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queenofmistresses · 2 hours

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— TAMED

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

SUMMARY — You're a cat lover and Feyd-Rautha reminds you of one. You want him and you believe you can tame him.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is not exactly what the request was about but it includes Feyd having to deal with his wife's pet (I chose a cat because I'm a cat person myself). You see, I was a bit tired of my Readers being afraid and scared and I was also tired of the arranged marriage trope, which is one of my favourites, but everyone needs a break, huh? 😅

WARNINGS — harm to animals mentioned, brief mentions of Feyd's traumatic past, Reader being absolutely spoiled

WORD COUNT — 4,230

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

TAMED

“I want him,” you announced as you put your binoculars down and your lips curled into a smirk.

Your parents looked at each other, confused. You were in the stands as the guests invited to watch Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s gladiator fight. It was his birthday and his uncle made sure all the leaders of the befriended worlds were watching the display of violence and power. The display that made your parents absolutely terrified but you… You were amazed and aroused. The way young Feyd-Rautha defeated his enemies was like a brutal dance; a raw ritual. He was a feral feline and you were known to be a cat lover.

“Excuse me?” Your father asked.

“I want him. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you repeated without even looking at him. Your eyes were focused only on the man in the arena who was raising his knife in a gesture of victory.

“These people are insane,” your mother hissed.

“You keep telling me it’s time for me to find a husband. I want him,” you pouted. You were determined – but not desperate.

“I can talk to Baron Harkonnen. But I am sure he would rather marry his nephew and heir to one of the Imperial Princesses,” your father informed you as your mother gasped at his words. She opposed the idea of this match completely.

“I understand,” you nodded. “Just do whatever it takes so if you fail, I will know you couldn’t possibly do more.”

He reluctantly agreed as he squeezed your cheek as if you were still a little girl. But perhaps it was a good thing that in his eyes you still were one. Because he would do anything to make you happy and fulfil your every whim.

You spotted your father talking to Baron Harkonnen during his nephew’s birthday party but you didn’t want to just stand in the corner and wait for the men to make decisions in your name. Despite your mother’s protests, you approached Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and bowed slightly in sign of respect. He tilted his head, reminding you of a curious cat. You giggled and he squinted his eyes.

“Na-Baron, I couldn’t wait to meet you in person after seeing you fight in the arena,” you admitted.

“Lady (Y/N),” he greeted you coldly. “I wouldn’t expect such interests from a lady like you.”

“And I expected you would know more about the female nature,” you teased him and visibly angered him although he was trying to be on his best behaviour around guests. “Don’t you know that ladies love violence? The interesting ones at least,” you shrugged your arms.

“I don’t care what ladies like,” he answered. “I always get what I want either way.”

“I’m sure you do,” your eyes sparkled at a possibility of being one of the things he would want to claim for himself.

Most noble women were scared and disgusted after hearing all the stories about Feyd-Rautha and his sexual appetite, his psychotic nature. They would approach him only when needed and tried to stay away as far as possible. You were the very rare breed of women who would actually take interest in him and that intrigued him as he looked you up and down.

You gave him one last smile and walked back to your worried mother who was about to scold you for your reckless behaviour. However, for the rest of the night you kept glancing at the young na-baron and he was looking back.

When you left the party, earlier than most people, you made sure to announce loud and clear that you were about to retire to your chambers. Then you looked deep into his eyes and walked out, followed by a servant. You dismissed her when you were in the guest wing and you continued your journey alone and as slow as possible.

You looked around but Feyd-Rautha seemed not to be following you. At least you could not see nor hear him and for a moment you thought you failed. After all, you were not a skilled seductress, you only did what your heart was telling you to do – your heart and your experience with the animals you loved the most. Cats.

And just like a cat and a skilled assassin that he was, Feyd silently emerged from the darkness when you were just about to open the doors leading to your bedroom. He was standing right behind you and his ominous presence sent a shiver down your spine.

“What are you doing, na-baron?” You swallowed thickly and shivered.

“Don’t pretend,” he whispered in his raspy voice. “You’re not the first spoiled noble lady who wants to use me for pleasure,” he told you. “What is it? Are you bored? Or engaged to an awful lord and you ant to find out what it’s like to have fun before you are forced to spend the rest of your life with him? Honestly, I don’t care,” he admitted and turned you around to face him. His touch was rough and for a second you genuinely felt scared when he trapped you between the doors and his muscular body.

The way he was staring down at you felt as if he was penetrating your soul. Only that his eyes were empty. He was gazing into you but you couldn't gaze back because he didn’t have a soul. There was an endless coldness in his pupils. And so much pain.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” you whispered, almost inaudibly, as the tips of your noses brushed against each other. “I am not one of those women. The only man who can take me will be my husband,” you tried to sound convincing and stern but with a small dose of innocence. He blinked slowly, surprised by your confession.

“I thought you wanted me to follow you,” he insisted.

“No,” you lied. “I was only looking at you because I find you interesting,” you looked down. “But it’s sad what you’ve just told me, my Lord,” you added.

“Why?” Feyd was confused as he took a step back.

“I don’t know… I just think you’re so much more than a toy to use for pleasure,” you looked up again to meet his gaze. “I don’t think you should let those ladies treat you like that. I know you keep telling yourself you like it but it’s not you always getting what you want. It’s them always getting what they want until there is nothing left of you, is it not, na-baron?” You batted your eyelashes and he took another step back, like a predator realising that the prey he had caught was poisonous. “Good night, my Lord… and happy birthday,” you gave him a soft smile and disappeared behind the doors leading to your bedroom.

You couldn’t sleep all night, clutching on the bedsheets and hoping for the best outcome. In the morning your father told you that The Baron was slowly starting to like the idea of your marriage union with his nephew. Apparently, he changed his mind after a conversation with Feyd-Rautha in the early morning.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” your father warned you at the sight of your wide smile.

“Oh, papa, I always do,” you assured him, already excited about your new pet kitty.

You stayed on Giedi Prime for a month for the courting process but Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had the privilege of being able to call off the engagement at any moment. That, however, did not happen. He was growing more and more fond of you each day. You were watching him train and walking all around the fortress as he was telling you about his family’s history and culture. You were the most fascinated by the war stories and weapons, always eager to learn more. Always eager to let him steal a kiss here and there, let his hands wander but always stepping back when it would get too heated. You didn’t want him to use you and then discard you. No, he had to be patient for the real reward. Just like cats would lose interest if you let them catch the mouse too quickly.

What you noticed about him, though, was how much he avoided the intimate physical touch. He didn’t mind his opponents striking him or choking him, violating his body in any way, really. But the delicacy was making him flinch and startle to the point of aggression. He wouldn’t lash out at you but he would do that often at the servants. When it was you trying to caress him, he was clenching his jaw and shooting you a deadly glance. The more you knew about him, the more convinced you were that he was just a cat in a human form.

When a month passed, you were scared he would send you away. But instead of doing so, he sent a tailor and a bunch of servants to your room. It was time for you to make all the required fittings for your wedding dress. You sent out the invitations, too. And in the letter addressed to your parents, you mentioned all the things you wanted them to bring you to Giedi Prime.

One of them was your favourite kitty Mephisto.

On the first day of your marriage you were unpacking the boxes from home as Feyd was sitting up in bed and watching you. It was the only day he allowed himself to skip the daily training as the activities between a husband and a wife could count as one, too. However, you required a break and wanted to finally reunite with your favourite items… and your favourite pet.

Feyd’s eyes widened at the sight of a hairless cat in the arms of the servant girl.

“What is that monstrosity?” He asked you.

“That’s Mephisto! My cat!” You took him from the girl’s arms and cuddled him. “Oh, mummy’s been missing you, baby,” you cooed to him and he started to purr.

“You can��t be serious, wife,” Feyd moved closer to inspect the creature with his eyes. Mephisto hissed and you giggled. “That is a cat?”

“You’ve never seen one?” You asked.

“I have. But not like that. It’s ugly,” Feyd scrunched his nose.

“Why ugly?” You gasped and held Mephisto’s head lovingly as if you were protecting him from your husband’s harsh words.

“Cats have fur. This one is so…”

“Bald?” You teased and he closed his mouth, realising the irony. “I have plenty of cats back home but I was aware I couldn’t bring them all here. I chose Mephisto because he is my favourite. We had tough beginnings. He didn’t trust me and he was scratching me a lot. He’s a mean-mean baby,” you leaned in to kiss the cat and Feyd winced as he found it disgusting.

“Do whatever but I don’t want this creature in my chambers,” Feyd stated.

“You’re insane! Mephisto will never leave these chambers. I don’t want him to get lost or hurt in the fortress. Also, he always sleeps with me,” you protested.

Feyd took a deep breath in as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

“If he scratches one thing… I will throw him out of the balcony door,” he threatened.

“If you do that, I will never speak to you again. And certainly I won’t ever share the bed with you, husband. Mephisto is like a child to me. You can’t threaten me this way. It does nothing but anger me,” you pointed out and cuddled the cat. “Aw, Mephisto, look, daddy’s angry.”

“I am not this thing’s… father,” Feyd drawled through gritted teeth as he stood up to put a robe on. “After all, I think I will go train today.”

“Then go,” you shrugged your arms. “I will cuddle with Mephisto in the meantime because I haven’t seen him in a month.”

Feyd shot you an angry glance.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” You looked up as that sudden realisation hit you.

“No,” he snorted. “Of this thing? Please,” he sneered at you and left the chambers.

“We have lots of work with your new daddy, Mephisto,” you chuckled to the kitty and kissed its head. He meowed at you.

Feyd-Rautha absolutely despised your cat. He hated that you allowed that creature to sleep in bed with you and you were always holding him in your arms. When Feyd was working on paperwork – which he hated – Mephisto would often jump on his desk and bother him. Many times when you were out of the room, Feyd had the urge to grab the creature and throw it out of the balcony or even snap its neck but when he actually extended his hands to catch the cat, the urge disappeared.

First of all, he didn’t want to hurt you. And that was a brand new feeling for him because never before had he cared about someone’s feelings like that. And second of all, the moment the cat was in his arms, Mephisto would start to purr and rub his head on Feyd’s hand or chest. Even though at first he found it disgusting, he quickly started to enjoy it. There was something comforting in the cat’s touch. It was not human and yet so pure. As time passed, he was allowing Mephisto to nap on his lap as he worked on the papers. Of course he would quickly put the cat away whenever someone was coming. He didn’t want anyone to see him so weak.

But he was jealous of the cat, too. He was jealous of the kisses and attention he was getting. The belly rubs and scratches behind the ear. The way Mephisto would curl up and sleep on your chest. Feyd craved it from you, too, but he didn’t know how to allow himself to ask for it. It would be humiliating, he thought, but also dangerous. He wanted to trust you but he was not able to. And whenever you tried to touch him gently, he was haunted by the memories he didn’t want to remember. He didn’t cuddle you at night and he didn’t allow you to do the same. While performing the marital duties, he had a feeling they would be even better if he allowed himself a little gentleness but he just couldn’t let his guard down. Not even around you.

For a long time, Mephisto was the only creature that saw the soft side of your husband. When they were alone in your chambers, Feyd would let him not only nap on him but he would also carry him in his arms and pet him. Sometimes he was starting fights for the cat to scratch and bite him and for Feyd it was great fun. They created a bond that you had no idea about. You kept thinking that your husband despised Mephisto and he didn’t mind you thinking this way.

So, when you spotted a scratch on Feyd’s desk one day, you panicked. You quickly covered it with a few papers laying aside and fixed your hair right before your husband walked inside the chambers that afternoon.

“What are you doing here so early?” You asked as he squinted his eyes at you, suspiciously.

“I have to work on the papers, answer some stupid letters,” Feyd sighed and approached you. He put his hands on your waist and inspected your suspicious face. “Is everything alright, wife?” He asked.

“Yes, my dear, perfectly fine,” you faked a smile. “I have to go and work on the preparations for the event next week,” you reminded him and he nodded before leaning in to give you a possessive kiss. He would give you them a few times a day to remind you to whom you belonged. Not that you minded. After all, you had been wanting this from the moment you had seen him in the arena.

“See you later, then, wife,” Feyd sat by the desk and your heart skipped a beat when you spotted him picking up one of the papers you had used to cover the scratch with. However, he didn’t seem to notice the damage done to his desk. You sighed with relief and left the chambers, hoping that Feyd would continue to be blind when it came to that scratch.

But when you came back to your bedroom two hours later, it was empty. You didn’t expect to see Feyd because he had his other duties to perform on that day. What worried you was the fact you couldn’t find your cat. After crawling all over the floor like a madwoman, trying to see if he was not hiding under any furniture, you just burst into tears in the middle of the carpet. You were sure that Feyd had spotted the scratch and gotten rid of your cat. After all, he had threatened to do so on the very first day of your marriage.

You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your forehead on them as you sobbed, hugging yourself. You could only blame yourself. Your parents had been warning you about the Harkonnens but you still wanted a man like Feyd-Rautha as your husband. Hoping to tame him as it would boost your spoiled ego even further to do that. And now your innocent little kitty was a victim of his fury. Was Mephisto still alive? You hoped so. But even if… how would he survive on Giedi Prime? He would not. And you would not either without him. He was your anchor.

You didn’t want to complain about your husband’s homeplanet because you chose him to be your husband yourself. And some part of you loved him – even though at the moment you weren’t so sure anymore – but it was not a friendly place. And it was not pleasant. It was cold and scary and colourless. Mephisto was reminding you of home. Of your other kittens, of your parents, of the real sunlight. He was also letting you love him like your husband would never do. And he was loving you back… unconditionally. And now he was gone. Your little baby.

You couldn’t tell for how long you had been sobbing like this. It could be hours. When Feyd came back to your chambers, he froze at the sight of you in such a position on the carpet.

“What happened, wife?” He asked as he stood above you. You didn’t answer, too angry at him. He sighed and crouched down to be on your level. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes, I am,” you finally looked at him, furiously. He seemed to be surprised. “I am hurt by what you have done. And now you’re going to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about, right? Go to hell. I hate you,” you snapped and hid your face again.

“I don’t understand. Can you explain this to me?” He asked, slowly, trying not to snap back at you.

“Mephisto! You got rid of him!” You sobbed.

“What? I have not…” He stuttered and put his arms on your shoulders to make you look up again. So you did but you were as angry as before.

“Don’t lie to me. You hated that cat and you just threw him away because he scratched your desk. Congratulations, Feyd-Rautha, you got rid of an innocent animal, you won with a sinless little baby; my baby. Are you proud of yourself? Was it a satisfying victory to hurt a little kitty?”

Feyd didn’t answer, he was staring at you as if you were crazy.

“It really feels as if you killed my baby,” you told him. “And I will never forgive you.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t touch him. What happened?” Feyd shook your arms.

“He’s not here. I don’t know what you’ve done to him but he’s not here,” you sniffled.

“I didn’t do anything!” He protested.

“I don’t believe you!” You moved back, you hated to feel his touch on you. You clumsily stood up and curled on the bed. “I don’t want to see you. Go away. I wanted to love you but you’re rotten to the core. You’re just evil. Unlovable,” you muttered.

You couldn’t know how hurtful your words were. But Feyd didn’t blame you because you couldn’t know his true feelings. And he focused more on Mephisto anyway. He was worried about the kitty, too. So, after a while of staring at you without a word, he put his hand on his hip and looked around, as if he would magically find the cat. He even looked under the bed as your sobs filled the room.

Without a word, Feyd left the bedroom and you hugged your own arms as the pillow under your head was getting wet from your tears.

It was dark already and you were half asleep when the doors opened again. It brought you back from the state of slumber but you felt too hopeless to even lift a hand to turn on the light. You recognised Feyd’s silhouette approaching you so you decided to ignore him completely. Nothing could fix this damage. Never.

You felt him sitting on the edge of the bed while turning the bedside lamp on. You squinted your eyes at the sudden brightness.

“I found him,” Feyd’s whisper made your eyes open as you sat up rapidly, utterly shocked at the sight of Mephisto in your husband’s arms.

“Wh-what?” You asked. At first, your sleepy and foggy brain refused to believe that the cat was really your Mephisto.

“He was hiding in the dungeons,” Feyd explained. “I searched through the whole fortress to find him. Hired half of the guards to help me. My uncle found it hilarious,” Feyd handed you the kitty and you sobbed out of relief. Mephisto was stinking but he was alive and healthy. You hugged him tight to your chest. “One of the servants was not cautious enough and left the doors ajar when she was cleaning here.”

“Which one?” You asked, angrily.

“It doesn’t matter. I have dealt with her already,” Feyd assured you and you nodded.

You suddenly began to feel guilty for the way you had treated your husband before. Now, when Mephisto was back in your arms and it was all thanks to Feyd…

“I didn’t expect you to care so much,” you admitted, not wanting to look up and meet his gaze. Your hands focused on caressing the cat. “That you didn’t want me to be sad.”

“You’re my wife of free choice. I don’t want my wife to be sad,” Feyd nodded. “And I wanted the cat back,” he added. You eventually looked up at him, surprised by his confession.

“You hate him,” you reminded him.

“Not at all,” Feyd smirked nervously and you didn’t say anything to that. You had no idea that he actually liked the cat. You still had a lot to learn when it came to the ways in which your husband would show his affection.

“I was cruel to you,” you whispered. “I am sorry.”

“You had your reasons to be,” he only said. “And you were not wrong about me.”

“I was,” you moved to the side gently, making a space in bed for him to lay there, too.

So he did, without a word. And one of his hands actually caressed Mephisto’s head. The cat began to purr and you realised they had already had a bond that you had just not noticed before.

Hesitantly, you dared to raise one of your hands, too. You gently brushed Feyd’s forehead and then his cheek. He didn’t startle this time and you happily began to explore every curve of his beautiful face with your fingertips.

“You’re funny,” you giggled and he looked up, curiously. “You’re the scariest Harkonnen but you’re also the prettiest,” you admitted and he blushed a little. You had never expected to see him blush. “And look at you, you allow me to touch you.”

“It feels good when you do that,” Feyd closed his eyes just like Mephisto had his own pair shut close. You swore, if your husband was an actual animal, he would start purring under your touch.

You felt proud of yourself to tame him. You had known from the moment you had seen him that you would succeed. But it was not the pride that made your heart swell. It was love. There was something about Feyd-Rautha that just made you want to treat him like a kitty, too. Scratch him behind his ear and let him sleep on your chest. Most ladies would call you insane for that but you knew him in a way they would never know him. You leaned in to place a kiss upon Mephisto’s forehead and then you did the same to Feyd-Rautha.

“I’m sorry I have doubted you,” you whispered to him. “You would never hurt me, am I right?”

He only hummed in response, moving even closer to your body. You smiled to yourself.

“I have tamed you, husband, have I not?”

But he didn’t reply. He was already asleep, snoring lightly. You had never seen his face so relaxed and carefree before. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know the answer.

And as much as you loved Mephisto like your own little baby… You had a new favourite pet now.

MASTERLIST

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queenofmistresses · 6 hours

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queenofmistresses · 6 hours

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queenofmistresses · 6 hours

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Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

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queenofmistresses · 6 hours

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Hey it's my birthday!! All I want is coffee to give me energy, which I will use to draw comics and fend off the transphobes!

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queenofmistresses · 10 hours

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AHHHH just backed Holly Black’s kickstarter for a cruel prince card gamee

#wooo

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queenofmistresses · 10 hours

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So few of us english people 😔😔

wait what time zone are u in..???? i feel like u post at the weirdest times for me LMFAOOO

i’m english !! so im probably a good few hours behind or in front of you lol

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queenofmistresses · 11 hours

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These Destined Ends

Part Twelve

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: 3.5k

Warnings: goodbye to Giedi Prime, no foreplay, fucking with ✨a view✨

A/N: I was planning on making this a long(er) installment but my monkey brain needs the instant gratification of updating the story😂 Hopefully Part Thirteen will be up soon, too. Thank you for being patient with me!

Amongst the hustle and bustle of moving, servants rushing in and out with your belongings and Feyd barking out orders, you kneel down next to the synthetic plant. You check twice that no one is paying attention to you before reaching inside, running your fingers along the inner lip of the pot and past clumps of fake dirt. Finally you connect with something and a triumphant fissure erupts in you at the sight of the fertility necklace.

You clutch it in your hand.

While you don’t intend to use it, it’s the last link to your mother that you have. You can’t believe you almost forgot it — it seems like a small eternity since your wedding. You had almost completely wiped it from your memory since you hid it, remembering only because Jessica and the Bene Gesserits were at the forefront of your mind.

You drop the necklace into a pocket of your dress before anyone sees it.

“Do you know what today is, wife?”

You catch Feyd loping towards you, seemingly having forfeited his supervising responsibilities.

“Mm, the day we get a lovely chat with the Reverend Mother?” You ask, distracted by the weight of the necklace.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten.”

You blink, then center your focus on him, on the fleeting look of smugness he has. “It’s today.”

Feyd’s eyes glint. He pounds his fist to his chest three times, drawing the attention of the servants who stop what they’re doing and straighten in response. You wave them away, grabbing your husband by the crook of his elbow and pulling him into the corner.

“Must you insist on doing that so often?” You chide him. “We would already be on Arrakis if they didn’t have to keep pausing for you.”

The grin on his face tells you that he is not even the slightest bit apologetic. “Can I not dedicate servitude to my wife on our anniversary?”

“Our anniversary of one month,” you remind him.

“A perfect opportunity to laud you.”

“You can laud yourself over there to help that poor man.” You indicate a servant struggling with a particularly heavy trunk of belongings.

Feyd narrows his eyes. “He’s fine.”

“Feyd-Rautha.”

Your husband considers your tone, then turns and delivers another three-strike salute to his chest. He’s darting away before you can reprimand him for it, snarling for a second servant to help with the heavy lifting instead of himself.

Shaking your head, you can’t but smile privately. It warms you to see Feyd like this, the charismatic, alluring side of him that you so rarely glimpse. He usually deploys it in political situations, a switch that he can flick on at will, but it seems genuine today. Perhaps the anniversary of your wedding has lifted his mood in light of his brother’s engagement.

Either that, or the fact that the first step of your plan would be initiated today.

You liked to believe it was the latter.

It’s midday before you’re called to receive the Reverend Mother, and sweat beads between your shoulder blades. To calm your pounding heart, you think of Caladan: the spray of the sea against the rocky crags, the rare peal of your mother’s laughter, and how it all had been stolen from you by those like the Baron and the Reverend Mother. People who thought their agenda more important than the lives of those carrying it out for them.

Your vengeance keeps you sharp, your smile like a knife as you approach the Reverend Mother.

“Thank you for meeting with me earlier than we planned,” you greet her.

She replies, “You said it was urgent, though I sense that, once again, your womb is empty.”

“Yes,” you say, stifling the urge to choke her with those stupid chains. Hopefully the saccharine tone of your voice does not betray your inner thoughts. “I called you here for a related reason.”

“And what might that be?”

“You were wrong about Feyd-Rautha.”

The Reverend Mother visibly recoils. “Tell me what’s on your mind now, girl, I do not have the time for your vague accusations.”

“How do you truly know that he’s destined to sire the Kwisatz Haderach? He is…unpredictable,” you say. “Perhaps your calculations are wrong. It could explain why I am not yet pregnant.”

“Does he know you voice this concerns?” The Reverend Mother asks with a sniff.

Your lips press together. “Of course not.”

“Keep it that way. Feyd-Rautha is just as destined to sure the Kwisatz Haderach as you are to bear it from your womb.” You can feel her scrutiny from under her decorated veil. “You were defiant before about your arrangement. Why are you questioning his authenticity now?”

“As you remember, you assessed me under the Gom Jabbar. Feyd-Rautha has had no such assessment. What if he were to fail?”

The Reverend Mother considers this. “You suggest that we test him.”

“Yes.”

“Do you believe him likely to succumb?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” you reply, “only that his capabilities have not been proven by your standards.”

“You speak as if this is an oversight on our part,” the Reverend Mother says, rising to her feet. A bolt of uncertainty shoots through you.

“I mean no offense. I am simply voicing my concerns, as you said.”

“You leave soon for Arrakis?”

“In a few hours.” You try to look sheepish. “You can see why I demanded urgency.”

The Reverend Mother doesn’t immediately reply. You’re not sure what she sees when she gazes upon you. When she finally does speak, her voice is begrudging: “I shall see that Feyd-Rautha is tested by the Gom Jabbar, though I hardly think it necessary to facilitate now.”

“But what if he fails? I am wasting my time with him,” you counter, perhaps too quickly.

The Reverend Mother must mistake the haste in your voice for panic. “I will visit you on Arrakis in one week. We shall test him then.”

You dip your chin, acquiescent. “Thank you, Reverend Mother.”

The Reverend Mother has no sooner left before Asha scurries to you, her eyes wide. “I overheard everything. It won’t be ready by then.”

“It has to be.”

After your disconcerting dinner with the Baron, you made it your top priority to mend things with Asha. Albeit, less messy than your reunion with Feyd. Asha was only too quick to forgive you and gush her own apologies, which you reassured were not necessary. You had explained to her the plan you created with your husband that very night, while lying side by side in bed, voices whispered, his fingers dragging across your skin.

You had uttered plans to destroy his family like they were sonnets of a poem, threaded with love and unwavering devotion.

Asha, of course, eagerly agreed to assist you with the plan.

“These things, it takes time, and without having an actual reference —”

You lower your voice as not to be heard by anyone lingering nearby. “Tell them I will double their pay. It must be delivered to me on Arrakis in a week’s time.”

“Okay.” Asha hardly looks convinced.

“The promise of coin is an excellent tonic for idleness,” you say. You allow a small smile. “I wish it would change your mind.”

You had invited Asha to join you on Arrakis but she had swiftly declined, ever after you swore a higher salary. You would do anything to guarantee her company.

“I belong here, Y/N,” Asha says, “I know it must be difficult to believe. I imagine you felt the same about Caladan.”

You stiffen slowly. Oh, how lovely it must be to make your own decisions and live where you choose. Subconsciously, you know you could order her to join you and she would have no choice but to say yes. But you would not sacrifice her happiness for your own. “I understand.”

“Are you…disappointed?”

Feyd glances at you. You both stand in the whirl of a thopter’s wings, the force of it billowing your skirts and the red scarf you’ve draped over your head and shoulders in preparation for Arrakis. Your hand sits on your forehead like a shield for the sun — the last time you would see it, a dark, unblinking eye in the white sky.

The light casts Feyd in sharp contrast.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“This…is your home,” you say, “will you not miss it?”

As if prompted by your question, he surveys the barren landscape, factories belching smoke in the distance as servants finish preparing your things for space flight. You think that he might not answer when he eventually says, “This place has always been more prison than home. I will be glad to rid myself of it.”

You want to reach out and grab his hand, but it feels wrong in this instance, when you wear your mantles of na-Baron and na-Baroness like armor.

Instead, you take to inspecting the same land that your husband does. You can’t even imagine the horrors he’s experienced here. And, unlike you, with your life scattered across several planets, Feyd had only known Giedi Prime — its cruelty and hardships and penchant for violence.

Though Arrakis is hardly a paradise, you hope he will find reprieve there.

“I can’t believe I’m going back,” you mutter. Your throat thickens. “And my parents won’t be there. I…I didn’t imagine it would be like this.”

“A soldier who dies in battle holding a weapon is guaranteed a place in the Heavens. If they were anything like you, they died fighting.”

You smile, blinking appreciatively at him. “I didn’t know you were religious, Feyd-Rautha.”

“I have little care for the Orange Catholic Bible. But there is comfort in knowing that there might be sanctuary for those who have spent their lives in battle.”

“Like you?”

You’re not sure what prompts you to ask it, but he turns sharply to regard you. His eyes scan your face, then the slightest of smiles graces his lips. “I’m afraid that there is no sanctuary for someone like me, jewel, but you’ve certainly ruined me by giving me a taste.”

Your chest tightens with emotion. You want to respond but it’s then that you’re beckoned over to the thopter. Feyd’s gaze flickers behind you and the moment is lost. “Be quick, wife.”

Be quick?

A pair of arms circle around you, making stumble. You automatically lean into their embrace while Feyd retreats to give you time to say goodbye, though you hardly notice with the tears springing to your eyes and blurring your vision.

You’re loathe to leave Asha here. She clings to you tightly, and you know that she wishes it could be different.

“You will come visit,” you tell her fiercely.

Asha withdraws an inch. “Of course.”

“And you will send me monthly — no, weekly updates.” You give her a stern look. “You will spare no details. I command you as your na-Baroness.”

“I suppose I have no choice then.”

You grin at her. “No you do not.”

Asha draws you in again, then whispers, “Your promise of coin worked.” She recovers, saying louder, “Now go. The na-Baron looks anxious for you to join him.”

“Thank you, Asha. For everything. You are my dearest friend.”

Asha offers you one last smile then bows to you. Aware that half of the fortress is watching, you spin on your heel and make your way to the thopter, to your na-Baron, and to your uncertain future.

“I can’t say it’s good to be back,” you report dryly as the heighliner descends. The expanse of desert stretches out before you, Arrakeen, shield wall visible just on the horizon. It shimmers slightly in the low lighting, duel suns casting a glow as they prepare for nighttime.

You’re escorted by a horde of Harkonnen soldiers in their all-black armor through a crowd of Arrakis natives. The handful of Fremen are easy enough to spot with their blue-on-blue eyes — you think them to be hostile of you, considering your Harkonnen marriage, but most regard you with curiosity. As you pass, you hear a rumbling in the crowd that you catch snippets of:

“…the Holy Mother of the Kwisatz Haderach…”

“I hear she’s no Bene Gesserit witch as they claim.”

“…does she already look pregnant to you?”

It displeases you, these vast speculations, but do your best not to reveal it. The truth of your education is not widely known. You were a shameful blot on the tapestry the Bene Gessrits have woven, and instructed by your mother upon first arrival on Arrakis not to tell anyone.

The prophecy foretold you to be part of the sisterhood, so that was the facade you upheld.

A Fremen woman twists free from the crowd. You’re too stunned to push her away before she lays a hand on your lower abdomen. Her blue-on-blue eyes shine vibrantly.

“I have touched the womb of the Holy Mother,” the woman says in a tremulous voice, “the womb which will bear our sacred Messiah.”

You stare, open-mouthed, as two Harkonnen soldiers grab under her arms and drag her away, still spouting heretics about your womb. The last you see of her is her feet dragging in the sand as she’s sucked into the crowd. Unease travels across your skin like goosebumps despite the stifling heat; you’re grateful to have worn the headscarf, as it hopefully masks your alarm.

“I should’ve had her hands removed for daring to touch you,” Feyd hisses under his breath.

He glowers the remaining way to the Arrakeen palace. It’s difficult to say if any of the remaining Fremen are eager to replicate the scene, but they’re surely discouraged now by your husband.

“That would’ve reflected poorly on us,” you say.

“I don’t care.”

You bump arms with him, stepping closer as not to be overheard. “You cannot blame them for their exuberance. They have been manipulated by the Bene Gesserits for centuries now. They believe our child to be their savior.”

A look of discomfort crosses Feyd’s face but he elects not to respond. Together you’re admitted through the airtight entrance into the palace, which is promptly sealed again. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust but when they do, you’re rooted to the spot by confusion.

The palace is exactly the same. You’ve memorized it from your long days stuck inside, but the decor and furniture are completely different. You suppose you expected to see it mostly the same, perhaps ransacked or destroyed, a standing tomb from the life before — not this, a space crafted entirely new.

The Harkonnen soldiers dispatch, probably to sweep for spies, leaving you alone with Feyd for the first time since your exchange with the Baron.

Your brows furrow as you say, “I don’t understand.”

“I hope it’s to your approval.”

“You did this?”

“I thought it would make the transition…easier,” he tells you. “Everything that was salvageable has been taken to a storage vault for safe keeping in case you later feel so inclined to see it.”

Gratitude swells inside you. “The entire palace?”

Feyd indicates for you to continue onward. He trails after you as you explore the halls, amusement etched on his face as he observes you peeking into each room for confirmation. It’s only once you’ve reached the bedroom meant for the man and lady of the house that he stops you.

“I’ve deigned to move our personal belongings to the next biggest suite,” he says, “this room is considered off limits.”

Relief washes over you — you won’t have to stay where your parents slept, where your mother would venture nightly from her quarters to slip under the covers with your father. Your throat thickens. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say nothing.”

His gesture moves you deeply, but it’s hard to miss the streaks of residual lasgun burn marks on the walls, the unfamiliar servants now in your employ. And you’re not sure if it’s your imagination or not but you sense a heaviness within the palace as if the weight of the deaths press on you from all sides.

The intricate care taken to packing your belongings is now undone over the next few hours. At least here everything is in color and there’s a human warmth that was always lacking on Giedi Prime. You sneak glances at Feyd on occasion to gauge his reaction, but he maintains his casual indifference to it all.

It would be impossible to tell if he’s masked his feelings or if he really doesn’t care. Either way, relief loosens your mind when night descends and the servants are sent away to rest, leaving you alone with Feyd. There are no pretenses you need to hold — not that it would matter if you tried. His attention is already fastened to you, analyzing.

“Let me help you out of your dress,” he offers in his rasping voice.

You obey, turning your back to him so that he may untie the laces running up your spine. You suspect that he would normally make quick work of such a task, it’s not like he’s unfamiliar with the process, but his fingers are clumsy, grazing. Feyd crowds close to you, his mouth hovering over the shell of your ear.

“Did everything go as planned?”

You nod, humming. It’s hard not to get distracted with him near you like this. “Yes. She will be here next week to assess you.”

“Perfect.”

“It truly could not have gone better,” you admit to him with a splash of self-satisfaction.

He drops a kiss to your bare shoulder as he eases the dress down over it. “I was talking about you, jewel.”

Twisting, you meet his mouth with yours. Feyd’s hands instantly grab at your waist and spins you the rest of the way until you’re pressed together. You allow the dress to slide down and pool at your feet, which you step out of as Feyd pedals backward, taking you with him. His kiss grows deeper. Attempting to take the lead, you tug him towards the bed, but Feyd has other ideas.

“No, no, come here,” he rasps. Like the tide eroding the sand, you let him guide you to the floor-length window. The glass against your skin is still warm from the twin suns.

“Here?” You gasp into him.

Feyd is too busy discarding his own clothes to answer immediately. “Let all of Arrakis see their na-Baroness,” he murmurs, mouth reuniting with yours with renewed passion.

His touch coasts down your side to your thighs, lifting you so that you can settle your legs around his waist. The vantage point giving your center access to his hardened length. Your body bows in response to him, ribbons of desire reaching out to capture you, binding you to him.

It’s without warning that Feyd drives inside you. He grunts as his cock splits your cunt, walls protesting at his size, the force of his intrusion. You bite down on his shoulder as pain intertwines with pleasure, muffling your cries until his thrusts have thoroughly slickened you. And Feyd never relents, bucking his hips into you with wild enthusiasm.

You’re not sure how it’s possible but every touch — every thrust, every kiss — catapults you to the edge of a precipe from which you willingly step over, languishing in the free fall. Someday you might hit the ground, but that doesn’t frighten you as it should. You would do it over and over again as long as he was the one to bring you there. All things considered, it was his hands pushing you off the ledge, prompting you to fall, to spiral down into the chasm he created — and his hands who ultimately catch you.

Feyd eventually lets you back down on your feet only to twirl you around again. His arms snake around you, hands cupping your breast. You moan as he pinches your nipples, rolls them between his fingers, his breath hot on the side of your neck. Feyd wastes no time returning his cock to your weeping cunt, using his knee to spread apart your legs.

It feels as if you can see all of Arrakis from here as Feyd pummels into you: the cresting desert beyond the city, the shield wall, lights flickering in the distance. You wonder if anyone can see you now, make out your blurred shape high above them getting properly fucked by the man who rules over them. The thought fills you with molten heat, pulsing over you in waves of pleasure as you imagine an audience to your fucking.

Feyd laughs like he knows this. “What shall we say when our people discover their na-Baroness is a whore?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you pant, “you’d kill anyone who even hints at it.”

He snaps his hip to you, grunting in approval.

It’s not long after that he coaxes your final orgasm from you, coming himself soon after. The lights of Arrakeen merge, brighten, as you unravel beneath him; the subsequent bliss of him coating you with his seed. Once he’s wrung his pleasure from you, he pulls you against him, your back flush with his chest. You stay like that for quite some time as you both catch your breath, looking out over the planet you inherited together.

“It’s all ours,” Feyd rasps.

“What an anniversary gift,” you reply, grinning as you watch him in the reflection of the glass.

“If you asked of it I would gift you the entire Known Universe.”

“I know,” you tell him. “Maybe next month.”

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney @stopeatread @the-na-baroness @therealslimshady-1 @unnisumi

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queenofmistresses · 12 hours

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Hey. Hey you. The person aimlessly scrolling, stuck in an immobilized standoff with your brain

It's not your fault. You won't be stuck forever. I know you're trying. I know you hate it. It's ok.

And tell the Mean Voice in your head that it's not helping. It knows as well as you do that you would get up and Just Start the task if you could. You're not doing this on purpose.

Take a deep breath. Relax your jaw. I see you trying so hard to break out of it, but you can't force it. You'll get Unstuck eventually. All you can do in the interim is be kind to yourself.

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queenofmistresses · 12 hours

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yall better be just as outraged about this as you were about notre dame

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queenofmistresses · 13 hours

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two sheep. standing still

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queenofmistresses · 13 hours

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Feyd keeping his wife company when she gives birth.

What if the baby is breech?

I’m trying to imagine Feyd holding a tiny infant for the first time lmao 🤣

And they work together to stop the Baron from taking the child away.

“The baby is breech.”

The physician, who had been taking great lengths not to interact with the na-Baron, regards him with poorly disguised terror.

Feyd, who has been standing at your side, snarls at him, “What does that mean?”

“It means the baby isn’t head first,” you tell him. Exhaustion wears at you. And now panic worms its way through your mind.

“Then fix it,” Feyd snaps.

“I-I can try. But it’s going to cause some discomfort.” The physician looks as if he would sooner rather swallow his own tongue.

Feyd glares. The physician takes this as an invitation to start, and you clamp down on Feyd’s hand. Applying firm pressure, the physician starts to coax the baby to turn external. You inhale sharply — the sensation is strange, painful, and you do your best to mask your discomfort for the sake of the physician but Feyd knows you too well.

“That’s not helping. There must be another way,” he rasps. Something akin to fear tinges his voice.

The physician wrings his hands. “The only other option is a cesarean delivery.”

“You’re not harming her,” Feyd says.

You squeeze his hand. “It’s the only way. Otherwise there might be complications that could kill us both.” A contraction seizes you then and you cry out. Feyd mumbles praise to you as you endure it, then turns sharply to the physician as if he did this to you, not himself.

“Fine. You’ve done this before?”

The physician nods and offers a smile. “Many times, na-Baron.”

Feyd has seen many things in his life, has been the catalyst that puts more men and women in their graves than he could count. Most of their deaths had ended in a bloody mess.

But never before did he think that life could be born from such gruesome measures.

The physician is quick to suck up the blood from the incision on your abdomen, giving Feyd just enough time to watch his daughter be pulled from you, bloodied and purple. His breath catches. He’s given the chance to sever the umbilical cord, to see the organ that you had grown only to feed his child. Awe spirals through him during the whole process, carrying him through the next moments of stroking your hair and murmuring his adoration as the physician closes the incision.

One second he is by your side, the next, a nurse is handing him a swaddled white blanket.

Feyd blinks stupidly at the nurse. In his disbelief of your body and admiration of your strength, he had completely forgotten about his daughter.

“No, I —”

The nurse beams at him. “She is beautiful.”

Feyd is given no choice but to take his daughter in his arms, the nurse instructing him where to cradle her head. “My husband was nervous about our first, too,” the nurse says fondly.

“I’m not,” he snaps.

You can’t help but smirk as you observe the interaction. It amuses you, to see him like this. Normally fiercely confident and self assured, reduced now to a bumbling fool when handed a tiny newborn. His posture is stiff, expression uncertain as he meets your eyes, and the tiniest of smiles graces his lips.

The next few days pass in a blur of bliss and sleepless nights. You have just settled your daughter down and risked a quick wobble to the bathroom when you hear raised voices in the other room. Figuring it’s Feyd — probably arguing with some servant — you quickly relieve yourself. You were right, it is Feyd, but not a servant that he’s vehemently arguing with.

It’s the Baron.

Your molars grind together at the sight of him. Feyd stands between his uncle and your daughter, who slumbers on, unaware. His hands are fists at his sides.

“Absolutely not,” Feyd growls.

“I did not come here to give you a choice,” the Baron retorts. “You knew since the beginning that your child did not belong to you.”

Red flares in your vision. “If it was a son. We had a daughter,” you remind him, gesturing to the cot.

The Baron regards you with disinterest. You were never more to him than a vessel in which to host Feyd’s seed. “While unforeseen, the Bene Gesserits insist upon raising the child. Truly you did not believe it would stay here.”

It.

“She will go nowhere with you,” Feyd says.

“Very well.” The Baron glides towards the door on his suspenders. “Then the Reverend Mother will be here in a day’s time to collect the child.”

It’s not an easy decision — but you make it in the quiet of the night, blanketed by fear and grief. The nurse from before agrees to steal away your child and pass it off as her own, at least long enough for the conflict with the Bene Gesserits to pass. Tears stream down your face as you watch the nurse’s retreating form. Feyd stands silently beside you, stoic and emotionless. Finally he presses a breathy kiss to your temple.

“It’s better this way,” he whispers to you.

You lay eyes on your daughter again when she is two years of age, face round and eyes curious as she regards the two strangers in her doorway — the tall, broad man with the severe mouth and the woman next to him.

Your smile wavers. “Hello.”

#well now i’m sad

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