’s hand as he had tried to give you a reassuring smile, but it hadn’t reached his eyes and you knew he was nervous too.

He had disappeared with his mother in the room and you had wondered how long it would take, but Jessica had come out only a few moments later. Paul was not with her.

You wanted to ask a thousand questions, but you didn’t dare to speak, knowing she wouldn’t answer any of them. She just stood in front of that door, making it clear that no one would get past her, that the Reverend mother would get whatever it was that she wanted from Paul.

Jessica had sent everyone else away, there were no guards in the hallway and Dr. Yueh was gone too. To your surprise she didn’t say anything to you. She knew what you and Paul meant to each other, that you loved each other. Maybe that was the reason she allowed you to stay here, in front of this door with her.

You swallowed as you watched her whispering to herself, unable to get your own fear under control. You weren’t a Bene Gesserit, you had never learned to control your emotions like that. Sometimes you envied her for her skills and Paul too, he had learned so much from her. Their ability to stay calm in situations like this made you feel like you were a slave to your own emotions. Even now you could watch the fear and panic on Jessica’s face subside slowly with every word she muttered.

Suddenly you heard Paul scream, you eyes widening in panic as you took a step towards the door. Jessica looked at you, calm again and shook her head slowly. You hesitated, unsure if you should listen to her, but then Paul screamed again and your body moved without control, towards the door, towards Paul. The only thought left in your head was that you needed to get to him, to save him.

Jessica stopped you, her hands gripping your arms.

“You can’t go in there.”

“What is she doing to him?” you hissed. How could she be so calm when her son was in there, getting tortured or worse? It scared you. It scared you how her face could remain so neutral in this situation.

“It’s a test.” she said, her voice a bit gentler, like she was talking to a child who couldn’t understand the complexity of the situation.

You heard Paul scream again and fought against her grip, crying out his name. Tears were streaming down your face at how helpless you felt.

“Why do you let her do this to him?”

“Because he will pass.”

Her voice was steady and sure, a sharp contrast to the desperation that had been prominent on her face moments ago.

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

She knew that you weren’t convinced, that you were already trying to figure out a way to get past her, to get to Paul.

“If you don’t stop I will have to use the voice on you.”

You felt your blood freezing in your veins at her words. The voice. A skill that scared you to no end. It was something you couldn’t fight, something you couldn’t run from. You had seen her use the voice on people before and it had terrified you. She knew that. Maybe you should be thankful that she respected you enough to not have used it the second you took a step towards that door. You took a step back, free from her grasp now, tears still in your eyes.

Behind the door it was quiet now, but the silence felt even worse than Paul’s screams before. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you stared at the door, waiting for a sign that Paul was alive.

“Jessica.” you heard the old woman call and Jessica looked at you before she opened the door.

“Do not come in. Wait here.”

When the door closed behind her it was quiet, you were alone in the dimly lit hallway, your heart hammering against your ribs.

It felt like you stood there for an eternity and when the door finally opened you jumped to the side. The Reverend mother was the first one to leave the room, not sparing you a glance. You were thankful for that, the old woman scared you. Jessica hurried after her and then finally, Paul came behind her.

You couldn’t say a word as you scanned him from head to toe. He looked unharmed, at least there was no visible injury. You could see that he had cried and he kept his head down, only briefly glancing at you. Wordlessly he reached for your hand, his fingers gripping yours tightly as he lead you back to his chambers. You almost had to jog to keep up with his fast steps and when the door to his bedroom finally closed behind you, you couldn’t hold back anymore, throwing your arms around his neck.

He reached for you in the same moment, his arms finding their way around your waist. You simply stood there for a few moments, pressed together, holding on to each other.

“What happened?” you asked into the silence.

Paul buried his face in the crook of your neck and you felt him take deep breaths against your skin. He was trembling, only slightly, but you could feel it and suddenly another feeling swallowed your fear almost entirely. Anger. What had the old witch done to him? What did he had to endure behind this door?

You let your hand wander over his back, stroking him gently, waiting patiently until he was ready to answer. When he raised his head he took a step back and reached for your hand again, wordlessly leading you to the bed. You both sank down on the edge and Paul was still silent, retreating his hand. Your mind produced one terrifying image after the other as you thought about what could have happened, but you held back from asking again, not wanting to pressure him.

He took a deep breath and then he finally started talking.

You listened as he explained what had happened, how the Reverend mother had ordered him to put his hand in that strange box, how horrible the pain had been. You shuddered when he described it to you.

“I thought my skin was melting from my bones.”

He kept staring at his hand, seemingly unharmed, but it was like he could still feel it. Like he couldn’t comprehend that his hand was intact, that the pain he had felt hadn’t left any traces on his skin.

Slowly you reached out and gently took his hand in yours. He didn’t pull away, he just watched as you brought it to your lips and kissed the back of his hand. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm lips on his skin, the tenderness a sharp contrast to the pain he had felt before, the pain that was haunting him now. Your lips wandered over his hand, kissing his knuckles, his fingers, his palm, every inch of skin and you heard him exhale shakily.

Paul didn’t know if it was just his mind playing tricks on him but he could feel the pain ease at every spot you kissed, the horrible memory replaced by your gentleness.

Finally you wrapped your hands around his, squeezing it gently.

“It’s over now. You got through it.”

He nodded, his throat too tight to speak. He watched as your thumbs stroke his hand softly and he wished he could just lay down with you, letting you comfort him, fall asleep in your arms. But he needed to tell you something else too.

“There’s more.” he managed to get out and you tilted your head to the side, encouraging him to continue. You tried not to show how worried you were, but Paul wasn’t even looking at you, his gaze fixated on your hands that were holding his.

When he spoke again, he told you everything, how the Reverend mother had hinted that he might be the Kwisatz Haderach, how his mother was supposed to give birth to a girl instead of a boy and you didn’t dare to interrupt, the words stumbling out of him. You noticed how difficult was for him to talk about it, even more difficult than when he had told you about the pain the box had caused him. Your mind tried to make sense of all the things he said and for a moment you wondered if this was just a terrible joke. You knew the Bene Gesserit had their own plans, that they weren’t just selfless advisors, but this was beyond everything you could have ever imagined.

Paul was silent afterwards, still not looking at you which worried you even more than what you had just heard.

“Paul.” you called softly, but he didn’t raise his head. “We don’t know if this is true. Even the Reverend mother wasn’t fully convinced.”

„But what if she‘s right? What does that make me then?“

His voice sounded hoarse, barely more than a whisper and he finally looked at you again. There were tears in his eyes again and he looked so unsure of himself, like you have never seen him before, so scared and anxious and it broke your heart.

„You‘re still Paul. Just my Paul.” you whispered. “The one who could watch film books for hours, who takes walks with me in the rain because he knows that I love it. The one who likes to listen to Guerney when he sings, who steals fruit from the kitchen for me. The one who teases Duncan at every chance the gets, who always wants to learn and do better. The one who protects the people he loves. That’s who you are. And it doesn’t matter if the Reverend mother is right or not. It doesn’t matter if you are the Kwisatz Haderach or not. It doesn’t make you anything else.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I love you. And I’ll always be by your side, whatever happens.”

Only then you realized that it was relief that was now in his eyes. Relief that you didn’t push him away, that you weren’t scared of him, that you didn’t think differently of him now.

He reached out, his hands grasping your face delicately as he kissed you, soft and slow. It was a gentle kiss, meant to make you feel how deeply he cared for you, how much you meant to him and you melted under his touch, gasping when he pulled away. He rested his forehead against yours, his thumbs stroking your skin gently.

“I love you too.” he whispered against your lips and you couldn’t help but smile, his own lips twitching up at the sight. It barely counted as a smile, but you were glad to see him calm again, the fear in his eyes replaced by affection as he looked at you.

“Let’s try to get some rest.”

He nodded, his nose brushing against yours and he quickly kissed you again before he turned to take off his shoes. When you were both settled in bed, laying on your sides, facing each other you reached for his hand again, the one he had to put in the box. You intertwined your fingers, shuffling closer to him. Paul’s eyes were already fluttering close, but he brought your joined hands to his lips, kissing your fingers gently. There were no words needed and you closed your own eyes, a wave of tiredness washing over you.

I will keep him safe, you thought to yourself as you slowly drifted off to sleep. I will protect him from any harm. Whatever may come.

[supernovafeather]

Heyy. How are you? If its not a problem, I would love to see shot with Leto raising his own daughter. There’s no a lot of content between Leto and Paul, but we know that he was such a good father. I’m pretty sure that if he had a daughter, she would be daddy’s girl.

Well I got a bit carried away with that one and it's not exactly him raising his daughter, but still an important part of it. A bit more angsty that what you were expecting too, but a good ending. ☺️

A Bloodline Legacy

Father!Leto Atreides x Daughter!Reader

Warnings : angsty, family argument, hurt/comfort

Being an Atreides is a blessing. Your bloodline brings you such joy everytime you think about it. Your father, Leto, is the perfect ruler. Paul, your big brother, is his promising heir. Jessica, your mother, is a powerful woman coming from the Bene Gesserit, teaching incredibly powerful powers to her son. You, you learn as much as you can with your brother, swallowing huge amounts of knowledge in no time. How lucky your people is to have you. To you they should be even more grateful.

You love feeling the power of the Caladan army during ceremonies, hundreds of soldiers standing there in their perfectly adjusted uniforms, obeying to your father. Their mothers accepted to let their sons and daughters risk their life for your family. The castle is big enough to contain many secrets, old enough to hold the memory of dozens of generations of your ancestors. The Emperor knows about your existence. The Emperor himself. How many peasants or soldiers, diplomats, merchants or teacher could say the same ?

Growing old enough to taste this overwhelming joy, you learned to hide this intense pleasure. Most of the time. You also grew unexpectedly impulsive when upset.

"Young woman," your father growls behind you.

These words make you straighten your back as you turn around, your hands clasped behind your back and your features remaining neutral as you attempt to know where your fault is. It's late, but not enough for crossing a curfew. You ate everything at dinner. You talked with your family. You made sure to be as wonderfully dressed as them, respected its colors and desire of humility. You had been perfect.

"Yes Father ? Is there any problem ?"

"Follow me please." He says as he steps aside, indicating you the other way with a stern gaze.

"Yes Father."

It annoys you to see that your parents have started to keep a closer eye on you recently. The more you think about it, the more you think that you were right to stop talking to Paul about your desire of conquest in favor of your House name. He has always been their favorite as their heir. They are too nice. For a ruler sharing the galaxy with so many horrible people in it and such a powerful army, your father is... you wouldn't say he is weak, far from it actually, but all too forgiving.

He leads you to your quarters in silence. This is when you start to feel a bit worried as you stand in the middle of the room. Your father's eyes are still directed to you. Stern, unwavering, disappointed.

"My child," he says calmly, "can you explain your behavior earlier today. I just heard about the words you exchanged with one of our maids this morning."

You knew this whore would try something against you.

"I admit scolding her. She was late this morning. By around ten minutes. She was talking loudly outside my chambers with someone else, and not because of some work she had to do before joining me to help me getting dressed."

"Is this your version ?"

Nothing is more terrible to watch his face sinking into deeper disappointment. You are in trouble. It hurts. Never in your life you had wanted to be the cause of such a thing. It had never been a part of your dreams when you were a little girl. Rather of your nightmares. Excellence is primordial under this ceiling and this name.

"This is my version. Please tell me what I could be missing ?"

"Maybe you could tell me about the way you expressed your anger." He starts as you swallow hard at the powerful glare set on you. "And before you can argue, I'd like to precise that five people admitted you had an irresponsible behavior. All of their versions match."

"I may have raised my voice." You admit halfheartedly.

"You may have done that. Yes. For the dozenth time this month. Do not use your bad mood after waking up as an excuse again. We have already talked about it last time and I thought I was clear enough for it not to happen again."

His tone is still the same with this veiled threat. This time you lower your gaze as a lump forms in your throat. In a way you have felt out of touch with the rest of your family. You are not their heir, the Voice is barely a thing in you, and you don't have many friends. None, to be more exact. Yet you are eager to please them, to replicate the power they exult so effortlessly. You share your father's view on governing with benevolence yet with a firm hold on this planet. You wish he were proud of your efforts.

"I crossed a line." You say as you keep your eyes on the ground. "I'm sorry."

"So what ?" He finally snaps as you step back in fear, your back and shoulder curling at his angry scream. "So you can act like an immature child for the hundredth time of the month ? So you keep treating the personnel like they are nothing while you can't even motivate yourself to take things in your own hands ? Do you have any idea how worried we are to see you choose this path ? Not only your family. Even people you treat like some useless crap saw you changing, they warn you over and over, we do the same, over and over too, Paul did it, your mother did it, I did it, same about Gurney and Duncan. And yet nothing changes."

You had no idea that tears could fall so freely down your cheeks, but here you are.

"I dare to hope young woman, that this won't happen ever again. This is not that kind of attitude that convinces anyone that you are ready for any kind of high responsibility." He stops before taking a deep breath in, the sound of his hands rubbing his bearded cheeks louder than your sobs as his voice changes into mumbles. "No one wants to see a narcissistic ruler, a lazy one. I don't want my daughter to turn into a cruel and heartless monster. This is not how we raised you. We have tried to understand you, but we can't."

You wish your breathing wasn't as bad as it is, your throat less painful, your heart not beating as hard. He never snapped at you like that. He's always been incredibly patient with you. On some points your mother was even firmer than he was, and she never screamed neither. You can't even hate on him despite all the bad faith and frustration you've accumulated throughout the two latest years.

"I do my best." You croak faintly. "I do. It's stronger than me. It's... it's like I need it. I am proud of our family. Of our History. I truly am." You articulate as you hear the door opening gently without a knock. "I want to defend it with all my heart and all my soul. But I can't adjust. I can't."

You take a breath as you guess your mother just arrived from the corner of your eyes, her silent footsteps under her long dress leading her to your side. Then you continue talking, your head still directed to the floor.

"I know my attitude doesn't fit with what's expected from me. But I don't like what's expected from me. I wish I could have the ability to govern like you or like Paul the day he is ready, I wish I could master the Voice but obviously I barely heritated it at all, I wish I wasn't approaching the age where I'm going to get married by force for the sake of our family."

Your voice breaks at those words and despite the comforting hand your mother rests on your shoulder, you come closer to your father, holding him firmly in your arms. He is the one you need the most right now, he is the one you feel like having betrayed the most. You want to hear him reassuring you like when you had a nightmare so many years before. A hug and comfort from him. It's all you need.

"We won't marry you by force my child." He says with a confused tone as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'll have to get married one day." You argue as you stay against him with your eyes closed. "You'll want me to get married, you want me to have children, to be perfect for this role while I'm not."

"Honey." Your mother says softly as she rubs your back. "Do you really think we would force you to do such a thing ? That we would throw you in the arms of any man ?"

"It's what's expected from me, either from you or anyone else." You argue before looking at her. "For now you still consider me as your bad child learning to behave, but one day I'll be your child having for mission to perpetuate our bloodline."

You must be a mess to get her appearing so sad. She turns her head to Leto that sighs before staring down at you, himself visibly shook by your fear. You hate making him have negative emotins, but this time it's even worse than anything else. Anxiety and confusion animate his trembling voice.

"We won't do such a thing. Have you forgotten how... abnormal our union looks for any outsider ? How unacceptable it is to many ? Even by the Bene Gesserit itself ? The anger it created from forces well above us ? We never hid it from you. Your mother and I aren't even married."

"I'm afraid and I admit it I'm too weak amd I know you already think I am." You sob against his shoulder as he tightens his grasp around you when you mutually fell on your knees as he prevents you from hurting yourself. "I'm not an Atreides. I know, I see it in everyone's eyes."

"You are an Atreides." Your father says out loud as he takes your face between his hands, incredulity obvious on his features. "You share our blood. You were the little girl I read stories to whenever I could. I would defend you and your brother until death catches me up. You are equal to my eyes, Voice or not. Please do not think I would advantage him over you. You are my children. Our children."

"Why can't I be like all of you then ? Brave, learning all the time without any mistake ? Why is the only mean to assert our power I find is strength ?"

"You are still young, you are learning. You are impulsive, like anyone would be at your age. Pure strength is the easy way.

"I don't want to be my age dad, I want to be an Atreides." You sob as your mother kneels next to you, a hand rubbing the back of your head. "I only want to be an Atreides. Is it too much to ask for ?"

"You are our daughter." She says as you turn your head to her. "Nothing will change this fact. I carried you for nine months. I hold you in my arms right after your birth. Your father and I made sure you got a good education."

"Why am I like that then ?" you ask her. "Why ?"

"Are you willing to change ?" She asks seriously, her thumb rubbing the tears off your cheeks.

"I am." You confirm with a nod.

"Then do it. We have told you dozens of times but we can do no miracle." She says as she stands up. "You are the only one able to correct your own behavior. You are our daughter and we love you. We love your brother as well."

"I love you." Your father says as he redirects your face towards his with sorrowful eyes. "I'm sorry you have had to think the opposite. But you also have to grown up by yourself. I understand your fears, being at the head of a planet and of your own people can be frustrating, but you have to cultivate your patience, your love for them. You can't be a leader and act egoistically. This is not possible."

You nod, hugging your father harder than before. You miss the days where responsibilities were almost inexistent. Lessons to learn, some patriotic chants... and it was about it. Also some dance lessons but really who even cared about them ? No need for moral conflicts and the choice between acting egoistical and generous.

"I'm sorry dad." You mumble against his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not the one you should say sorry to. You should do that to our personnel. Please get up."

He follows your motions and you avoid his eyes as he rubs your wet cheeks. It shouldn't be so easy to break down. How are you going to get their trust again ?

"I'm still sorry. You must think I'm immature. And you're right. Out family deserves better."

"You, as an individual, deserve better than this kind of attitude." Your father corrects you. "You sound ashamed of your own actions. Here is your chance to move on. You can start to respect yourself."

"I will. I will." You promise before looking up at hin again. "I'll do it."

"Good." He smiles. "We'll talk about it tomorrow. It getting late. You shouldn't stay up too late tonight."

A nod is your reply, and you walk quickly and in silence towards your bathroom, disgusted by your reflection in the mirror. You understand why your parents wiped your tears, there were so much that your cheeks are still wet. Reddish puffy eyes. But you are feeling better as you take a quick shower and get into a pajama your maid let there after you screamed at her. You feel guilty. Something tells you you won't have a peaceful night. But you won't wake her up. Better wait to talk to her tomorrow.

Once out of the bathroom, you find your father still present and looking through the window, his back turned to you. His clasped hands rubbing each other playing with his Atreides signet ring give away some inner monologue. You care for him. He already have so much to think about. Who are you to add a burden in his life ?

"Sweetheart." Your mother whispers as she walks up to you. "I have to go now, but I'll let you with your father. We'll discuss about allt his later, after some rest."

You nod, smiling softly as she takes your head between her hands to place a long and delicate kiss on the top of your head. It hadn't happened in a while. Once she left, you join the Duke who turned towards you.

"You look tired Father." You state.

"So I am not dad anymore ?" He jokes in a faint voice, his features trying to follow his emotions slowly as he smiles. "I sure am tired. But everything looks about to get better. I won't complain. Actually I'm proud you managed to express yourself more clearly."

"It took me a while. Too long." You comment before watching through the window. "Too many months. I'm sorry for the worry and arguments I caused."

"I'm sorry for raising my voice. I guess we could have found another solution."

"I doubt it." You say as you turn to him. "I was too deep in my denial. Thank you."

The hand running through your hair is full of affection, like the pair of eyes set on you.

"My daughter." He starts before sighing. "You are definitely an Atreides."

For a second you witness his eyes watering but you can't quite think about it as he paces away from you, wishing you a good night.

- - - - - -

Thanks for reading please comment and reblog if you liked it ! ☺️

@salome-c @stevenngrant @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @one-hell-of-a-disappointment @dailyreverie @anaaaispunk @beepboopyoda @general-latino @samsspade @ateliefloresdaprimavera

@thebitchywitchyone @thecursivej @focccus @lady-targaryen

[midnightactual]

Rukongai is Salusa Secundus

I keep referencing Dune for a reason and I can now explain to you why Rukongai is set up the way it is through analogy with the Imperial House, the Sardaukar, and Salusa Secundus.

A people known as the Sardau rise to primacy on a terrible world called Salusa Secundus. They eventually get off-world, become mercenaries, and due to external circumstances manage to become the Imperial House of the Known Universe, House Corrino. House Corrino still needs more troops to maintain its primacy though. So what to do?

Well, they take whatever prisoners they acquire, dump them back on Salusa Secundus, force them to endure all the hardships that they themselves experienced, and simultaneously stamp their culture and traditions onto them, while at the same time preventing any efforts to make the planet more bearable.

"In this way, they manufactured a deadly environment of near-anarchy that naturally trained battle-ready forces. Recruits would be drawn from their ranks by special selection practices. Those few who were chosen to ascend were released from their bonds of imprisonment and welcomed as brethren by the Emperor, who spoiled them with lavish treatment."

Is this starting to sound familiar?

This is exactly how Rukongai is managed, right down to the unnaturally persistent and smooth conditions of anarchy. Actually, the forces of the Seireitei have an even more organic system, as they don't even have to select recruits—recruits self-select by venturing to the Seireitei themselves.

The whole thing is a prison camp for recruiting Shinigami, and the quality of those recruits is increasing with time. Just look at all the commoners from Rukongai who know Bankai in the present era, something unheard of in the past.

The system is working perfectly.

Now you might be wondering why the Great Nobles would set up a world like this when they bound the Soul King and created multiple realms, and the answer to that is in Dune too: they're playing the Bene Gesserit. They're breeding superior forces.

While the Nobles have to finance a bunch of dumb technological solutions like Hollowfication to try and catch up with them, the Great Nobles can just snatch up whatever awesome commoners appear and integrate them into their bloodlines directly, or make them into vassal Houses on merit and thus also dilute the power of the Nobles by stacking their ranks with more and more servants. Either way they win.