#Marie Fenring

[sebastianswallows]

girldad!Feyd Headcanons

— WARNINGS: angst, but also fluff — A/N: In the canon, Feyd’s daughter with Margot was named Marie Fenring, and she dies a tragic death at quite a young age. This is going to be a completely self-indulgent fix-it. Enjoy ✨

Sure, he’s the most violent and unhinged madman this side of Gamma Waiping, but even Feyd knows there’s a time and place for everything.

The time being when the Atreides are defeated and the Emperor rewards him and he’s free to go after the Fenrings with his Harkonnen troops.

First, they find Count Hasimir, a frail little man with rodent-like features and thin greying hair. The Emperor’s oldest friend, and the best assassin in the known universe. Feyd knows better than to take him on in single combat, so he has his men deal with him while he goes after Margot.

He finds her in the furthest room of their castle past a cadre of guards that he makes short work of. She’s holding a little girl’s hand… Small and pale with thick dark ringlets, she looks just like he did as a child. He can tell even past the thick visor of the helm he wears — something made to not only protect but also block out sound. Margot knows it’s him just by his gait. She speaks, but it doesn’t matter. Her voice has no effect this time.

He sees the flash of a laser on the wall as his men join him and block the only exit. Feyd walks over to Margot, uncoils the little girl’s hand from hers, and takes her away. Lady Fenring will be brought to Kaitain to answer for her crimes against the once-young na-Baron. The Bene Gesserits, humbled after their near defeat on Arrakis, will not defend her actions — she has already served her purpose anyway.

The little girl looks up at him as they walk away with an unsettling and knowing light in her dark eyes. Feyd gazes down at her and, although she could not see his face, it was as if they’d always known each other.

But he also notices her little legs can hardly keep up with his stride. Oh, that’s right, children are smaller… He stops, kneels, and lifts her up into his arms as he carries her back to the ship.

He was actually nervous about taking off his helmet in front of her. What would she think of seeing a Harkonnen for the first time? They were so different from the soft and sunkissed people of the planet she was raised on…

But she had an eery calm to her even at the age of seven standard years. She regards him no differently than before and also does not acknowledge any need for reverence, even when he tells her who he is.

“Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.” “Hello.” “And what’s your name?” “Marie.”

He found himself genuinely shy when he informed her he was her father, and was all the more surprised to find an impish smile grow on her face. “I know.” Margot must have told her after all…

She doesn’t cry, she doesn’t seem afraid, but Feyd comforts her the whole way to their home planet. He pets her dark crown of curls as she sits beside him on the ship, supports her back when she drinks, and makes out of galactic maps the most unusual of toys to distract her with on the long journey back. None of it comes naturally to him and for the first time he has to think before he acts. It leaves his nerves rattled, but every time she looks up into his eyes and smiles so innocently he gains his calm again.

Giedi Prime was not the first place he had in mind for raising a child, but the other planets he could lay claim to — Lankiveil and Arrakis — were not great choices either. Now that he was Baron, this was where he had to be — at least until the Emperor decided who should govern Arrakis following the trouble with the Fremen. The Corrinos left a cadre of Mentats in charge to oversee the change for now.

She hates the planet at first, scrunching up her little face at the stark white light during the day, at the poisonous smoke, at the vast black wastes filled with petrol. Feyd engages an ecologist the first week Marie is there and plans a series of greenhouses for her with the best water filtration systems spice can buy.

“Why can’t the whole planet be like this?” she asks when he first shows it to her. They walk through young trees, Feyd dodging thin branches of raw red and green while his daughter skips ahead like a lamb. “Because it just can’t,” he mutters. “But why?” “Because it would cost too much.” “How much?” “I don’t know.” “Why not?”

A secret communication arrives to the Emperor inquiring whether he has room in his court for a new assassin now that Hasimir Fenring is gone.

His days are split between official duties, training in the arena, and playing with Marie. He discovers a part of himself again when he is with her — that innocent part that had been lost or buried when he first got to Giedi Prime. There is a satisfaction in making it for her a less brutal arrival, even a pleasant one.

He finds her laughing as she runs through the long halls, tugging on the lances of the guards — who look horrified at the sight of a playful child for the first time, but stay obediently still — and throwing rocks into the oil pools outside the palace to gawk at the pretty rainbow colours.

She loves the vaporous transparent gowns the servants wear, and the servants love her too. They dote on her, fearfully at first but more boldly when they notice Feyd’s approval. The retention rate goes up starkly at the palace, as does the average longevity.

Everyone is puzzled about what to do with her hair, but Marie teaches Feyd to braid it the way her mother did. She’s not shy about berating him either whenever he gets it wrong.

And most nights he falls asleep with her in one arm and a holographic storyreel in the other. He wants to be the sort of parent he only briefly had, the kind he vaguely remembers from his years on Lankiveil.

He dreams of his mother now more than he ever did, and wakes up feeling sorry for how much he falls short. He has no idea how to care for a child, no idea of how to raise her, but he knows he wants to try. Wants to succeed, for her. Marie might not have been an intended child, the way he was, but she was his own flesh and blood and he’d be damned before he made her feel unwanted.

His harpies love her, of course. But he fears they do a bit too much and dismisses them not one month after Marie arrives on the planet. While he’s never indulged, he can only imagine with a frightful shiver how sweet and tender a child’s flesh is.

To the consternation of his people, he flies in tutors from other planets for her. Philosophers from Ecaz, musicians from Chusuk, biologists from Lernaeus, and even a historian from Kaitain itself. She has a Mentat but no Bene Gesserit to serve in her education. His uncle had been wrong about a lot of things, but the scheming of witches was not one of them.

Her bedroom — more white and pale blue than the standard inky black, and decorated with pink ribbons — has a court of dollies on one side and toy swords on the other. Feyd’s love of weaponry does not escape her and, in her childish innocence, she’s fascinated by it all. He takes delight in this, of course, but worries too. Imagining his little child with blood on her hands scares him, and it makes him wonder what sort of person his uncle was to encourage it in him.

In loving her, Feyd’s never felt more unloved himself. Sure, he had his mother and father at one point, but all of that was taken from him when he was Marie’s age. Since then, nobody had cared about him, nobody had even wanted him unless it was to fulfil a purpose. Not his uncle, not his brother, not even Margot…

He comforted himself now that he’d spared Marie of such a fate. His little girl would not become a glorified breeding horse for the Bene Gesserits nor a pawn in the Emperor’s games. He would fill her life with all the things he never had.

Marie grows as the gardens grow, and Feyd begins to speak with the professor from Lernaeus and a retired planetologist from Acline about plans for terraforming Giedi Prime, and one day putting Marie in charge. Her lessons become more structured.

A fact to which she protests, but not for long. She is clever for her age, and understanding, and nobody can explain to her better than Feyd that, although learning can seem useless and boring compared to play, she needs to prepare for the years to come.

“You like the gardens, don’t you?” “Yes…” “And you like eating fruit, right?” “Yes, and smelling flowers.” “What if you could do that all the time, then? Not just in the greenhouses?”

She comes to like the skies of Giedi Prime as well, and the way fireworks look like ink blots. Her every birthday is marked with an array of black and white that make the sky a work of art.

Marie never asks to be the sort of Baroness that always lays around, because Feyd doesn’t do that either. As she grows older he starts to spend more time with her during the day, letting her sit in on meetings, and they debate for hours afterwards on what course the Barony should take. He finds she is more brave than he is, but more reckless too.

“No, little melon, we can’t just declare war on them.” “But why? You know they’re spying on us…” “Yes, but we have no proof.” “Of course we have proof. How would you know otherwise?” “Proof needs to be physical or recorded.” “Let’s record them spying, then.” “Well now they know that we know, so they will have a different approach.” “I still think war would end the problem faster. Or challenge them to a duel!” “I’m getting too old for this…”

They see more of the planet together too, venturing to the caves and crevices that run beneath the surface, taking samples of the native life bubbling in hot springs and collecting crystalline samples.

He takes her to Lankiveil for her fifteenth birthday and they sail together through its icy floes. She loves the sign of whales off in the distance and sounding the ship’s horn, although the local food leaves much to be desired.

“It smells weird.” “It’s fish.” “They stink…” “You want a salad instead?” “Yes, please…”

By the time she turns eighteen, the Emperor has decided to put Arrakis back into Harkonnen hands, and Feyd is terrified. As bad as Giedi Prime is, he wants to see her on Dune even less. Marie can tell this, observant as she is. She’s grown more quiet when she’s thinking and less rash with her decisions, but loud when she wants to be, and daring.

Feyd doesn’t know what to expect of Arrakis anymore and has mixed feelings about it, but he knows one thing for certain: anyone who’s a threat to his daughter there, dies.

“I’ll miss Giedi Prime,” she says as they’re approaching orbit. “It’s finally getting green in places, and rainclouds have begun to form…” “You can go back any time, you know,” says Feyd immediately. “I won’t keep you on this piece of hell…” “I’ll stay,” says Marie. She has the same strange determination she had in her eyes the day they met. “I heard it has old terraforming stations… I’ll want to visit them one day.”

It isn’t easy ruling a desert planet, even one that’s been subdued, but the new spice flow makes it worth it. Feyd keeps Marie close, teaches her everything, watches her grow, and soon she’s sent in delegations reporting to the Landsraad. She represents House Harkonnen better than her great uncle did — and, to Feyd’s pride, better than he ever could.

[eviemaev]

“You were never my friend.”

Alia Atreides and Marie Fenring ( paul of dune )

[houserautha]

Out of curiosity I looked up what happens to Feyd-Rautha’s daughter with Margot and I made myself sad🥲

[medievalcat]

Margot & Marie Fenring, mother and daughter.

Dune by Frank Herbert | Dune Part Two (2024) | Sharp Objects by Gillian Flynn | Herodias and Salome with the head of Saint John the Baptist by Mattia Preti, ca. 1640 | "Mother" by Danzig | Tristan + Isolde (2006) | Dune by Frank Herbert

[that-red-r2-that-blew-up]

I know they're not gonna do this, but I hope that if/when Marie Fenring is introduced in the Dune movies, she looks exactly the same as Feyd-Rautha, except with a little bow stapled to her bald head like these edits I found on Pinterest

She's played by Austin Butler of course, Denis just makes him crouch the whole time

[antigonenikk]

I hate that feyd died but im glad he never had see marie being forced to endure the same type of dehumanizing abuse he was subjected to…..

[theartbishop324]

My head cannon of Marie Fenring if she ever grew up. And yes, black hair and no eyebrows like her dad just cause I thought it more fitting.

[fandomlife-confessions]

[acabspocky]

Marie, sweet girl, RED ALERT

[pugetprincess]

Just finished reading about Feyd-Rautha and Margot Fenring's daughter and she too has such a depressing story! Feyd's line really cannot catch a break and cannot be at peace from being used by everyone around them.

Like, Marie dies at the age of 6 because Margot trains her to be an assassin and then has Marie attempt to kill Paul. Instead, Paul's sister stabs her and she dies. Wut.

[thecoffeelorian]

Show of likes...who's gonna be jealous of Margot Fenring this year?

😉

[eviemaev]

Marie Fenring and Alia Atreides ( au where marie never died and they stayed as friends :// )

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since y’all liked the other drawing i made of alia and marie, decided to make another one :’)

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follow on insta; serenlas

[lady-phasma]

I read a post that stated that Marie Fenring suffered under the hands and manipulation of her mother, Lady Margot, the same way Feyd suffered? Was lady Margot a really horrible mother?

Sorry this took me so long. I was really trying to give it some thought (and I've been really busy).

Honestly, I haven't read the newer Dune books. I googled Marie and found that she appeared in Paul of Dune (written by Frank Herbert's son, 2008). The Dune wiki entry for her isn't long, but it's interesting.

If I understood correctly, she was killed at age 6. I really did want to give my best to this answer but I've only read Dune and Messiah.

I would say, yes, she was a horrible mother insofar as she allowed her six year old to become an assassin. At least that's what I got from the wiki. I wish I had a better answer, but I also haven't see the post you mentioned.

[medievalcat]

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen & Marie Fenring, father and daughter.

"I'm Nobody! Who are you?" by Emily Dickinson | Jacek Jędral, Untitled, 2020 | "Black Bathing Suit" by Lana del Rey | Moebius' Dune concept art, 1974 | Imogen by Herbert Gustave Schmalz, 1888 | "Poacher's Pride" by Nicole Dollanganger | unknown | "Anecdote of the Pig" by Tory Adkisson | The Abduction of Ganymede, Gustav Moreau, 1886 | Snow Maiden, Viktor Vasnetsov, 1899 | A Storm of Swords by George R. R. Martin

[sebastianswallows]

Feyd-Rautha — sad headcanons

— WARNINGS: angst, mentions of kidnapping, child molestation, mentions of Feyd's child by Margot (Marie Fenring), it's just dark and depressing I'm sorry

— A/N: @localravenclaw asked for headcanons yesterday, here you go girly, no returns. This is a hybrid of book and movie Feyd.

His first memories are of ice floes on the black waters of Lankiveil, fitting together like the blocks inside his puzzle box. The wailing of sea creatures underneath the waves. Enormous weapons mounted on ships leaving harbour. The deep bell chimes that floated on the air, colouring it golden, splitting time in measured pieces like a great grandfather clock, from the temple of Ohashi.

He remembers playing in the sea foam. Duelling his playmates with driftwood they picked up in abandoned ships. Filling the nests of rock turtles with the pearls that rolled up on the shore. There were so many that they spilt between his fingers.

He remembers gathering stiff crystalline flowers which grew on the rock their castle sat on, but not what they were called...

And he remembers making his mother a necklace of blue spiral shells, with the help of her handmaids. He wonders now and then what became of it, and then he stops himself.

Childhood memories are too tainted with what came afterwards. With what cut it in two halves.

With the grim understanding, in hindsight, of what his uncle’s touches meant during his first days on Giedi Prime. Skinny little Feyd. Did your father never feed you? How pretty you are, just as he was as a boy. Did you fall and hurt yourself here? No? Are you sure? I can feel a little dent where one shouldn’t be, yes, yes, right between your bones.

They seemed like comforting caresses at the time.

It was always surface touches on the thin and tender canvas of his skin, dry kisses, fondlings with an almost anatomical curiosity to them, and always with rough laughter resounding in the halls.

Many years passed before he realised, through hints gathered here and there, that his uncle was diseased. Longer still to find out that it was a Bene Gesserit who did it. Sexually transmitted, requiring constant treatment, and the cause of his enormous bloat.

Many pieces fell into place in the puzzle box at the back of his mind then. Why his uncle never showed to him the same sort of close attention he showed to the slave boys. Why it was always those large fingers heavy with rings that traversed his body, and traitorously gentle kisses, and long lingering glances once he let Feyd go.

How strange he felt, after being brought up to hate the Bene Gesserits and fear them, when he became conscious of a sort of gratitude he owed the witch for protecting him, beyond the grave, from the worst of his uncle’s attentions.

He remembers the first time he fell sick on Giedi Prime. It was during his first month there, when his body couldn’t take the toxic fumes and the industrial meat. His body revolted, flushing with an allergic reaction.

And he remembers his uncle’s visits, a few of them. How he slipped his fat hand between his thighs to feel them shivering, sweaty with fever, and laughed. The doctors around his bed laughed too, not daring to do anything else. Even at the age of 11, Feyd thought there was something wrong about it, but he had nobody to turn to, nobody to ask. How stupid he feels now.

And then there was a time, a broad swath of his adolescence, when he was planning quite seriously to kill the Baron.

He had devised a naïve scheme involving one of those awful oil baths and a stone lid, and he allowed himself to fantasize that if some day, for some reason, a Bene Gesserit would come, she could help him gain control of all the slaves through mind tricks, like the witches were rumoured to do. And he could escape with her, hidden in the soft folds of her dress while, in his imagination, the palace was boiling with fear and revolution upon the Baron’s death.

He grew out of these childish fantasies at around age 15. Nobody was coming to help him.

It was then that he started taking the arena more seriously. Killing slaves felt good. Feeling warm blood on his hands felt good. And it felt good to be so close to a human body while someone else suffered. It filled something in him he never knew needed filling.

His first taste of spice was around this time too. His uncle deemed him ready. It tasted like cinnamon, but never the same after that. And the dreams…

The dreams that came true scared him. Fate predetermined, fate out of his reach. His hands around a dozen throats could not make him feel in control after that.

But the other dreams, the ones that never came to be, those took him beyond fear, beyond anger, to a pit inside his soul. Demons swirled around him, teasing, tormenting him with the way his life could never be.

Dreams of impossible futures are the ones he hates the most. Dreams where he is wed to an Atrides bride, where his son sits on the Imperial Throne, where their enemies are humbled, and absolute power brings peace.

Feyd wakes up still on Giedi Prime, still under his uncle’s fat thumb, still with his concubines to pacify him while his true destiny is nowhere in sight. And when he does dream of a Bene Gesserit, she is not there to kill his uncle or to help him escape. She’s there to use him.

And sometimes, Feyd dreams of a little girl with a sweet and simple name, with her hair in dark ringlets, and sullen eyes like his. She runs through blue and silver halls, she plays in a field of flowers, she breathes the salty sea air of a distant planet and meditates upon the cliffs. He dreams of never meeting her, and wakes up wondering why that troubles him so much.