#the reverend responds

[reliquaryofflesh]

coffin/autopsy table/alter/basement actually decent mattress actually

We’d better try them all out, just to be safe ;)

[the-ninth-sin]

The warrior nun worms are consuming me I've canonized John's lore and made a Whole thing for the house/Dominicus system to exist within warrior nun's theological/dimensional universe. Anyway if anyone wants to hear about John, younger brother of Adriel, God made man and man made God, who has long since disappeared from our realm but existed once and will again, hmu

I pray the Tomb is shut forever. I pray the rock is never rolled away.

[hechiima]

Love stories where Watson is just going fully feral. I just watched the Lady Frances Carfax episode and the bank scene was so funny. Holmes takes his eyes off Watson for a second to talk to the manager and Watson's already downstairs tackling someone. Good for him.

[heavenlymorals]

Details that I've noticed about Arthur Morgan-

-He, for the most part, despises male touch, especially if it's overly affectionate. He gets tense anytime a man hugs him and wants it to be over as quick as possible (Jamie, Mickey) and he looks visibly offended when Professor Bell touches him. He even sometimes gets annoyed when Dutch touches him on his shoulder, someone who he considers a father figure.

-On the flip side, he does not mind female touch at all. He even initiates it sometimes (Tilly, the girl at Beaver Hollow). Now one could argue that they were high stress situations, but if Tilly was a dude, he would've just set her free, make a snide remark, give her a gun, and then he'd expect her to help him with the fighting. He is completely cool with the nun giving him a hug and doesn't get offended when Mary Beth touches his hand in their therapy session.

- He seems to be pretty well read. He knows Shakespeare, with Romeo and Juliet, and Icarus. He makes other literary references. This is probably due to Dutch. Dutch is clearly very well read and cultured. However, Arthur seems more interested in practical works like guides then philosophy and stories, given that the only book he has on his tent desk is a plant guide.

- He's great at remembering faces and less so on remembering names.

- He does have an amazing propensity to remember physical features, like how he is able to create amazing portraits of the people he meets without consistent reference. It's incredible and works back to the whole great at remembering faces thing. Same goes for animals.

- He is very curious. He is always touching things, looking at things, critiquing things, and trying to understand how they work.

- He generally refuses to be emotionally open with men and does it only with women- this could be due to the idea of the Cult of Domesticity. I've made a post about it before. Compare him speaking with the nun to Reverend Swanson. Compare him speaking to John about Dutch leaving him to him speaking to Sadie about Dutch leaving him.

- He is very connected or is fond of artistic people. He and Mary Beth talk about their journals. He is fond of Albert Mason's photography and helps him out. He is interested in Charles Chataney's artistic work, even if he doesn't like it or connect with it.

- Since a lot of camp members respond to Arthur's antagonizations with something like "not again" or "I knew I'd be next", it's safe to assume Arthur will go off on people from time to time, regardless if you play high or low honor.

- Does not have a fixed temperament. In some missions, he is more energetic and in others, he is more downtrodden. Very realistic and I fucking love it.

- Has direct eye content at all times- will look anyone in the eye and does not give a fuck. NPCs will look away from him if he stares at them.

- Gets mad when men don't behave like men, especially when it concerns women. He gets pissed at John for not stepping up and being a man to his family. He gets annoyed and even pissed off when asking why Beau couldn't have helped Penelope Braithwaite as she is his woman.

- Given how the camp falls to shit whenever Arthur isn't donating, we can safely conclude that Arthur is the most valuable member of that camp, bar maybe Hosea and Dutch.

- He is very reminiscent of the Dark Romantic, which is really interesting as a lot of times, it can be looked at as the middle ground between Romantacism and Realism, two ideologies that were very popular in the 19th century. I will make a full analysis regarding this later.

- Introverted, but not shy at all. In fact, he's very charismatic and is just as good as dealing with people as Dutch and Hosea (The Riverboat Mission) This 'dumb, mumbling' cowboy thing he's dumbed down to in the fandom is an insult to his character.

- He probably acted like a father figure to Jamie Gillis when he was still with Mary, given the fact that he taught him how to ride a horse. Will probably also make a full post about this later.

- Some people say that Arthur is around 5'10-11. Others say He's 6'0-3. Whatever his height actually is, he's still way taller than the average man during this time period, who was around 5'6. Now imagine that with muscles and armed to the teeth- fucking terrifying.

- Very sentimental. He keeps a photo of his supposedly no good Pa and wears his hat. He keeps a photo of his mother who he doesn't really remember at all. He keeps a photo of his dog, a horseshoe that probably belonged to a dead and beloved horse. He keeps a flower from his mother. Keeps a photo of Mary as well. If he had a photo of Isaac, he'd probably keep that too.

-Arthur died at 36 years old from Tuberculosis if you play high honor. The real gunslinger and outlaw Doc Holliday died at the same exact age and the same exact way.

- Genuinely doesn't give a fuck about movements, social issues, and cultural issues, but does care about individual people.

- I love him

- So fucking much

- 😃

[afewfantasies]

🗡️ꜰᴇʏᴅ'ꜱ ʙʟᴀᴅᴇ 🗡️ -V- Spellbound

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.7K

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Feyd-Rautha X Reader

ᴘʟᴏᴛ: The Baron and Bene Gesserits are sniffing around, you and Feyd grow closer in spite of the danger - until it comes to a head. You will get your full real taste of Harkonnen brutality.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: sex (p in v), breeding kink, invasion of privacy, mentions of bruising and soreness from sex (for the reader), NSFW

MASTERLIST

_________

Part V - Spellbound

The sprawling halls of the palace seem foreign to Feyd-Rautha for the first time as he traverses them. The darkness is in stark contrast to the colors sprinkled into your room. The muted halls now feel sterile in contrast to all the life and beauty you have brought to his life. He now had his na-baroness, you. The union had been consummated and he felt married to you in every way. Ceremony be damned. He’d woken up next to you, laying there peaceful, vulnerable and complete with the evidence of his markings all over. Feyd fought against his instinct to stay, instead he left you there untouched and peaceful. He had begun his day with his morning training sessions and a debrief on all Arrakis’ affairs. After his morning session he’d been intercepted by the Harkonnen Mentat on the Barons orders. Stretching his arms as he walks down the halls, people whisper and ogle him. Unlike before, Feyd is no longer interested in dipping in and out of the ladies within the palace, no longer interested in acquiring concubines and pets. There's no room for further distractions. Straightening to a regal posture Feyd enters the throne room seeing one of the Bene Gesserit Reverend mothers standing near the Baron. With a breath he removes all evidence of irritation from his expression, he places a pleasant smile onto his lips nodding at the witch before averting his gaze to his uncle.

“Baron” he says, holding the gargantuan man’s eyes. The Baron's thin lips flatten further into a smile. His labored breathing and suspension machine filled the uncomfortable silence. Feyd catches a nervous twitch from the Bene Gesserit sister.

“Feyd… there’s been some developments. According to the Reverend Mother three of her sisters have gone missing. A Lady Margot Fenring, a healer and sister Y/N” The Baron comments.

“Would you like my assistance in their retrieval efforts, is the emperor indisposed?” Feyd asks, playing dumb.

“No of course not, but I’d like to know if you came across any of them?” She says making Feyd genuinely smile. They were on to him but they had not effectively done their homework. In his search for you he’d learned how instrumental Leia had been to your adjustment. Four Bene Gesserits were missing now at his hands. Only two of them would continue to draw breath. The bitch that tried priming him for Lady Fenring’s seduction was dead along with her conspirator.

“Why would I?” He asks.

“Where are they?” the sister hisses using the voice, Feyd feels the reverberations in his head. Only, as it had been with Margot Fenring the compulsion is ineffective. Swallowing he shakes his head hyper aware of his uncle’s all seeing eyes. “My betrothed is in my company, I have not come across Lady Margot Fenring. The other, well unfortunately she got a little close after my fight in the arena” Feyd snarks, pretending to be frustrated by the manipulation. Looking up out of anger the Reverend mother senses no deception from him.

“You have been betrothed to Princess Irulan” the Reverend Mother responds, correcting him. Understanding the weight of their scrutiny he raises a brow. Too much affinity for you would expose his weakness making you a further target, he’d rather all attacks be aimed at him.

“Irulan” Feyd nods, looking at his uncle the Baron with a nod. He’d never been more bored by the prospect. Everyone knows the Emperor’s oldest daughter is an astute student of Reverend Mother Mohiam. He had no use for the schemes of weak men who’d rather use marriage rather than taking what their hearts desired.

“Are you satisfied?” The Baron asks the Bene Gesserit. Casting a look at Feyd she nods again leaving with a few guards. There had been a plot and now the hags were on the hunt for their rogue agent, only she would never be found and he would never be made a fool of. Feyd relaxes a touch turning to the devil he knows suspended on his throne. The Baron’s gaze is critically assessing his nephew, he too wanted to know what had become of Margot Fenring, but there would be no way for Feyd to resist the voice. How could the Baron know that the attempt on Feyd-Rautha’s life by the Atreides soldier had the opposite effect. Instead of making him more vulnerable to suggestion, he had become immune to their trickery. It strengthened the bonds between the two of you.

Feyd-Rautha’s love and admiration of you had only grown in the moments following the arena. The way you had clung to him, the fear in your every touch, the fortitude in your commitment to his well being. It was everything. You had shared your blood and body with him connecting the two of you on another level.

“How is your newest pet?” The Baron asks floating down from his throne at the very moment Rabban emerges through the doors. Turning slowly Feyd-Rautha’s eyes narrow in on his brute of a brother, hands itching to draw his knives. Rabban had been at the helm of the brutal attack on you and Leia and would pay for it.

“Good, now that both of my nephews are here. Rabban, Feyd-Rautha will be taking over on Arrakis” the Baron’s words cause a chain reaction. The Beast groans out of anger and rage, his breaths become shallow and he draws inward flexing his muscles as he makes a desperate attempt to withhold a tantrum.

“That is not necessary” Rabban snaps at the Baron. It’s all the disrespect Feyd can take. He strikes fast, slashing his brother across his face. Rabban tries and fails to get the better of his younger brother. Feyd out maneuvers the bigger man landing a kick that leaves Rabban on the floor blood dripping through out of his newest scar.

“Kiss or die” Feyd smirks knowing that this is just the beginning of his punishment. He would make sure he was dead once it was safe to do so without inquiry or repercussion. Looking down, Feyd watches his older brother inch closer and place his lips on his boot. Smiling Feyd-Rautha withdraws, casting a look back up at the Baron and striding out.

Feyd had risen early as was expected. Risen and left without the opportunity to wake you slowly, enjoying a morning with his na-Baroness. It angered him to have to put his inheritance ahead of you but it was the inheritance that would ensure his safety. Feyd spent hours assessing the land masses on the live map, his plan would need to be fool proof to release the spice. As soon as he could do that the more time he could have fucking you. He’d prepared a bath soak for you to ease the tension and aches from your body. Aches he’d put there, aches you welcomed as he went deeper inch by inch. Your safety was the only reason Feyd forced himself out of bed instead of allowing himself to be lost in you. He had made the mistake of dismissing your warning before and it had potentially cost him his mind, genetics. Potentially even you, there was no way to be sure what Lady Fenring could have achieved with his mind. Poisoning his mind against you or worse sanctioning your eradication. Feyd would do his best to give a semblance of normalcy because once on Arrakis and away from the Baron he could spend as much time as possible in throes of passion with you. He needs time to watch your back arch coming off the bed, your nipples pointing up at him ready to be sucked and played with. The way your breathing looks on your stomach as it contracts and swells at the sight of him thrusting inside of you. The bounce of your ass and tits as he increases his vigor. Your hands reaching to him for support, championing his insatiable desire for your pleasure. He’d never loved a body the way he does yours, he’d never felt so connected to a woman before. The chemistry between the two of you heightened to a point of senselessness, it had been pure instinct, autopilot. There’d been no blood left in his brain to process anything but the pure pleasure he felt and the feast for his eyes of you were laying there naked and sullied in front of him. The chorus of your moans of pleasure etched into his mind - his new favorite melody.

Last night had made it real. There was no denying it or passing it off as a simple preoccupation, he would never tire of you, he would do anything to keep you safe the same way you’d rushed to his aid. Rabban and the Baron would reach untimely deaths at his hand for their treachery. Irulan too if she would be foolish enough to insert herself into a relationship with him. The Empire be damned, he would find his way on the throne if it was what he wanted. He’d inherited Arrakis without schemes, he was simply the best for the job. Unlike the Emperor and the Baron Feyd had never been a coward, he always welcomed a good fight. He’d heard whispers about the sanctioned assassination of Duke Leto Atreides. He’d heard about the Emperor’s jealousy and the Baron’s grasp for power. Timing had been perfect, while all eyes were on Arrakis Feyd’s were on you and somehow now he would have both.

Sliding his hand in the reader Feyd enters into your quarters. The bath is drained and he finds you and Leia sharing a late lunch. Leia turns first nodding at him sheepishly before you turn to him with a smile. The feeling that washes over you is one you aren’t likely to forget. Relief, happiness, home, there’s a magnetism in your heart at the sight of Feyd. He comes over embracing you and you can smell his slightly musky scent.

“I’m going to freshen up” Leia stands not wanting to interrupt.

“Take one of the rooms in here, stay with the na-baroness” Feyd instructs getting your attention. Leia makes herself scarce and Feyd-Rautha sits on one of the chairs. Cautious of your soreness you sit on his knee, his arms hold you instinctively and you relax into him. You’d missed him dearly this morning, he had said goodbye but you wanted to wake up still tangled in his arms, body to body, feeling his heat, his strength, his vitality, his insatiable appetite for you and his reverent gaze. Everyone had been wrong about Feyd-Rautha, fear wasn’t the first thing you felt when you laid eyes on him. It was the opposite. The way he looks at you makes you feel special, powerful, dangerous, sexy, unstoppable, untouchable. There’d been no shame in the way he made love to you.

Feyd’s hand roams up the length of your leg under the silky fabric of your robes, you can see the need in his eyes. Breathing in your eyes flutter as his lips take yours in a kiss. He’d longed to have you in his arms for so long it hardly felt real to him. Somehow the real you was better than he could have ever imagined. Better in so many ways. How could another woman ever make such a major miscalculation. How could Margot Fenring or anyone else think they could sway his attention. Letting his head rest in the curve of your neck Feyd breathes you in. Resting your head against his, your hand hovers over his face wanting to touch him. Something makes you hesitate, his hands and chest seemed like fair play but his face… There’s something about his energy and dominance that makes you hesitate. Seeing your contemplation Feyd looks up, kissing your palm with a knowingness, his dark eyes daring you to continue. Reaching for him you withdraw a touch making his smirk deepen. His eyes sparkle and you reach for his face again touching him, you run your thumb along his cheek. Feyd kisses the inside of your wrist in a permissive gesture. His skin is soft and smooth, unlike the hard ridged edges of him.

“I only need you to follow my direction down to the detail when we’re making love, or there’s an emergency. Otherwise you are free to do as you please” Feyd explains.

“And if I make a mistake?” You ask, remembering the sting of his spanking last night.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again” he smiles, it thrills you a little.

“How?” You ask curiously and Feyd’s smile deepens, his eyes sparkle brighter at the prospect.

“Well if I tell you, it’ll kill the surprise” he comments suddenly in a much better mood. You withdraw a little but he secures you in place amused slightly. “How did I make you feel last night?” Feyd-Rautha asks with his lips to your ear. The tickle of his words make the tiny hairs on your neck stand.

“Incredible” you respond honestly.

“And I always will, even if you make a mistake” he promises. You relax into him again enjoying the closeness and ease you feel with the na-Baron. “Did your bath soothe the aches?” He asks.

“Yes, but I’m still sore,” you confess.

“Where?” Feyd asks giving you his hand, you place them on your hips where he’d held you, sliding them down to your thighs where he’d tested your flexibility to its limits trying to make adequate space for himself. Unsure again you place his hand over your center. Feyd’s eyes close at the contact of your hands drawing his between your legs. Deep appreciation for your trust of him and deep regret in the reality that he cannot be inside you again tonight. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead enjoying your warmth as he lets his hand rest comfortably over you.

“It’ll take time” Feyd says regretfully, it had never been a consequence before. His rotation of concubines left him sated, if one was indisposed he could call on another.

“Will you leave me for your pleasure slaves tonight?” You ask, unsure of how things work. You hope he won’t, it’s all in your eyes, against your training and better judgment you can’t withhold the sentiments of hurt his abandonment will cause.

“No, I will be at your side tonight if you will have me” Feyd whispers, holding your gaze. “I will have you” you nod blushing slightly. A contraption beeps and he takes it, ending the noise with a smile.

“I have to leave you now but I must inform you that Margot Fenring attempted to seduce me last night, she paid with her life. Her body will not be found, your sisters are looking for her and they continue to try to seduce me with the Empire through Irulan” he whispers, his hand still nestled against your heat.

“What say you?” You ask.

“They’re desperate and I do not jump to please the desperate, they aim to please me” Feyd reckons with a smug smile. “We’re to leave for Arrakis within the week.” He adds getting your attention. You turn to him with an unease, reminded of your vision.

“Arrakis is at war with a Fremen prophet” you tell him having heard the whispers.

“I will bring the Fremen to their knees and then you may decide if you’d like Irulan as a pet. You will sit beside me on my throne and we will make the rules from a position of strength.” Feyd whispers into your ear. After years of powerlessness it’s an attractive proposition. Frowning a curious thought comes over you.

“How were you able to best Lady Fenring?” You ask.

“The late lady tried using the voice, unfortunately my na-baroness ensured I cannot be manipulated hours prior” he says just as another string of beeps follow. He silences them standing and placing you on steady feet in front of him. You turn searching his eyes only to see its the truth, smiling you laugh a little, he does the same. He secures his blades before turning his attention to you.

“You’re the sharpest one,” he mutters, peering into your eyes. It’s high praise considering how much he reveres his weapons of choice. “The most beautiful, the most dangerous and the most rare” he adds looking down at you. Pride fills you, it's been so long since anyone valued you as he did.

“I’m thankful our fathers had the foresight to ensure we would have each other” you confess and Feyd-Rautha stands upright, straightening as pride fills him from your words.

“The sweetest too, so sweet you don’t even feel the sting” he says holding you gaze with mutual admiration and gratitude. Taking your hands he brings them to his lips placing a kiss on them. He turns leaving you awash with a variety of emotions. Your feelings for him are growing increasingly as the days pass. You place your hand against your stomach wondering if there’s a quickening in your womb. If the feelings would manifest by multiplying.

…

You had long wondered how losing your father had affected your mother, why she had never come back for you if she had survived. Hands running along Feyd-Rautha’s muscular back, you sense the deep loneliness that must exist within her as he sleeps on top of you, his heavy body anchoring you to this world. The warmth of him heating your own body. Looking down at Feyd you smile to yourself, the dream of him is disguised in the nightmare of his reputation. There was more depth to the man aside from brutality and cruelty. The same attentiveness that made him a dangerous adversary made him an excellent lover. As did the knowledge of the human body he’d long used for means of torture. Turned on its head it made for a lover that excels at the delivery of pleasure. The same for pain, after years of brutality he knew better than anyone how hard to push, how long to go, when to stop and when to be unrelenting. Here and now, he was completely relaxed over top of you, his slow breathing and soft breaths like that of a small child but far more peaceful. While asleep he didn’t look dangerous, he seemed to just be a man, like all the rest. He stirs turning his head, his arms tightening around you in a gesture of possession. When behind closed doors Feyd-Rautha was incapable of resisting the need for touching you. He needed you as close as possible, a piece of you touching him in some way. When there were no other eyes on you he wasted no time assuring you how much you meant to him.

He’d spent the last few days pouring over maps of Arrakis for hours while Rabban tried and failed to bring order to the desert planet. Feyd’s plans remained close to the chest so that his brother's spies would have no opportunities to undermine his objectives. He also had the foresight to keep you tucked away in your quarters. There were no margins for error, no room for distractions - he would need to ensure the flow of spice to gain enough power to make demands and have them met. He wouldn’t allow himself to be used as a pawn in the power games the Emperor played, he wouldn’t not allow himself to be in a subservient position like the Baron, to a man lesser than him in every way. He would never allow himself to be in the position where he needed to sell off his daughters and sons to improve his station. The games of advantage displeased him even more now that he’d been privy to the realities of a love match. He also knows you would never welcome it, trading the children you bore out of love for advantageous positions. Stirring to consciousness he flattens his hands down over your stomach. He’d emptied his desire in you on three occasions now and there was a strong likelihood of an offspring quickening within you. Feeling your gentle caresses he places a kiss on your sternum lifting his head from between your breasts and inching up to the pillow. He pulls the blanket over your bare form to keep you warm in the absence of his body heat. His eyes drink you in with an insatiability, he never seemed to tire of your flesh. You smile at him as he readjusts getting between your legs.

“Feyd” you whisper in anticipation. “You have training, you're already late” you remind him sensibly.

“I can be quick” he whispers, needing you to start his day. “Cum for me” he whispers sliding in. Your eyes close as you accept him inside of you, he fits so well. “Look at me” Feyd demands and you do. “Make a mess for me” he instructs finding a torturous rhythm, he’s right it will be quick. He turns you on like a light, everything about him driving you there in no time, the slapping of skin to skin becomes wetter and wetter as your body accommodates his size, pleasure oozing out of you. “That’s my good na-baroness” he hisses, thrusting harder. The monster is inside of you and you love it. The nightmare capable of slaying all others. Your body welcomes him, drawing him closer as the head rush of your orgasm starts. Your eyes lock and he wears a smile, his chin moves in an encouraging nod allowing you to let go of all inhibition and decorum. “Let it out” he smiles as sweat beads on your forehead.

“Feyd '' you moan as he slows, breaking the rhythm. A powerful thrust follows, and another and another. Your hands squeeze around his arms needing to be grounded. His mouth lingers open above yours whispering dirty pleasantries, the sweetest filth promising your undoing. His smile is mocking as he edges you to oblivion. He needed his balls empty before starting his day if there was any hope in him being effective in his tasks. The more he has you the more he needs. You’re in his every thought, in his every desire, in every decision and breath. Feyd’s sure it's Bene Gesserit witchcraft but wrapped so tightly around his cock he welcomes it in all forms. Watching you come for him he knows the ecstasy is pure. Burying himself deep he lets his orgasm flow into you. Only one Bene Gesserit would bear his children. Any others who’d seek to insert themselves between you and him would be collared, leashed and be made your pets, surviving purely off of your generosity. He would teach you how to take care of traitors. He would teach you everything.

“Feyd” you call again shuddering as more aftershocks rip through the both of you. You live for the moments you’re both satisfied and connected, body to body, flesh to flesh. His head bows and you raise yours to meet his full beautiful lips.

“I love you” he says slipping out of you. He moves from between your legs pressing your knees together, wanting you to keep as much of him inside you as possible. Smiling, you rest your head on his chest as he lays on his back. You rest, catching your breath and slowing your breathing.

“I love you too” you tell him back.

“We made a mess” he says with pride but the smirk fades to horror in moments he jumps out of the bed in a flash, his cock bouncing still hard. Your heart races as he throws the sheets over your bare body. The doors open and your heart stops at the sight of the Baron. Only his eyes are not on you but Feyds manhood as he puts pants on.

“What are you doing in here!” Feyd growls pulling the curtains of the canopy bed just as the Baron’s head turns to you. You pull the sheets to your chin, trembling.

“They said Feyd-Rautha missed his training session. I said no way, as long as he breathes he’d be with his blades'' the Baron said through labored speech. A sickeningly sweet and rancid odor fills the chambers. You find yourself trembling under the weight of such a terrible man's gaze. All of Feyd’s hard work to bring you pleasure is eroded by the rotting abomination of a man in this chamber with Feyd and yourself.

“Out uncle” Feyd snarls, terrifying even you.

“I wouldn’t mind laying eyes on the pet that’s keeping you preoccupied and away from the others every night” the Baron says and you pull the sheets over your face although the poster bed’s drapes already conceal you from the two men.

“Don’t” Feyd snaps, stopping his uncle from pulling the drapes. No one would ever lay eyes on you indisposed.

“I can ready Rabban and the staff, put on a show dear nephew. Show the rest of us how your whore has come to pleasure you, taking away valuable time from your tasks at hand” the Baron yells.

“Get out” Feyd responds trembling, looking at his uncle for the first time he wants to spill his blood everywhere. Every attempt at hiding his possessiveness and predilection for you is out of the window. Feyd fights for control trying not to expose further weakness.

“Show us Feyd, we want to see the work she does with your cock that is more important than your inheritance” Baron Vladimir Harkonnen taunts glancing at his nephew's groin area.

“No” Feyd responds, setting his jaw. Murder apparent. The Baron taps on his shield, well aware of the heightened state of his nephew. The doors open and guards enter. Without his shield or weapons Feyd is at a disadvantage. Murder will have to wait. Cornered, Feyd’s thoughts turn to you. “I missed the training because I've exceeded all instructors” he says attempting to subvert the truth. The Baron chuckles knowing the potential poison love could be to his progeny and the Barons own ambitions. He’d been getting more reports regarding his heirs preoccupation with his inadequate betrothed.

“Someone will have to pay for this deliberate disobedience. Will it be you or your whore?” The Baron chides seeking to provoke Feyd. His disrespect of you in public sealing fate, now Feyd would kill his uncle. It would happen.

“I will” Feyd rasps. Nodding the Baron smirks.

“Bring the whore to watch” the Baron says before turning away and eroding Feyd’s confidence. Every instinct in Feyd wants to beg, he wants to plead for absolution. He could take any punishment but subjecting you to brutality and violence … he … he couldn’t fathom its effects. He’d grown up with the barons' malevolence, his brutality and cruelty. But Feyd had watched you become undone by a minor cut on his back. The way you would care for it and caress it daily was evidence enough to know this would break you. You would be unable to witness the cruelty of punishment according to the Barons machinations. The mocking, the jeering, the humiliation, the whippings, the hours of fighting until he could no longer defend himself, the scars, the weeks of soreness. He took them in stride, becoming increasingly vicious every time. But that was before he had you to consider, before he’d known real love. The baron had tried everything in his arsenal to break the boy with no success. Smiling as he floats away he knows he has now, the look in your eye could only be explained as one thing.

Love

And love could, and would always be the easiest emotion to exploit. the most powerful impulse. Even if his nephew had a mind of his own and the wherewithal to rebel, after today he was sure you would keep Feyd away out of love. He would make you feel culpable for the brutality Feyd will face. Exploiting all the kindness and empathy housed in a loving woman. The spice will flow, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen will become emperor. The Baron is committed to ensuring you will be disposed of. He’ll use you to his advantage if need be, he’ll break you, he’ll have you beg Feyd to marry Irulan. His machinations will be fulfilled by any means necessary.

Authors Note: Sorry this one is a little shorter than the others. how do we feel about the Baron and his sick and twisted treatment of Feyd? How will you react to Feyd's punishment? How do we like the developing relationship between the two?

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[littlemspeachy]

Crazy To Love You

(Feyd x Reader)

Summary: You hated him. You hated his planet. You were the sun and the stars. Of warmth and gold. Yet, for some reason, you do find black appealing.

Note: While this is a reader insert, there are mentions of brown skin, but other than that, it's fairly neutral

Warnings: 18+ content near the end but nothing explicit, mentions of blood and use of the word whore.

Word Count: 2.35K

Part II

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Everyone said there was something complex about him. About the man you were about to marry. In her opinion, there was nothing complex about the man. He was easy to figure out and it didn't take a shrink to realize that. He was violent and cold. Obsessed with blood and the cries of a man he knew he was about to kill. 

He was nothing special and yet here you were getting ready to get sent away.

"You are to marry him." Lady Jessica coolly responded while she watched your maids put the finishing jewelry into your hair and bodice. 

You stared at her from the reflection of your vanity mirror. 

"You don't get better than this. You're a daughter of your fathers' whore-" She started angrily. 

"Get out of my head. The least you could do is that." You snapped before the Reverend Mother walked through the door. 

"I don't understand how you managed to raise such a disobedient child," The older woman dragged. 

"And child I don't understand how you could be so stupid." She said smacking you on the back of your head. 

You sighed and stared at yourself in the mirror before applying lining your lips with a soft brown and filling the rest of the empty space with a dark red. And no, you weren't stupid to not know what was going on. Lady Jessica messed up and bore a son and so in the eyes of the Reverend Mother, you were the best choice. You were still of the Duke's blood and by marrying the na-baron and producing an heir you would bring the houses together and create a perfect union. You knew this, you knew this ever since you came of age. You knew it more and more in every etiquette lesson. 

Raised like cattle for slaughter. Or not slaughter but more so for breeding. 

 A knock on your chambers broke you from your thought process, you looked to your door to see your brother peek into the room. 

"He's here." 

You sent the young man a small smile before standing and heading out with Lady Jessica and the Reverend. 

Your ladies-in-waiting walked silently behind you with your luggage in hand. They too knew of the rumors of the man you were bound to marry. The grotesque nature of his uncle and family. 

The warmth of the sun warmed your skin, but it didn't seem to reach past it. You had known these halls all your life. Stared at the paintings and art that decorated the walls. You'll miss the yellow of the sun that allowed your brown to become even richer in the warmer months. 

When you were younger your nursed like to joke that if there were goddesses you had to have been the child of the sun. Unfortunately, today proved that no such being existed because why would she curse her child to a polluted waste land with a sun as black as night. 

They arrived at large doors to the negotiation room. Guards of both families lining the walls. You followed the two older women into the room while your ladies-in-waiting stayed outside. 

 You sat next to Paul and across from your husband to be. 

Feyd was... Not stunned no. Not amused either. He had heard about you as a child and adolescent and even met you at some point in those years. Yet here he was, intrigued. You looked almost entirely out of place and in place at the same time. He could tell you were strong willed, but then again, any man in the room could tell that. 

You sat with your back straight and head high. Your eye's moved to each person as they spoke. 

As much as he would never admit it. You were beautiful. Not seductive, not sensual. You were beautiful. You're skin complimentary to the gold in your hair and the gold threads in your bodice. Your skin shined in the lazy afternoon sun. Your lips plump and decorated in red. You were stunning. 

"Then it is settled. You two will be wed by the next full moon," Feyds uncle rasped, a greedy smile upon his lips while he stared at you intently. 

"Come it is getting late and we must make our way back. Have her maids put her items on our ship. There's to be a solar disturbance. And I don't want to be here longer than I need to, this heat is starting to annoy me." 

You swallowed intensely. "No." 

All eyes snapped to you. Feyd tilted his head slightly to the side in curiosity. 'A fighter' he mused. This should be interested. 

"I have never been Giedi Prime, and since I am to be married in a week, I would like my family to join me, a proper wedding, and an introduction to your culture and customs. There is more than enough time to organize my request." You stared at the two leading men at the table. Inside you were shaking and fearing the worse. While you still had enough status to marry into a High Family, it didn't take away the fact that you were born out of wedlock. But fortunately, your voice stayed strong and didn't betray your nerves. 

Lady Jessica started to open her mouth to reprimand her but was cut off by laughter. Well, it was more of a bark but humor present, nonetheless. 

"I agree to your terms, child." Feyd's uncle said staring at you.

"I do not understand." Lady Jessica muttered staring at you in horror. 

"This will either be the greatest match in all the high families. Or the worst thing to come from your House." 

You bite the inside of your cheek, jaw flaring. The handshakes and contracts were signed. 

You walked silently and quickly to the informal meeting place of your home. Maids scrambling to get other items for your family and to leave promptly. Lady Jessica hot on your tail and delivered a quick slap to your face when you turned around. 

"How dare you embarrass us like this." 

"Not to intrude on family... matters... But as she is my bride, I'd prefer if you don't leave marks on her. That should be my job soon enough." A voice said boredly. 

She whipped her head to look behind her and stared at the pale man behind her. Before gritting her teeth, giving a small curtsy and walking out quickly. 

"It's impolite for us to be together without a chaperone." You stated. Eyes following his every move. You didn't trust him. How could you? He was a bloody murder, that craved blood and bones. You would consider him uncivilized if it wasn't for the fact that he came from a royal bloodline. 

"Hmm, you see something you like?" 

You squeezed your dress in your hand to stop you from being annoyed and rolling your eyes.

"You know I heard you were sweet. Demure. But you seem to like a fight." 

"A fight that was not, my lord. Just a request. I am to be whisked away to a place where I am nobody and have no rights outside of you. So yes, requesting my family and have a civil wedding, is the most basic request." 

He gave you a smirk. Him slowly getting close to you, almost like a snake. "You sure are mouthy, I hope it's the same on our wedding night." He whispered, closely to your ear. 

His hot breath sending a chill up your spine. You watched him walk past you to the window. He was incredibly pale and hairless. No blemish or scar in sight. Was that genetics or cosmetic you would never know. How dark was it on his planet to make someone so pale? Paul was pale, but his skin warmed and tanned during the warmer months.

You glowed in the sun; you understood the sun. The sun gave light, it gave colors. A black sun... Would strip things of light. Nothing exists in a sun like that. 

The reality of your situation started to bare its weight on your shoulders. You knew why they needed the marriage to work, you knew why you needed to produce an heir. It would create an alliance forged in blood, it would tie your two kingdoms together and prevented them from going to war. It would protect your kingdoms economy and exports. But why a place so cold in dark. How were you to live? To raise a child or children. How were you going to raise your children. With dreams and fantasies of a kingdom they'll never know. Shall they become their father? Murderous and craving madness and death? 

You let in a deep breath, to help settle you. You were to be married and have a child. That's it. You were raised to do so and do it you will. Nothing more, nothing less. 

"We are ready for departure your majesties." A voice rang through the room.

You nodded at the man before taking a look back at Feyd and realizing that he's been staring at you the whole time. 

The next few days were spent learning about their "castle", which in your opinion was a bland fortress meant to keep people out and in.  The days were spent watching bloody sparring matches in preparation for his big fight and preparing for the wedding. 

Skin was cleaned and body was scrubbed clean. Herbs and foods to increase fertility feed three times a day. Lessons on how to "please a man" in way too much detail. Nothing like what you expected your wedding day to look like. When you were younger you imagined white dresses and days of getting to know your soon to be husband by the waves. Intimate and flushed glances at each other over dinner. Excitement and butterflies. And all there was to greet you was darkness. Black suns and pale heads greeted you at every corner. You prayed your child you look more like you. Or at least a mix. 

 You woke up to the sound of your sun alarm. You're glad you brought it with you. It imitated actual sun light and reminded you of home and warmth. You cuddled back into the pillows when you realized your maids weren't there. Breakfast and a long intensive bath could wait. You hardly did anything and yet had intensive baths every morning and night. After five days you were surprised, you had any skin left. 

Feyd watched you silently doze off again, perched away in a corned you have not seem to realize. He chuckled lightly at the last time you fully conversed. 'Not polite.' What he was going to do in one days' time wouldn't be very polite to her parents either. 

He watched you as you walked softly to the vanity you had set up in your room. It was simply a desk and a small mirror, but it worked for what it was. For what you had access too. 

You hummed lightly to yourself as you took your scarf off your head and took out the rollers. The maids given to you had no idea what they were doing when it came to your hair. It was the last thing that you had for yourself... Only yourself. 

Feyd walked over silently, almost leaning down to your ear whipping backwards and grabbing your wrist. 

No words were said, outside of the sound of heavy breathing. 

The two of you stared intensely at each other before the man's eyes wondered over to the knife in your hand. Sharp and ready to sink into the next victim. 

He raised what you assumed would've been a brow if he wasn't hairless. 

"Did you intend to kill me." 

"It didn't matter if it was you. The knife was intended for whomever decided to get that close to me without out announcing themselves." You spat. 

He smirked at you, "So you do know how to take care of yourself."

"My father didn't raise a stupid damsel."

"Very clearly he didn't." 

You two stared at each other before he went and bite your collarbone. A guttural groan coming from his throat as he smelt your rose body oils from the night before. 

You gasped, shocked, your hand dropping the knife and your body arching towards his. A surprising mix of sharp pain and pleasure dancing through your body to your fingertips. 

"I thought you hated me?" He whispered grabbing your chin and forcing you to keep eye contact. 

Truth be told as much as you hated his home, his planet, the whole preparation of practically being wedded purely for alliance reasons. You got used to the idea of being his. 

He was smart and quick on his feet. Intelligent and willing to amuse your intellectual ideas. He let you fight him and berate him when you were alone. He guarded you and defended you. And he was taken with you the moment he met you. Many women were raised to be obedient, silent, and just take what was given to them. If he was going to become the Baron one day he'd need a woman that was going to raise his children to be strong. Your union was perfect, anything that he lacked you had. 

"I hate you invading my space. If you wanted to come you could've asked or at least told me." You stated. A terrible and needy heat starting to fill your body. 

He smirked at you before crashing your lips together. Teeth and tongue clashing in a battle of dominance. His hands threading through your hair and yours finally getting the relief of feeling his body. 

You broke away to breath, head being lifted by the upwards pull of your hair. 

"I would love to continue this but, this is impolite, remember." He said breathlessly, backing up slowly. 

You stared back at him. Becoming painfully aware of the want in your core and the electricity running through your body needing release. 

"Fuck you." 

Feyd laughed at your temper tantrum before leaving your room and leaving you to deal with the mess he started. 

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Wait

Feyd Rautha x Y/N - drabble part 2 - 1.4K WC

Part 1

Part 2 (you are here!)

Part 3 NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Warnings: murder, attempted murder, using the voice, Feyd being soft, y/n is bad ass, idk man I wrote this kinda stoned so forgive whatever mistakes there are btw there is gonna be a steamy part 3 soon!!

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You awoke to Feyd sitting up abruptly. You saw his eyes narrow in on the door. He pushed himself out of the bed, you pulled the blanket up around yourself. 

“Take your dress off.” Feyd said.

“What?” you said in shock.

“Trust me.” he said.

You slipped the shoulders of your dress off, keeping yourself covered with the blanket. Feyd acted like he was putting his pants back on when the door slid open. The Baron himself entered your shared apartments. 

“Nephew! I trust you had an agreeable night with your bride?” he said with a disgusting smile. 

Feyd nodded, face stone cold. The Baron moved towards you and you shrunk back from his imposing figure. Feyd was by your side in an instant, standing between you and the Baron. 

“Already soft for them? Don’t be weak Feyd.” he said, mocking him for having an attachment to you. 

The Baron shoved him aside, yanking you from the bed. You stumbled, trying to stay upright but also trying to keep yourself covered. Feyd caught you, holding you up before pushing you behind him. He noticed the slight shake in your body and fear in your eyes. His uncle was formidable but to you, he was terrifying. 

The Baron gazed down at the blood on the sheets, a content smile on his face as he turned to Feyd. “Well done dear nephew, a Harkonnen heir will be well on its way if you are this persistent.” he said as his eyes raked over the little he could see of your form. 

“Uncle.” Feyd responded flatly, bowing his head slightly as his uncle left your apartments. 

Feyd immediately turned around to face you. You held the sheets closer to you, shaking uncontrollably. Feyds hands went to hold you but he stopped himself. Your eyes met his before you leaned into him, resting against his chest. His movements stuttered for a moment. He had never felt somebody so relaxed against him. Quite the opposite actually, everyone was always tense around him. His arms encircled you, holding you tightly. He rested his head against you, allowing his eyes to flutter closed. You started to sway with him unconsciously, finding peace with one another in the moment. Feyd felt you lean back slightly, your hand coming to hold his cheek, he kept his eyes closed as he leaned into your touch. 

“Not what I expected.” you said, barely audible. Your eyes roamed his face, taking in his sharp features. 

He opened his eyes, finding yours. “What?” he whispered in response, his hand coming up to hold yours against him. 

“You aren’t what I expected.” you stated a little louder.

“What did you expect?” he asked. He already knew the answer. A killer. A psychotic, power hungry Harkonnen - like his uncle. 

“I expected you to be what they made you.” you said, thumb running over his cheek softly.

Made him. They had made him the way he was. But there was still a sliver of himself. His true self which longed for connection, kindness, love. Perhaps you could nurture this bit of him, as you already have. You are the only one who has made him feel warm inside, a warmth he wanted to revel in. 

“I think you’re right. We can find things to love in one another.” he took your hand from his cheek, kissing your palm. 

You gave him a toothy smile before standing on your toes to connect your lips in a sweet kiss momentarily. Feyd’s lips chased yours when you parted, kissing you one more time before separating for good. Feyd reached over to the bed, handing you your discarded dress. You thanked him, standing behind the nearby privacy screen to put it back on, not that it left much to the imagination but it was better than being naked. 

“I was told to meet with the Reverend Mother today. To be given a proper tour of Geidi Prime and learn my new duties.” you told him as you watched him dress. 

He nodded, “I will be in meetings most of the day. Figuring out what to do with the rats of Arrakis.” he said, “I will see you tonight.” he said as he gave a soft smile. He kissed your knuckles before leaving. 

Hardly a moment passed before your maids arrived to dress you and take you to the Reverend Mother. 

------------------------------------------

You felt exhausted after your long day. The Reverend Mother was imposing and expected much from you to properly serve House Harkonnen. The Reverend Mother made it well known she did not prefer you, she preferred your sister. Your sister who had taken to the Bene Gesserit ways was a much more “suitable” match in her opinion. But you would suffice, she said. As soon as your intricate dress was taken off you dismissed your maids. You washed quickly before laying on your bed. You watched the black sun start to eclipse, it made you miss the warmth of the golden sun from your home planet. You heard the door slide open, before you could roll over you felt yourself being pulled to the edge of the bed. You saw three Harkonnen women, smiling with inky black teeth. One held your ankles down, another held your wrists down, and the third one with a thick black line down her forehead straddled you, covering your mouth with her hand. You kept still, afraid to make any movements. 

The one straddling you leaned in close to your face sniffing you a bit before writhing on top of you, “You smell so sweet, I wonder how you taste?” she said in an eerily vacant voice, as if she was without a soul to make her whole.

You pulled harshly, trying to free your hands or feet when you saw the shiny silver blade beneath the dress of the woman straddling you. You heard the door open, seeing Feyd walk inside. He froze, watching as the women gawked at him. The woman straddling you finally removed her hand from your mouth.

You spoke in an echoey, irresistibly powerful tone. You may not be Bene Gesserit but you mastered using the voice when you were still being considered between you or your sister. “STOP.”, everyone, including Feyd, stopped moving.

“RELEASE ME.” they did as you said, letting go of your hands and wrists.

“GIVE ME THE KNIFE.” the woman above you handed you the blade, her face full of shock as she tried to resist to no avail. 

“GET OFF ME. STAND WITH THE OTHERS.” you commanded them easily. You looked at the pale women grouped together. Typically, you would be merciful. But you were a Harkonnen now, you were almost assassinated by Harkonnen’s. These people were no strangers to killing, in fact, they were rather experts in it. 

You handed the knife to the woman with the black line on her head, “KILL YOUR SISTERS, THEN YOURSELF.” you commanded. 

You watched as the woman stabbed and slashed at her friends before opening her own stomach. All of them slumped against the floor, blood pooling around them. Your breathing was heavy, your body tense. You felt arms grab you from behind, completely forgetting Feyd was there.

“KNEEL.” you said, your voice was booming. You had killed before but never while using the voice. It felt… addicting. To have that kind of power over others. 

You turned, eyes meeting Feyd’s when you looked down. “Feyd!” you said as you pulled him up, arms wrapping around his neck before crying into the crook of his neck. The emotion of it all set in, the panic in your nerves. 

Feyd wrapped his arms around your waist, “This is all my fault.” he mumbled. 

You leaned back, “How?” you said, confusion covering your face. 

“They were my darlings… my concubines.” he said, shamefully looking down and away from your eyes. 

Your heart felt odd, it hurt but you also sought clarity. “Did you love them?” you asked, holding his cheek. 

“No, never.” he said immediately, trying to hold your hand but too nervous to fully grasp it. “I made them maids, I never thought they would seek you out.” you could hear the guilt in his voice.

You looked between Feyd and the three dead women before you. “Hush now, I’m alright. This isn’t your fault, their actions are their own.”

Feyd nodded, finally meeting your eyes. You saw tears sitting in his eyes, something you never thought you’d see. “They almost killed you.” he said, voice cracking slightly. 

“But they didn’t. I’m not as fragile as you think my love.” you smiled softly at him, trying to brighten the mood. 

The corner of his lips twitched up slightly, “I knew you were strong, now I know where your strength lies.” he said before pulling you into a kiss.

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Naboo's Note:

Hey! Loved writing this it was sooooo fun. Part three should be out sometime soon, might be over the weekend though. I would love some requests in regards to Feyd so send them my way! Love ya'll, thanks for the likes, comments, and reblogs. XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

[tremendum]

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Me and the Devil; iv

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 9.5k i think

summary:  "We've always known what the Harkonnens are. And yet, they sent me, happily, to marry the devil. To become one."

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood, incorrect lore probably, brief allusion to blood kink (blink and you miss it), reader has some mommy issues and also some daddy issues, reader is also a bit of a diva buttttt thats ok shes grieving, height difference mention (Paul is taller than reader).

notes: back with chapter four! Thanks so much again you guys for all of the feedback, it's so so appreciated. I'm happy you're liking it!! this is very unedited. lmk what you think :)

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My Dear Niece,

I hope this message finds you in good health and spirits, despite the trying times you have endured. It has been far too long since we last spoke, and I have often found myself thinking of you and wondering how you are faring - but I am hopeful that Caladan will be more forgiving with message deliveries.

First and foremost, allow me to offer my condolences. I cannot begin to imagine the pain and sorrow you must have experienced in the wake of the tragedy that befell your family at the hands of those beasts. To have been thrust into the midst of such turmoil and danger, surrounded by those who brought about such devastation, must have been unimaginably difficult.

I write to you also with a sincere and heartfelt congratulations on your recent betrothal to Paul Atreides. While I understand that this union may have come as a surprise, I have every confidence that you will make a splendid bride and wife. Duke Leto is a noble and honorable man, and I have no doubt that his son is the very same. I know that he will cherish and protect you with all his heart.

Please know that you are not alone in your sorrow, my dear niece. Though distance may separate us, if ever you feel the need for comfort or companionship, know that our home is always open to you. You are welcome to visit whenever you please, and I would be honored to meet your new husband and welcome him into our family.

In the meantime, I hope this message finds you well and brings some small measure of comfort to your troubled heart. You are a strong and resilient woman, my dear, and I have every confidence that you will emerge from this darkness stronger than ever before.

With all my love and affection,

Lady Ginaz

- Message sent to Lady Bourbon from the Lady Ginaz. 10191. Caladan.

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For the second time in his life, Paul is roused by his mother in the dead of the night.

When she insists he follow her, she wears a similarly grave face to the first time - spooked, uneasy. He was not given the grace to even find shoes this time before she grasped his bicep, pulling him along to her own quarters and through a hallway lit only by the full moon outside; Too tired to protest and still yawning at the curling tendrils of slumber, he drags his bare feet along the stone floor. Still blinking sleep from his eyes, a sense of dread fills him when he crosses into the dimly lit chamber at the end of the hall; an ornate chair placed in the center, and on sitting atop it is the imposing figure of the Reverend Mother.

Paul's heart clenches; his eyes are alert immediately.

Their previous encounter; searing pain, the Gom Jabbar - a test of his humanity. He struggles to conceal the rage that simmers beneath the surface, a bitter reminder of what he'd endured - and for no reason.

He should never have told his mother about the dreams.

Already knowing, but needing the affirmation, he clenches his jaw. "What's this?" He turns to ask his mother, whose stare is icy and less fearful than it was those years before. She doesn't respond, only nudges him forward, towards the woman in the center of the room.

As the Reverend Mother's piercing gaze meets his own, Paul squares his shoulders, steeling himself for what is to come; He'll have to tread carefully, lest he betray the depth of his emotions - or the truth about his dreams.

The Reverend Mother speaks, her voice a low, commanding tone that fills the room. "Tell me of your dreams, Paul Atreides," her eyes bore into his own. Paul hesitates for a moment, glaring to his mother- Lady Jessica nods subtly, her expression urging him to speak the truth; Anger courses through him, but he knows there is no choice for him now.

Summoning his courage, Paul begins to recount the vivid images that have haunted his nights.

Leaving out the details he suspects are less...important, he instead focuses on the more foreboding parts; The eerie familiarity of the clearing, the ceremonial sheet spread like a shroud. Ash falling from the sky, the missile streaks in the sky and the burning of the large pine; a shiver runs down his spine - the visions feel like a portent of doom, and it brings him to a hushed quiet.

"I've tried to make sense of them," His voice comes out just as frustrated as he feels, "But they're elusive. Fragmented. She's always there."

It seems he doesn't have to elaborate on who he's talking about - the woman's eyes flash before him from under her thick veil. She says nothing, but a sharp glance from his mother makes him clear his throat, confessing the dream his mother had woke him from not minutes ago.

"And in the last dream," Paul's jaw tightens, the memory of the vision burning bright in his mind, "I saw someone... stabbing me," he confesses, his voice barely above a whisper. "A black-hilted knife, with an engraved blade."

The words hang heavy in the air, sending a ripple of unease through the chamber. Paul can feel the weight of the Reverend Mother's scrutiny, her eyes boring into his soul as if searching for the truth buried within. He's not sure if his mother is making the connection; you've brought that knife with you nearly everywhere since you got it back. To him, it's inevitable.

The Reverend Mother's expression is unreadable as she absorbs his words. Paul braces himself for her response, knowing that what he's revealed may have far-reaching consequences; He cannot afford to hide the visions that plague his mind—not if what you said about Sabberon is true. The Reverend Mother regards him with a penetrating stare. "Interesting," she murmurs. "Your dreams hold great significance, Paul Atreides."

Paul's frustration boils to the surface as he listens to the Reverend Mother's cryptic response; He knows what she is capable of, he knows how powerful the Bene Gesserit are in the galaxy - yet his resentment grows and boils within him. Resisting a snarl, he glares sharply, trying to quell the anger, confusion.

"Significance?" Paul retorts, his voice laced with bitterness. "I will not be a pawn in your schemes," he declares, his voice ringing with conviction. "I am the heir to House Atreides. I will not allow my fate to be dictated by prophecy or visions."

His words echo in the chamber; Lady Jessica places a sharp hand on his shoulder, her sharp inhale bristling the hair on Paul's neck.

"Silence."

Whatever words of anger he was about to say halt on his tongue. Prickles of anger wash over him when he comes out of the quick haze; she dares use the Voice on him, yet again.

Her voice is harsh when it comes, eyes sharp as tiny beads behind the black of her dressing. "You are the heir to a great legacy, but with that inheritance comes duty. Tread carefully, Paul Atreides. The choices you make will shape the fate of many." These words are extremely discomforting; Once again he is filled with the spoilt disdain of their fanatic manipulations.

The Reverend Mother continues, her gaze steady and unwavering. "You possess a strength within you, a strength born of both blood and spirit; but true strength lies not in the wielding of power, but in the mastery of oneself. Trust in your instincts, but do not let them blind you."

He refuses to speak.

His mother is fearful behind him; he can feel it radiating off of her, and it fills him with even more indignation. His eyes pierce through her veil, waiting for her to finish. "You may go." She dismisses, and he has no problem turning heel, walking briskly to the door.

"Not you, Jessica."

Jaw clenching at the tone of disrespect the woman uses towards his mother, he almost turns around; but somewhere in his mind is a hazy insistence from his mother- urging him to leave them. He does, lingering to listen to the hushed whispers behind the closed door for only a moment.

"-with the girl, too.You must ensure they go down the right path."

He doesn't bother to stay and hear the rest of it.

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The clashing of blades chimes in your ears with surprise when you arrive for training in the late morning.

It's more common than not to find Duncan sitting, cleaning blades or stretching when you arrive for lessons, but today, it seems he and Paul are thoroughly engrossed in sparring and don't notice when you enter.

They move with that dance-like rhythm you grew up learning; one then the other - legs lunging, arms parrying and striking. They circle each other with cautious precision; Paul's movements are fluid and graceful, calculated - his proficiency comes as somewhat of a shock to you. With such a lithe, deft body, you'd assumed him little match for someone like Duncan. Perhaps, in your own vain perception, you'd expected him to have been meagerly gifted in the art of fighting, having been so well-endowed in the areas of strategy, politics, governance. Of course, you sigh. He's grown up here on Caladan - a Duke's son, trained to become a fair and mighty ruler one day. You suppose you shouldn't be so surprised, he's trained for it all his whole life.

You're sourly impressed as Paul matches him blow for blow, cheeks dusted with pink, barely a glean of sweat across his furrowed brow. A strike against Duncan hits unblocked; The older man, in turn, lets out a huff of laughter - pride flickers in his eyes as he watches Paul strike again.

It turns your blood to acid as you lean against the doorframe; waiting is becoming quite a drag. Duncan, watching Paul as if he were his own son; anger bites at your heels, pushing down the resentment you harbor. He couldn't have done anything when you were sent to Giedi Prime; rationally, you understand that, but the bitterness lingers, a reminder of the betrayal you felt at being abandoned to your fate years ago. There was a time years ago where you would spar with him like this in the weapons arena on Sabberon during the Harvest season- leaves falling red and yellow from their branches, the smell of roast and cider rising into the air.

Duncan's blade presses to Paul's side in a sudden move. Grunting, Paul can't seem to parry, and the blade is moments away from penetrating the shield and breaking through; God forbid he hurts that precious porcelain skin, You think. Briefly, as you watch the shield flicker red, you wonder how dark Paul's blood would flow. Feyd-Rautha's blood was so dark it was nearly black - a crimson color when it smeared across his skin; a tangy, sharp metallic taste when he'd pressed his bloodied fingers to your lips. You blink your eyes hard, pressing away the urge with a furrowed brow.

Your patience is gone, but luckily, Duncan seems to notice you first.

A spare glance in your direction as you linger in the entryway and he's fumbling - Paul takes the moment to strike, knocking Duncan to the ground with his blade pressed against his throat. Your brows raise.

With a wipe of sweat from his brow, Duncan's eyes skirt to the clock and he huffs, "Sorry, we must've lost track of the time." He mutters, taking Paul's extended hand. Paul nods at you in greeting; you nod back just as terse, ignoring the shocked look on Duncan's face at your appearance.

"It's fine. I believe I'm early." You reason, turning to walk towards the mat, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Duncan's stare on you; since you refused the veil from Hestia this morning, each person has looked at you the same - surprise, intrigue. You have to resist a snarl.

Paul, whose eyes flick to you then towards the weapons table, seems to be the only person this morning who hasn't stared at you as if you'd grown another head - but you're not fooled by his capacity to regard you simply as yourself this morning. Yesterday, he promised to never disrespect you; you suppose in turn, you will never disrespect him. That much will be given. But respecting someone is not the same as enjoying someone's company, and a moment of camaraderie is just a moment of weakness; You know he doesn't want this as much as you don't, but you will have to use this marriage as leverage if you ever want to make sure the Harkonnens stay off of Sabberon. And that means building trust.

Paul looks at you from the corner of his eyes for a moment before beginning to disinfect the blade he'd been using; Reaching to hold it out for you to take, you decline the offer.

Instead, your hand finds the hilt of your own blade, "No, thank you. I prefer to use my own."

Paul's eyes catch and linger on the blade; He blinks those long lashes a few times, as if deep in thought, before nodding. "Of course." He says, voice quiet as he turns. Duncan watches with disinterest, sipping on a cup of water as Paul brushes past you, giving you a tight-lipped, emotionless smile.

It's not until he's gone that you turn your stare to Duncan Idaho.

"He fights like you," You observe, beginning to stretch; if it's instigative, let it be.

Duncan's brow raises, "That's a good thing." He retorts, running a finger over the blade Paul had set down. You roll your eyes, concealing it by unsheathing your blade to begin sharpening it.

You can feel his stare. you know Duncan - he's not going to come out and say it, given how you've received his presence since arriving on Caladan; Instead, you beat him to it, turning to meet his eyes. "Did you expect me to be bald under the veil?" You ask, lifting a brow, "I lived there long enough, didn't I?"

He holds his hands up defensively, "I didn't say anything." He's right; you're acting up. Acting out. Probably both. You send him a look, "You didn't have to." You feel a defensive streak kick in yourself, considering what you'd learned about your own heritage by Paul yesterday. You'd been embarrassed in front of him - not knowing your own House's marriage traditions, or even the correct mourning phases? You looked like a fool.

He shakes his head. "You just... you've gotten older. You look like your mother." A pain that you've been holding down surfaces, striking you in the small gap your wall had built around your heart; guilt of survival, anger at your mother and all she'd done, everything shatters. You glare, throwing your knife onto the table in front of you.

"Don't speak to me of any of them, Duncan Idaho." You snap, eyes burning with emotion. "I was never prepared to be the last Bourbon alive, but now there's nobody left to witness my traditions being broken but myself." You say coldly, "I'm done with the veils and the gowns; I'm barely a Bourbon at all anymore. I didn't even know there were traditions until my betrothed informed me of them." Your voice is venomous; You can tell Duncan is preparing himself for a fight of words and not blades as he walks towards you.

"You've always been a fighter, my lady," Duncan chooses, his tone filled with respect; you can't help but hear the voice of someone who is approaching a cornered hound. "But you don't have to face it all alone."

Astounded, you almost laugh. "Really?" You snap, "Then where were you?"

You knew it would boil over at some point; By the look on his face, he knew it too.

Hands shaking, you take a shaky breath, "I was there with them - with him - for four years. Four years." You say, heart thundering, "Not one single fucking check-in, no visit, nothing. Nobody batted an eye when my messages stopped delivering, when there was never a wedding?"

You're not finished; the floodgates open, you're at your own mercy to stop and you can't help but continue. "-They had to have known what kind of monsters they'd shipped me off to, right? We were allies with the Atreides for centuries; we've always known what the Harkonnens are."

You laugh mirthlessly, "And yet, they sent me, happily, to marry the devil. To become one." You're breathing hard, hands shaking - the room feels hot and you can't seem to catch your breath. "-And I know, Duncan. I know that your hands were tied." You sigh, pressing your hands to your cheeks to soothe the heat. Thankfully, no tears fall. "I don't blame you, really, but- you're the only person left to be angry towards." Your voice cracks as you look down, shame burning on your face.

Duncan's expression softens, his gaze filled with regret and remorse. "I'm sorry for everything you lost, my lady." he says, his voice heavy; You resist the urge to pull him into an embrace, to feel the warmth of someone else and feel safe for the first time in so long. Instead you stand, barren and alone, in the middle of the floor.

"I should have been there for you - they should have, too."

It strikes a bout of guilt in you to make him admit something so ugly when you know he is grieving their loss just as you are. "They should have done something to help you. It's okay to still be angry with them, what they did to you, even if you're mourning them."

His words cut through the haze of anger and pain and you're stuck with an exhaustion - one that comes from the years of neglect and abandonment. You look down at the ground; perhaps it won't hurt to have someone on your side, someone you trust. It's been a dangerous and lonely several years, and you're tired of always trying to watch your own back. Clearing your throat, you nod. "I'm sorry, Duncan." You utter, looking up at him squarely. "I shouldn't have treated you coldly. I haven't been taking this change well at all." You confess.

He gives you a look, shaking his head, "There is nothing for you to apologize for, Little Bourbon." At the shadow of a smile on your face, he grins; He's always known what will cheer you up - tossing you your blade from where it sat on the table, he squares himself. You catch it deftly, rolling your neck and squaring yourself, thankful for the end of such a vulnerable moment.

The sound of footsteps disrupts you. You crane your neck behind you; A soldier walks through the room, but instead of addressing Duncan after bowing to you, he speaks to you.

"My lady." He starts. You raise a brow in question. "The Lady Jessica wishes to speak with you over lunch in her quarters now, if you have a moment."

You grit your teeth, a shot of uncertainty flooding you. You've yet to dine with her on your own yet - something about her sets you on edge, and you'd really prefer to spar to take your mind off of everything.

But you know better than to refuse the lady of the house's wishes.

"And spoil my fun here?" You ask, voice dry. "Alright."

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Lunch is barely picked at before Lady Jessica brings it up.

When she speaks, your eyes meet hers - less stony than usual, she regards you with an interest in her eyes that you've yet to see before. "You were once on the path of the Bene Gesserit," Lady Jessica starts, her voice tinged with empathy; You try to hide the set of your jaw, looking away briefly.

"Circumstances may have led you away, but your training has not been forgotten." She adds. You suspected this would be one of the reasons she called you in. "Yes, my lady," You affirm, setting down your fork; you send her a tight-lipped smile. "I trained when I was younger."

She nods, "Have you considered continuing this path? Honing your skills once more—to strengthen your voice, your intuition, your presence."

You take the moment she gives you to consider it; of course, you've thought of it now and then. But you have, to put it lightly, a very conflicted past with the Sisterhood, one that you prefer not to relive; Your mother's stern visage, relentless training regimens appear in your mind. Countless hours in rigorous physical and mental exercises - pressure to conform to their strict teachings weighing too heavily upon you and all three of your sisters' shoulders.

There's a part of you that can't help the twinge of curiosity that sparks through you; The allure of such an ancient order, unlocking hidden potential, the possibility of power and mastery of certain skills. It sounds glamorous, but you know better- you saw what kind of mistrust it sewed in your own house; The crack between your father and his court on behalf of your mother and the sisterhood, the loss of thousands of years of tradition.

Your lips open, and they feel suddenly very chapped. "I'm... not sure, my lady." You say honestly, blinking down at the unappetizing food below you.

"I understand your hesitations," she continues, voice earnest, "but given the current circumstances, it may be wise to strengthen all of your skills, including those you learned with the Bene Gesserit. It's imperative to ere on the side of caution."

"Circumstances?" You parrot, tilting your head. You know what she's implying; it doesn't ease the suspicion that rises, the feeling that the strings which tie themselves to Lady Jessica's limbs and lips are being pulled from much higher above your head; high enough to have actual, galactic implications. It is keenly upsetting.

"Yes, my dear." She begins, taking a sip of water, back straight; she doesn't bother to elaborate for you, and a tinge of irritation courses through you. "Tell me," She says, stirring the tea in front of her, "Even after your time with the sisterhood, did you ever experience visions? Dreams that stayed with you long after you woke?"

Your throat dries so quick you almost cough. Cheeks heating up, your eyes lock with hers; so it was a look of importance at the strategy council yesterday. It seems Lady Jessica has been keeping close tabs on you, after all. You hope she cannot read your mind thoroughly, for she would likely not enjoy what your dreams entail.

"You seem to already know my answer." You say, voice chilly in the warm room. Lady Jessica's lips press together. "Indeed," she affirms; gentle, yet probing. "But I need to hear it from you."

You pause, grappling with the memories that surge forth at Lady Jessica's inquiry; The dreams, the visions—they haunt you, asleep or awake - and despite your reluctance to acknowledge them, they have persisted, lingering like a shadow upon your consciousness. Swallowing against the dryness of your throat, you gather your thoughts before speaking.

"Yes," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I have."

Lady Jessica nods. "I suspected as much," she murmurs, her eyes reflecting a depth that is distinctly familiar. "These dreams may hold greater significance than you realize, dear. They may be the key to understanding the path that lies before you."

Her words hang in the air, pregnant with meaning and yet still exasperatingly cryptic; You are, in your silence, forced to acknowledge for the first times that these dreams - they are a calling, a beckoning towards something that you cannot ignore. You feel the soreness of your jaw and will your teeth to unclench.

Lady Jessica continues, murmuring your name firmly, "I urge you to consider resuming your training with the Bene Gesserit. Not out of obligation, but out of necessity. In times of uncertainty, it is essential to be prepared."

You meet Lady Jessica's gaze; despite your reservations, despite the ghosts of the past, you know that finding your studies again might be effective; the potential you will have with the skills and power of the Bene Gesserit are undeniable, but the pause you feel is very strong. There is something bizarre about the timing, about the whole interaction. To use raw power is to make yourself infinitely vulnerable to greater powers, you remember your mother saying years ago.

With a nod of affirmation, you square your shoulders. "I will consider it, my lady," you respond, meeting her gaze, "Thank you for your guidance."

Lady Jessica offers you a reassuring smile, one which does little to quell the raging in your stomach.

"You're stronger than you realize, my lady."

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It is past dark when Paul finally exits his mother's quarters.

Exhausted and overwhelmed, he lets his feet drag across the floor on his way back, thinking quite fondly of his bed and pillow, of the warmth of his sheets.

His stomach growls - his normally ravenous appetite has eluded him all day since this morning; The visit from the Reverend Mother earlier in the day had left him teetering on the edge. Admittedly, she is as commanding as she is disfavored by Paul; yet it was his mother's reaction that troubles him the most.

The last few hours, sparring on knife skills, were spent tense; He, upon entering the room, had asked nearly immediately what the Reverend Mother had told her when he was dismissed earlier in the morning, yet she remained silent and instructed him not to question it. Whispering, quiet and serious: He would find out in due time.

Lost in thought, Paul quickens his pace, his footsteps echoing down the dimly lit hallway; The weight of dual weapons training today has set his muscles to ache and groan with each step, mind not too far behind body - the sooner he is in bed, the better.

But as he rounds a corner, Paul nearly hits someone - you, in fact.

Blinking in shock, for a moment your eyes meet; nothing happens. You've stepped back slightly, seemingly just as startled as he - you're just perfectly positioned in the hall that the dim lights reflect on your clothes and you look warm, comfortable; So unlike yourself in the daylight.

"Apologies, my lady," Paul offers, his voice tight with tension as he inclines his head in a respectful nod, gaze flickering down the hall you both seemingly planned on walking down. Truthfully, he is not in the mood to speak to anyone, in particular you after the uneasy sight of your knife, hilt catching the reflection of the lights beside you.

You return the gesture, expression signaturely guarded as you mutter, "No harm done, my lord."

He clears his throat; Though your hair looks nice and your skin healthy, you look quite tired - he's not sure when he'll get used to seeing your face.

"I was just heading-" He gestures down the hall, and you nod stiffly, "So was I."

And so you fall into stride alongside him, watching the walls pass as you both take a slower pace than either of you would likely prefer. Perhaps, in an ordinary world, he would feel giddy to walk his prospective wife to her quarters after a long day; but this world is not ordinary, and he's still getting used to treating you as less as a threat and more of an ally.

A large window passes on his right, illuminating your figure in silvery light before hushing you back into the shadows again. He wonders what the moons are like on Sabberon.

He doesn't expect you to speak; in fact, he himself has no plans to. Yet after a few minutes your voice comes hesitantly and with the tranquility of a sleeping cat.

"I had lunch with your mother today."

Alarm bells sound in his head; He certainly did not expect that. When he turns to look at you, he finds you already staring up at him; perhaps you're gaging his reaction to this information - he doesn't try hard to hide his displeasure.

"What did she tell you?" He asks before he can stop himself.

You give him an inquisitive look, lifting a brow. "Why do you assume she had things to tell?" You rebut. His shoulders relax ever so slightly as he sighs, slowing his pace as you near his door.

He doesn't respond, yet something in his features must convince you to start again, to be less facetious in your words; You set your jaw as you look away and back to him.

"She wants me to take up Bene Gesserit training again." You say, eyes narrow as you gaze at him - cold, scrutinizing - perhaps to once again see his reaction. His nostrils flare; This must be what the Reverend Mother instructed his mother to do - to ensure you are going down the right paths. Why though, he is still unsure.

"She asked about your dreams, didn't she?" He asks; this time, it's Paul who watches your face for a reaction - and he gets one. Your eyes blink in shock as you nod stiffly. "Yes, she- how do you know this?" You ask, hand grabbing his elbow as you both slow to a stop.

There's a bout of silence, in which he debates nearly everything; muscles aching, he wishes to just go to sleep - but your eyes hold an alarm in them that makes him hesitate.

Opening his mouth to speak, Paul stares down at you; If what the Reverend Mother was saying is true, then you might truly be as dangerous as he'd thought. But he knows what their order is like - all in the way of maintaining power. A faint echo down the hall of someone makes his eyes snap away from your heavy stare; Perhaps the hallway is not an appropriate place for such a conversation. "We shouldn't be speaking of this here," He glances at you, "Would you come in?" He asks. He opens the door that leads to his quarters. You stare at him for a moment, as if surprised - but with a glance around, it seems you decide the coast is clear, and you slip in past where he holds to door ajar with his arm.

You walk less assured than usual in the unfamiliar territory; he knows you've been active in your time here in the castle, but this is certainly one part of the fort you have not yet seen. A guiding hand presses your back as he quickens his pace, hoping to get this over with swiftly as he leads you to his bed chamber; though your back tenses, you do not push him away.

You repose on the chair but Paul is restless, standing in front of your expectant gaze.

"Paul," You start, leaning forward; It's with a startle that he registers your use of his first name - a tone which provides no warmth but a hint of anxiety as you look up at him. "If we are to do this together, we need to build trust." You start, and he knows you're right. This - marriage, ruling Caladan, representing the House Atreides - and whatever else is to come.

"Just tell me. How concerned do I need to be?" You ask; this was not what he'd thought you would say, and it takes him a second to think of anything to respond with. The truth is a thousand pieces scattered through dust and sand, and he cannot stop slipping through it.

"I don't know." He says, candor dripping through his exasperation. "I was visited by the Reverend Mother this morning." He admits, relief finding his shoulders. If you are to be by his side in the upcoming months, you'll surely learn of all of this sooner or later; It's better to come from him than elsewhere.

Your face darkens slightly at the mention and you raise a brow.

"What did she want with you?" You ask.

"I've been having dreams." He admits to yet another person he'd rather not; "Dreams about... Sabberon. In them, I feel like..." He exhales, "I feel like I have to go there. I'm meant to." He finishes, not wishing to delve any further into what the dreams entail. You look completely shocked, though; ghostly, uneasy.

He has no answers and so instead he tells you most of what he knows; Your expression turns more grim as he continues, describing his interaction with the Reverend Mother that morning. Your eyes flick to his in shock when he mentions the previous meeting with her years prior.

"The Gom Jabbar?" You say suddenly, sitting up straighter. He nods, "Yes. It was a test-"

"-No, I know what it is. I also received it." you swallow, brows furrowing. "But I don't understand why she would give it to you."

A deep, pregnant pause in the room, where Paul debates what he's about to say. Knowledge is a weapon and a burden.

"My mother has trained me in the ways of the Bene Gesserit too."

Your face morphs for only a moment as you stare at him in disbelief. Schooling yourself, you're quieted by this revelation; Paul waits patiently for you to respond. You gather your thoughts within a few moments.

"She warned me," You say, eyes swimming through his; he feels scrutinized under your intense stare. "She said that continuing as Bene Gesserit is not out of obligation but necessity." You add, "That continuing is the key to understanding the path that lies before me. That dreams could have more meaning than we think."

His stomach drops that the phrasing. You must ensure they go down the right path. That manipulative crone; playing you, his mother, and him all as she wants for the benefit of her sisterhood. Fury boils within him, but he knows what you need is an explanation. "There's a prophecy that my mother mentioned to my father once. I was young, eavesdropping-" He shakes off the sly look you give him at this, his cheeks heating up, "- and I didn't hear all of it, but I heard parts."

He's not sure how else to piece it together than to just tell you everything he's thinking. "When the Reverend Mother administered the Gom Jabbar, she told my mother there would be two candidates for something. That I may be one of them. Today, she told me to trust my dreams, that they may be the key to unlocking something important. Which is... troubling."

The bitter laugh you let out surprises him, and he lowers himself to sit on the chaise longue beside yours. "Troubling." You mutter, shaking your head. It's the exact thing Lady Jessica implied with you.

"I'm not sure if it means anything," Your tone suggests otherwise, "but I have also been having dreams about Sabberon." You admit - his eyes snake to yours, hands clenched together; stomach dropping, dread fills him. He worried this, too; having the same dreams, however alike or different they may be, are foreboding.

"-On a mountain I do not recognize. My house has a sacred Pine, you know? It represents the Harvest. I dream that I'm there... with you." You let out a sigh, and Paul swears he hears it shake. "I haven't told anybody, not even your mother." Your eyes are sharp - fearful, he realizes.

For a beat, he feels less alone. Another soul, trapped in this web of visions and politics and power; He's sympathizing with you, a foreign and unexpected emotion. Paul is starting to nurse a sharp headache; closing his eyes, he exhales and nods, "You're there in my dreams, too." He admits.

The two of you sit, then; Paul, slumped with consternation and you, back rigid with stress.

A moment of silence in which Paul is overthinking and you likely are too.

"Do you trust her?" You ask; A foolish thing to ask one of one's mother - yet his hesitation shocks not just you, but himself as well.

He starts hesitantly. "I believe that she loves me and my father, and by extension, she cares for you." He is well-aware of the vagueness behind his words. He licks his lips, "I know that the sisterhood instructed her to have a daughter. But instead, for my father, she bore him a son. The Reverend Mother is still unhappy about it."

You stare, but you say nothing. Uneasy with the intensity of your attention, he plays with a spare thread poking from the chaise longue. "This morning, I overheard the Reverend Mother telling my mother to ensure we are on the right path. Both of us."

You, sharp as ever, nod thoughtfully, "Which is why she decided so abruptly to offer for me to train again."

He nods in affirmation, biting his lip; a bad stress habit, one he got from his father. Your voice is almost dreamy as it comes out, his eyes staring off at the small bull figurine that sits on his table. You ask, "How do we know which path is the right one?"

He laughs bitterly, shaking his head as he stares ahead. He has no clue. "I wish I had an answer," he admits, his voice tinged with frustration. "All we can do is trust our instincts, but even then, there are no guarantees. Not if we don't believe them."

You nod in understanding, a solemn but signature expression painting your features. "It's a heavy burden to bear," you remark softly, your voice echoing his sentiments; Heavy, yes. But you seem used to burdens. "All things are known because we want to believe in them." You say. He perks up, looking at you; That's something his mother has said during skills training training before - but in your voice, now, next to him - it sounds much different.

Weary and exhausted, Paul sighs. "Perhaps if I'd had a sister, this wouldn't be happening."

You snort softly from your nose, a gentle exhale that is becoming quite familiar to his ears. "I had three. They were a handful." You say, hugging yourself.

He hums. For a moment, he can almost picture it; You, ten years smaller, just a young teen - fighting in a snow field with three sisters, a little boy chasing after you. He almost hears your screams when your younger sister jumps into a half-frozen lake, the water green as emeralds against the white fields and evergreens in the distance. The laughter that leaves you as you plunge, dress and all, into the icy depths besides her and pull your sisters with you; Handmaids wearing furs and soldiers boasting roaring wolf armor run to fish you out. They almost feel real. "What was it like, growing up with siblings?" he asks, seeking to reciprocate the gesture of openness that you've surrendered in the dark.

Your demeanor shifts slightly, your guard momentarily lowering as you reflect on your upbringing. "It was...complicated," your voice is contemplative, small. "We were close in some ways, but distant in others. There was always a sense of competition between us even when we were young, especially between me and my sisters. My mother was Bene Gesserit and was very strict."

He's studied so much about Sabberon, learned about your House's old customs and traditions - but yet, he realizes how little he truly knows about you; A pang of guilt washes over him for his previous assumptions and judgments.

Your boots look foreign against the rug on his bed chamber floor as you drag the tip of one. "They were like having built-in friends." You acquiesce, "They made me laugh all the time."

It's hard for Paul to picture you joking or laughing at all. "I don't have siblings," He states - obviously - "but I've always wanted to be a brother."

He knows the bittersweet territory he's crossed, and does not wish to upset you or remind you of all you have lost. But instead, you just send him a kind smile; one that's almost shy. "You'd be a good one." Your eyes are nostalgic and sincere; he has to look away.

Clearing his throat, he notices your hands as they sit in your lap. "It looks better," He says, nodding to your hand, where the sting had been reduced to a mere blemish. You smile, a sheepish thing, but it still brightens Paul's dark room. "I thought you'd been tricking me." You admit, face flushed as he lifts a brow, "Trying to make me look foolish."

He hums at this, tilting his head. "I assumed you'd thought I was trying to poison you." He admits, smiling just as sheepishly. Speaking with you feels surprisingly relieving - perhaps he is more tired than he thought.

"The possibility did cross my mind." Your voice, keenly serious, makes him chuckle slightly. He shakes his head, "I wouldn't have tricked you. I know how bad those crabs sting." He recalls one day lathering the chewed root onto his toe, fighting tears as his father watched with an amused sternness. If you disrespect them, he'd said, they'll disrespect you.

"I was considering amputating my hand before you showed up." Another attempt at a joke, from you? You're opening up; despite himself, he grins. Your eyes are deep - under the dim lighting, they shine in a way he hadn't expected; staring, he loses his track of thought. You seem to have as well, clearing your throat awkwardly.

"Is this your book?" You ask suddenly, rising to pad over towards his bedside, tilting your head to run your spine over the book that sits, embarrassingly, on his bedside table. The Noble Lineage: Exploring the Customs and Cultures of the Houses Major of Landsraad: House Bourbon. He nods, "If you'd like to read it, help yourself."

Craning your neck back you look at him, lifting a brow, "Is it interesting?"

For a second, he stares, unsure what to say - it dawns on him that you're teasing, and he cracks a small smile. Odd as it is to see a woman who was a mere shell open up, he's glad to have the priviledge of your trust, no matter how small or weak it may be.

"Haven't decided yet." He retorts, the feeling foreign.

"Maybe I will borrow it, then." You muse, "Perhaps it'll finally be the thing to lull me to sleep."

He stands to meet you; three steps over and he stands before you, taking in - not for the first time - your height and how your neck moves to look into his eyes. "You should get some rest if you can tonight." He agrees, "We've got to be at the Strategy Council tomorrow morning."

You nod, clearing your throat, "Oh- Yes, apologies." You sigh, "It's been a long day."

He hadn't meant to insinuate you should leave, but as he escorts you to the main hall, his eyes are drooping. Mercifully, though he tries to, you insist he need not walk you to your room.

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Alone back in his room, he stares at the book; Despite the barriers that still exist between he and you, there's a shared humanity that binds you together— funny enough that fear and reluctance is the thing that has made him realize such an obvious sentiment. He falls asleep and dreams within minutes.

You return to your chambers, the warmth of the last few minutes wearing off of you slower than molasses.

Alone, you are left with haunting thoughts; What do the Bene Gesserit have in store for you if you do choose to continue? Looming further is the prospect of galactic war should the Harkonnens leverage their petroleum reserves. The implications of you and Paul's shared visions; despite yourself, your cheeks flush with heat - how similar are these dreams of yours...?

And Paul - his eyes are very green.

He keeps his room neater than you'd thought - and with a bit of shock you'd seen all of the books on planets, flora and fauna, biology, culture. You secretly wished you could have observed them all closer - there were ones you've never heard of, and even one that had struck you right in the chest - Giedi Prime. Their culture was horror, after all.

You shake off the warm feeling of conversation - though the subject had left you on edge, it was terribly reassuring to have someone who not only you could speak freely with about your dreams and the Bene Gesserit, but who seems to hold similar opinions as you. Emotional whiplash has given you a staunch headache - you still believe that respecting someone is not the same as enjoying someone's company... but perhaps it doesn't always have to be mutually exclusive.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes; you can't get the smell of his bedroom off your clothes. You change into your robe. Before drifting to sleep, you catch sight of your bureau, the daunting metal that stares at you gleaming from across the room.

Yawning, you pad over to it.

The message remains on your desk, where it's been since being delivered a few days ago. You'd read it already, yes - read, cried, raged, and accepted it. Now, you suppose, it is time to respond. And in due time, it's finished.

My Dearest Aunt Ginaz,

Your letter arrived at a very uncertain time for me and for that, I am profoundly grateful. I apologize for the delayed response, it has been quite an adjustment for me after leaving Giedi Prime; Before that, as you've suspected, my keepers preferred I did not receive or send messages. There wasn't a day that passed where I didn't wish to read them.

For my betrothal to Paul Atreides, your kind words of congratulations reassure me; Truthfully, the prospect of marrying into such a noble family is daunting, yet they have been quick to assure I have felt welcomed. It is a sharp change from my previous engagement.

The loss of my family continues to weigh heavily upon my heart, and there are days when the pain feels unbearable. Yet, every day I am learning to live again. I can walk to the sea - the sea, which I have never before seen in my life. I spend my days educating, training with Swordmaster and your old friend Duncan Idaho, and have begun to sit in on the Duke's Strategy Councils. I believe I will live well here.

The final arraignment at the referendum is nearing, and I wonder if you will be attending alongside Lord Ginaz - Even if you are not able to attend, I will face the challenges that lie ahead knowing I have you on my side.

Your offer of sanctuary is a gift beyond measure, and I cannot express how much it means to me. I long for the day when we can be reunited and I might hear more of your life. In the meantime, know that I am safe and well, and that I carry your love and affection with me always.

With all my gratitude,

Your loving Niece

You almost feel guilty for the lies you've woven through your message - though not explicit, they are little and white and still deceiving. Your mother's bastarded sister, who succeeded your mother's parents when they died, inherited the noble last name as one of her father's dying wishes. They'd had several daughters - all married off to other houses, like your mother - and she had been left to learn to run the Swordmaster School. She now rules over their house with her husband, who took the name Ginaz when they wed.

You smirk, thinking of this: Paul Bourbon - it has a poor ring to it, you decide, wiping away the thought before it can blossom. You blink deliriously, knowing you are in acute need of sleep, and sigh.

You'll have Hestia send the message out in the morning; for now, all you can do is try not to dream as you curl up on your bed, eyes heavy with the weight of the day.

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You know you're dreaming this time.

The clouds are too fluffy, sounds muted as if you'd stuffed cotton into your ear canals. The hands that are on you are Paul's, you know this. But you're not embracing, no - there is no pleasure; his hands are slippery against your flesh and you're gasping in pain, gasping for breath. You are bleeding.

Or, is that his blood?

You squint, trying to find the ground, but all you see is the hilt of your nameday blade glinting in the sun, blood dripping from the tip. Who wields it? You let out a short groan, filled with pain - Paul leans against you, his weight heavy. The air is heavy with snow - no, not snow, ash. Ash that rains from the sky in flurries, fighter ships booming above your heads.

Another flash of your knife, this time in a hand. Gasping,Your hand comes away from your own abdomen, tainted black - black as the sun you once lived under.

"Hello?" A fuzzy voice, laced with pain, but you could pick it out of millions. You look into his eyes and see green; hands cup your cheeks, staining handprints over your trembling skin. An explosion somewhere in the distance -

"Paul." You breathe, fear lacing every fiber of you. You're dreaming, you're dreaming. You can't breathe.

But then, Paul's face changes - a sickening recognition flickers over his features when you speak, and something shifts. There is something wrong; He says your name as if he's surprised to see you, as if... as if you were in the wrong dream.

He looks down, as if expecting to see something between the two of you. But with his head tilted down, you squint, just barely making out the glint of another figure; glowing skin, sickeningly pale. A black smile.

There is someone behind Paul, and he is holding your knife.

It has the blood of your husband on it.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

follow @tremendumnotifs for updates.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:

[necstasy]

paul atreides x bene gesserit reader? 👀 pretty please

slight manipulation?; bene gesserit reader; &. PAUL ATREIDES MDNI 18+

"have you mastered it yet?"

you know what the atreides son is speaking of. the voice, one of the most difficult parts of the bene gesserit training. for a second, you wonder how he knows of the technique. and then you remember his mother, a woman the reverend mother has spoken highly of during your training sessions, despite her defiance.

your eyes watch you and paul's hands as you go to speak. they hang in suspended air off to the side of you both, fingertips touching lightly as paul leads your hands up, down, and to either side. he's creating a box, you realize. it's a soothing and mesmerizing dance.

"no. not yet."

paul hums. his free hand moves from behind your back to your waist.

"it's difficult." it's not a question, he speaks from experience. your eyebrows furrow. you have the urge to ask him how exactly he knows. you want to know if he is being trained in the ways of the bene gesserit, something a man has never been privy to.

but so much else is already sacred in this space. in the dead of night, in your guest quarters, a space that you should not be sharing with the only son of your host for the next week. but it was only natural that you and paul found each other. there was a pull drawing you towards him since you got off the ship. the order of events surely would have driven you two together in an intimate space sooner or later.

"it is," you agree after a moment.

paul shuffles just a bit closer to you. the bend in your elbow increases as your bodies get closer. paul's hand flexes as he bunches the dark fabric of your nightgown in his hands, pulling you just a hair closer. you shouldn't be this close to him. you've never been this close to a man before.

the energy is electrifying.

it buzzes through the air, pulsating between you both to the beat of your heart. you try to call on your learnings. you try to calm your heart in the most simple human ways, the ways your mother taught you before the reverend mother did.

paul licks his lips before he responds again. he takes a moment, he breathes, and you pull your eyes away from your hands to look at paul. the glowglobe hovering just behind you illuminates his face perfectly. it casts shadows where his curls lay over his forehead, it deepens the impressive hollow of his cheekbones. you can see how long his eyelashes are, and how colorful his eyes are. you're hyper-aware of the moles dotting his face, and the scar he has in his cheek.

you're even closer than you thought, but you like it.

"i found that ... pleasure can help you."

your eyebrows shoot up towards your hairline before they fall back to their resting place and push together instead.

"pleasure?"

paul nods.

"how do you mean, my lord?"

his lips quirk up at the honorific and you suddenly feel silly for using it. paul doesn't mention it, though.

"when i'm alone in my room at night, in my own company—" the image enters your brain before you can fight it. paul on his back, his hand below his waist, his eyes heavy lidded and his breath even heavier. you swallow and clear your throat.

"it's like i can feel it wanting to come out of me. and the mornings after, when my mother makes me use it, it's easier."

you don't know how much truth exists in his words, and his suggestion, even if it has yet to be blantantly placed in front of you, is dangerous. it's stupid and risky. and yet, you find yourself drawn to it. that same pull that brought you to paul is bringing you to wanting him to lay out his invitation.

he does soon after.

"do you want to try it?"

you do. you really, really do.

"how would we do it?"

paul pulls you even closer to him and now your chests are touching. he's fighting back a smile, it's obvious in the way the skin around his lips dimples for a second before returning to neutrality. when he speaks, it's harder for him to hide it.

"i don't have to touch you if you don't want me to."

"i want you to." the admission slips from your mouth so quickly and so easily. it's a little embarrassing. your skin warms.

paul takes a moment. he stares at you, eyes flickering back and forth between yours. "okay," he finally says. his smile takes over the lower half of his face. "then i can touch you, and you have to focus, okay?"

you nod.

paul slinks his hand up your back, over your shoulder, and cups your cheek. he intertwines your fingers, your hands still suspended in the air, and he moves just a bit closer until his lips finally lay onto yours.

[omgwhatchloe]

REASONS WHY HAVING SOME RDR2 CHARACTERS AS YOUR PASSENGER IN YOUR CAR SUCKS:

Charles: Only talks to points out every single animal he sees. Other than that, it’s just silence unless you start the conversation or you’re Arthur. Oh but trust me, he wants the AUX. He’s just not gunna ask.

John: Either demands the AUX cord or just connects it anyway, then proceeds to be musically inconsiderate with what he plays. You despise this song with every ounce of your being? Too bad. This song reminds you of your lowest point? Suck it up buttercup. This was playing in the car when you crashed and killed the person in the passenger seat? Womp womp.

Dutch: Seems to think it’s his car. In fact, he feels completely free to change the music, turns up the heat as much as he pleases, winds the windows up and down, moves his seat constantly etc etc.

Reverend Swanson and Mary-Beth: Car sick. So very car sick. Your two options when driving them anywhere is the sound of heavy breathing with the sounds of the highway being blasted in through the open window, or bags rustling with the sound of puking and groaning. Trust me, they’d rather have walked as well.

Javier: Awful navigator. It’s fine when you know where you’re going, but absolutely awful when you need navigation. Half the time, you look over and he’s gone off the navigation app and is playing subway surfers and texting. The other half of the time, he’s misreading the directions then yelling at YOU. Not to mention it’s completely unsurprising to wonder why you’ve been driving for so long then find he’s clicked on the entire wrong destination without a second thought.

Sean: Acts like he’s never eaten before in his life as soon as he gets into the car. Sees a Wendy’s? He’s suddenly starving. Burger King? He hasn’t eaten in three days. KFC? He’ll pay you back, he swears! In fact, the man has absolutely no problem being late for anything if you stop for food. You could be on the way to Davey’s funeral, already running late and suddenly pull into the Krispy Kreme carpark and you would not hear a single protest from him.

Micah: Yaps a whole lot of waffle about how he’s all this n all that to the point you don’t even know what he’s saying anymore and neither does he. Also enjoys flipping random people off and yelling shit out of the window. Expect to be chased by an angry driver for at least 12 miles.

Bill: Eats and then just throws his trash on the floor without a single second thought. If you ask him to pick it up, he will, but not without angrily grumbling and snatching it up. Is in a bad mood for about 2 minutes before he realises he wants to yap so does.

Karen, Uncle, Abigail and Sean: Distracts the driver. Whether it’s with yapping or loud videos or drinking or messing with the music volume, they somehow keep it up from the start of the drive right to the end.

Hosea: Puts his feet up and puts his seat back like he’s in bed. Just won’t sit normally. Will give you a ‘look’ when you ask him to put them down.

Lenny: Makes things awkward, because the first thing he does is comment on the dirtiness of your car then looks extremely shocked and uncomfortable at himself for saying that for about 7 seconds before pulling out his phone and facetiming Sean for the whole drive and giving you the same looks Hosea does when you try to speak to him. When not on the phone, he tends to respond with shrugs and “Okay then,” while folding him arms and staring out of the window. Seems to be in an awful mood until he’s out of the car. He hates car rides if it’s not with his favourite people.

Molly: Acts like you can’t drive. Struggling to see what’s right in front of you? Molly’s got your back! Seriously, she will yell at you to stop at the red light you had already seen 7 seconds ago and started to slow for. Old woman crossing (while you’re already stopped)? She will yell at you not to go so loud you debate kicking her out and making her get her own car, since she knows so much.

Tilly and Strauss: Tries to get you to speed. It’s like they’ve never heard of laws before, and will insist you ‘go faster’ even though your way is blocked by other cars. It’s painfully obvious they both can’t drive and have never had to pay for gas money.

Miss Grimshaw: Absolutely disgusted by your car and wants to make that very clear. It wouldn’t be surprising if halfway through, she started to clean it herself.

Jack: Really really really wants to press that horn. You’d find it cute at first, but so goddamn annoying when your car starts honking in the middle of a busy crossing. It’s like a constant slap-fight except you’re pushing his hands away every-time they come for the horn.

Arthur: Constantly asking to pull over. He’ll casually say “stop here” as if you’re a taxi, not to mention you’re in the middle of nowhere on the highway and you really don’t understand what a stranger mission means. Commonly, you have to explain things like how you’re already an hour late and you literally do not have the room to drive that family of five that’s broken down anywhere, nor can you stop at an empty warehouse and potentially get arrested for trespassing because he wants to explore.

Kieran: Terrified when you go slightly over the speed limit. He acts like he’s in an F1 race with no seatbelt being hung out of the window.

[outlawruben]

How I think rdr2 characters respond to praise/compliments!

(They are going to sound kinda dumb but I promise I actually put effort into these.)

This may be interpreted as Cannon x Reader or Cannon x your ship!

These are totally fluffy and definitely SFW Jsyk

Abigail Marston - she probably would scoff and wave her hands/playfully slap them, or simply say thank you

Arthur Morgan - turn bright red and hot under the brim of his hat, and responds to them with a half mumbled: “it’s really nothing..” and then walk away awkwardly. (He’s seen with a smile on his face for the rest of the day) (he’s gonna write a new journal entry abt this)

Bill Williamson - scoffs and tells them to “shut up” but loves the compliment. (He always seems to think he’s being picked on)

Charles Smith - goes all quiet for a beat after the compliment and then gives them a sincere “thank you” he smiles at them for the rest of the day.

Dutch Van Der Linde- A simple: “Thank you M’dear.” However, they’ve inflated his ego even more which Dutch appreciates, and goes to seek their company more.

Hosea Matthews - surprised he was sought after to receive a compliment, depending on what it is, he will openly appreciate it, and mean it.

Jack Marston - “Thank you! :D” his momma taught him manners.

Javier Escuella- He responds with a small chuckle and a “thank you” they are chill now/ they’ve leveled up in Javier liking them.

John Marston- Not expecting it at first but then he melts into a dumb grin and starts avoiding eye contact as he says “thank you.”

Josiah Trelawny- “why thank you!” With a smile. He really appreciates compliments.

Karen Jones- “Ain’t you sweet?” She smirks at them. And that’s basically it.

Kieran Duffy- definitely not expecting a compliment of any kind. “O-oh- thank you..” he smiles kindly and fidgets.

Lenny Summers- grins widely and gives a “thank you!” His mind seems to wander back to the interaction for the rest of the day

Leopold Strauss- Kind of confused but shares his small gratitudes anyway

Mary-Beth Gaskill - “Oh, thank you..” she idly plays with her hair as she talks with them.

Micah Bell - At the very least he’ll scoff, and if he does say anything it’s along the lines of: “Christ, why you so soft?” But he’s blushing nonetheless.

Molly O’Shea- She giggles sweetly and blushes, sharing her gratitudes, and when she sees them for the rest of the day she smiles at them kindly. (She’s happy someone is paying attention to her, giving her a compliment even)

Reverend, Orville Swanson- if not in a drunken stupor, he says his thanks with a grateful smile.

Sadie Adler- grins at them ear to ear with a “thanks..” and soft blush forming on her cheeks

Sean MacGuire- “I din’ know ye’ loved me or something.” He teases them, grinning dumbly.

Simon Pearson- genuinely appreciates it, his big smile misshaping his mustache

Susan Grimshaw- “why thank you darlin’ “ she smiles at them. Not really expecting a compliment but she’s always appreciative of all affection.

Tilly Jackson- “Thank you!” She says kindly full of gratitude and love. (It means the world to her)

Uncle - he didn’t hear it

[reliquaryofflesh]

someone wants to be a star right noww! actually, i would just love for you to drug me up and get me all bloody for your pretty snuff film. all on display, but its not live this time. nono, you're not going to show your friends everything. they dont deserve to see how good this will be. you get to pick what you wanna do..obviously. its not like i have the choice, do i? [of course i have a choice, im the one in control here. always am.] after youre finished you can hold up my sleepy head and smile for the camera ♡♡ taking good care of your broken boytoy!!! even though he's ah, uh, minus a liter or two of blood..

Ooo, now that sounds nice.

Ruin that makeup you worked so hard on, give you lots of pretty bruises and make you bleed for me, all over that cute outfit. You won’t be able to feel that much I imagine, but that’s okay. It doesn’t matter much at this point anyway. You may be the star, but the show’s mine to run. And by the end you’d be so weak I don’t suppose you’d be able to fight back much against whatever else I want to do to you, either! I always take good care of my starring actor, who else am I supposed to film these things with?

There is no one else.

Only you. :)

[vilentt]

He’s Psychotic

Feyd Rautha x Reader

Paul Atreides x Reader

(no decided final relationship yet.

AO3 Counterpart

PART I - PART II

Caladan

The prettiest girl in all of Caladan; prettier than the emperor’s daughter, Irulan. You are princess Atreides.

You’re the daughter of Duke Leto and his forever prized concubine, Lady Jessica. You and Paul have an age gap of four years and have always bonded super well. Although it always felt like Paul wanted the bond to exceed what you thought was the set limit.

Giedi Prime

(6 years after you were born)

10 year old Paul and 6 year old you are sitting in the Giedi Prime conservatory garden, staring amidst the artificial sunlight.

The tension between the Harkonnen and the Atreides was very mild. In fact, mild enough that you, Paul and Feyd were practically a trio. Except the fact you spent less time with the two as they did with each other as you were a girl and could only watch them duel.

As they would duel, your mother would pull you aside to teach you the Bene Gesserit ways. You were well versed in the rules and could command your voice much better than those around you.

Your mother didn’t have to teach you the way of them but she insisted because the consequence of her having a son instead of daughter resulted in her either having to teach you herself or have the Reverend Mother keep you with her for 6 months of each year teaching you the way with much more rigorous behaviour.

“Paul! mother is demanding your presence in her chambers.” you said making Paul and Feyd turn their head to you. “Do you know why?” Paul asked.

“No, I asked but she said it dosen’t concern me and that I shouldn’t concern myself with such matters, then she told me to scram.” You said with a smile and a giggle.

“Oh okay then, Feyd this battle shan’t end now! We shall continue afterwards.” “Challenge accepted.” responded Feyd with a large grin.

Now tiny you and 10 year old Feyd were alone, together.

You always had a special place in your heart for Feyd. It might’ve been a crush but you considered it a blessing.

And then something hit your head, messing up your braided crown.

“Feyd!” You yelled. He only grinned. He gave you his hand to hold, silently asking you to walk with him. You obviously accepted with a pink colour spread all across your face.

-“How are you?”

-“Great! But my mother keeps scheduling classes for me and making me do-…”

He cut your voice out. He tuned it out and focused on your bright eyes, bright face, soft hair and beautiful smile. He would turn the sun around if it meant you would keep smiling. Oh how he always admired that smile of yours.

You stopped.

In front of you was Feyd’s older brother, Glossu.

-“The Baron wants to see you Feyd.”

Feyd nodded knowing what would happen if his uncle’s wishes were delayed. He laid a soft kiss on your hand and walked away.

You were now, alone. A pool of emotions. Your mind turning, not understanding how you feel.

[shegatsby]

Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/n; Hi my little doves, sorry i kept you waiting because i had my uncle and his family over from Germany and we spent quality time and also im working and my work is crazy lately but here i am. Love you all xx (sorry for any typos)

TAG LIST IS OPEN! (let me know if i forgot to tag you)

Warnings; Fighting! SMUT in next chapter!

Words; 3.529K

Chapter Eight ‘’Newly Weds''

She had to admit the food was delicious, she was aware that the meat dishes were exactly the way she prefered it, but she had no appetite, the grand hall was packed, houses all around the galaxy came to her wedding, including her sister-in-law and best friend Irulan, their tables were close so she saw Irulan smiled at her warmly, maybe she was encouraging her or feeling pity, Y/N couldn’t read her face from afar. Various guests brought presents such as; ancient scripts, carpets made of spice, valuable stones to make jewelry.. after a while she lost count.

When it was time to dance Feyd-Rautha bolted to his feet with a stoic expression and extended his hand to his new bride, ‘’May I have this dance?’’ it wasn’t a question he was basically demanding and it was custom for bride and groom to start the dance, the entire galaxy knew it. ‘’Yes, my Lord.’’ She replied and held his warm hand, his fingers grasped her delicate hand, he led her to the obsidian dance floor, when he held her waist she felt a sudden rush to her chest like her blood just gathered there.

‘’Try to smile, everyone is watching us.’’ He said quietly, obviously caring for his reputation and his wife’s. She looked into his eyes first, he was an excellent dancer and she was in awe every time, his blue orbits made her feel like they were the only two people in the grand hall, she felt at ease and automatically the corners of her lips lifted up into a gentle smile, a smile that pleased Feyd deeply but he kept his composure.

Soon other couples joined them, she followed Feyd’s eyes to a couple dancing close to them and she turned to see the couple, Pyramus and his fiancé were dancing…

Y/N’s eyes couldn’t believe what she was witnessing, ‘’Aww, are you hurt little dove?’’ she turned to Feyd, his tone was mocking but his eyes held something else, she could see a storm brewing in those ocean eyes, ‘’He doesn’t interest me anymore.’’ She was telling the truth but in Feyd’s dark mind she was a liar. Feyd didn’t respond and kept guiding the dance however he could feel raw rage building in him. His mind which was led by his uncle for so long was doubting his wife’s reply;

‘’She is lying, isn’t she?’’

‘’One cannot forget someone they once held dear..’’

‘’Were they ever intimate with each other?’’

His twisted mind kept twirling into those dark thoughts but his perfectly chiseled face showed no evidence of it.

Y/N’s eyes watched the guests retrieve to their guest chambers one by one, it was almost dawn and she was tired, her feet were killing her but Feyd stood still like a champion, she wondered if he was tired as well but his composure promised otherwise, Y/N found herself admiring her husband for being strong and when she caught herself doing it she shook her weary head in disbelief.

‘’Congratulations again dear nephew.’’ Baron Vladimir approached in his elevated carriage, towering above them, ‘’Thank you uncle.’’ Feyd’s response was short, Y/N bowed to show respect, Reverend Mother was next to Baron in her black clothing, covered head to toe, ‘’I shall pray for the old gods and the new for your marriage to succeed.’’ She said her eyes only focused on Y/N, she understood Reverend Mother’s true intentions, after all Y/N was one of them and she was trained to read between the lines, Reverend Mother was basically saying that ‘’I’ll pray for you to survive and keep Harkonnens connected to the Bene Gesserit by blood’’ one way or another she had to produce heirs but her plan was to avoid it as much as she could. ‘’Thank you Reverend Mother.’’ She bowed to her as well.

The way to Feyd’s chambers were covered with white roses, it was a custom of the Harkonnes, when the celebration of marriage ends the bride and groom walk back to the groom’s chambers hand in hand among white flowers to consummate the marriage.

Y/N’s heart was beating at full speed, his hand was like a cage to her hand, the hall was so silent that she could her heart beat in her ears, she knew the way to his chambers since she had been occupying it for days. She turned to get a glance of Feyd, her husband… his stoic face made her even more uneasy, she never liked not knowing or not predicting someone’s actions.

When they reached to the black door Feyd let go of her hand to open the door, he walked in and extended his hand, she took his hand again and walked in and her skin froze when she heard the door close.

‘’Do I have to kill him for you to stop loving him?’’ was Feyd’s first words to Y/N since the dance, she knew something was wrong with him.

‘’Pardon me?’’ she turned to face him, they were in the bedroom section, the entire chambers living room, bathroom and bedroom were spotless and decorated with white roses, it smelled nice.

Staring down at her, Feyd’s eyes were dark and intense as he asked the question that had been weighing on his twisted mind  since the celebrations, ‘’Do you still love him even after he sold you off for spice?’’ his voice laced with a hint of jealousy and possessiveness. His gaze remained on her, not entirely convinced by her words earlier when she said that Pyramus didn’t interest her anymore, ‘’Then why does he still have an effect on you?!’’ he asked, his tone tinged with skepticism.

She couldn’t believe that she was being accused of this, ‘’Why would a man who sold me for spice could have an effect on me?!’’

Feyd smirked as her anger flared, relishing the fact that he had gotten under her skin. ‘’it’s a simple question little dove,’’ he said coolly, his lips slightly curled in a smug smile. The mention of her ex’s betrayal ignited a fire within him, fueling his own possessive instinct. ‘’Then why was he eyeing you so intently during our wedding?’’

His questioning made her roll her eyes, was he out of his mind? Well, it was Feyd so anything could be possible. ‘’You should ask him that my Lord!’’

Feyd’s irritation grew at her eye roll and insolent response. He couldn’t help but tighten his jaw in annoyance. ‘’I am asking you little dove.’’ He said firmly, he took a step closer, towering over her in an attempt to assert his dominance. ‘’Explain why he was staring at you like that.’’

Y/N was puzzled, how could she know? She didn’t move away from him, Feyd’s patience was wearing thin. He grabbed her chin forcefully, his grip not quite painful, but firm enough to make his intentions clear. ‘’Why can’t you just give me a straightforward answer? Do you enjoy testing my limits?’’ he growled, his eyes narrowing as he studied her face, searching for any hint of deception.

Y/N didn’t back away from his grip even though it was a bit painful, ‘’As I have said, I do not know anything about him anymore, I left him in my past and I shall not bring him to my present and my future.’’ She replied calmly but she could feel the tears forming at the corner of her pretty eyes, Feyd’s grip on her chin remained firm as he leaned in closer, his gaze unwavering as he continued to question her, ‘’Why should I believe you?’’ he asked, his tone sharp, ‘’You say you’ve left him in the past, but your actions contradict your words. I don’t buy it.’’

He was being unbelievably stubborn, was he threatened by Pyramus?

‘’I was on your side the entire time.’’ She protested, his fingers were digging in her jaw, he noticed the tears forming but remained unyielding, he took a step closer again, his body now mere inches away from her, his breath warm against her lips as he continued to probe, ‘’That might be true,’’ he admitted begrudgingly, ‘’but that doesn’t change the fact that I can sense the lingering connection between you two. Don’t try to deny it. I’m no blind.’’

Maybe he still had feelings for her but she had none left, ‘’I do not know how I can convince you but I don’t love him.’’

Feyd’s hand dropped to his side, she was free from his grasp, he didn’t say anything, didn’t have to because she could see that he was still questioning her with his eyes. He pulled out a pocket knife and moved to the bed, Y/N was watching his every move. He cut his palm and smeared the blood on the side she usually slept, before she could ask he spoke with a cold tone; ‘’In few hours maids will come to take our sheets to my uncle to show him that we have consummated our marriage.’’ He took of his clothes and threw them around, he wasn’t even looking at her side of the room. He was only in his undergarments and he got under the covers, ‘’You should scatter your clothes around the room and get some sleep.’’ His back was turned to her, Y/N did what she was told and with her lacy white undergarments she got under the covers and turned her back to him. Sleep came quicker than usual.

Feyd-Rautha was a lot of things but not a liar, after getting some sleep maids have entered their bedchambers to wake them up for the new day ahead and also to ‘’change the bed sheets’’ when they saw the blood Y/N noticed the small smiles they shared among themselves, her Bene Gesserit training told her that the servants were happy to have her as their new lady. Na-Baroness Y/N Harkonnen.

Breakfast was ready for them but Feyd ignored her and left their quarters to his study room to get some work done, he was a busy man and the house Harkonnen’s future depended on him.

While she was having her breakfast she announced; ‘’I would like to visit Giedi Prime’s orphanage.’’ Her request was an odd one, maids around the room couldn’t comprehend her request, ‘’Now that I am the Na-Baroness I represent my husband. I do not wish to busy his already occupied mind about charity work and other social details. I want to see the conditions of the orphanage and offer my help. Don’t let the workers there know that I shall visit.’’ As an Atreides born and raised ladies of her house tended to more social problems and handled them with perfection. Even though she didn’t wish to marry into Harkonnens now she had duties to fulfill, Reverend Mother’s words hanged in her weary mind, the old lady was right in a sense. Y/N had to survive no matter what and her plan was to gain the public’s affection. Show them what kind of a woman she was and how useful and helpful she could be.

Little spies of Feyd-Rautha whispered into his ear that Na-Baroness wished to visit the orphanage today, she ordered her maids to prepare bags filled with clothes, medicine, toys. Feyd found himself smiling when his spies left. He changed his plans for today and decided to join his wife.

Y/N was waiting for the ship to arrive and take her and her servants to the orphanage when she noticed her servants bowing to someone, it was a hot day and the black sun of Giedi Prime made everything look too shiny white and dark black. Her dress was simple, she wanted to give a nice impression and as her first day being Na-Baroness she had to be careful. A soft wind made the silk grey dress clung to her thighs, it was a modest one, she turned on the open field to see who was coming and saw him in all black head to toe.

‘’You thought I would let you leave the fortress on your own Na-Baroness?’’ his raspy voice was sarcastic yet held a truth to it, it was too dangerous outside for the royals to roam. ‘’As I have proven before I can hold my own but-‘’ she watched him stand next to her, his hands clasped on his lower stomach, he leaned in to hear her clearly and it made her aware once again about the height difference.

‘’I do appreciate it.’’ She finished looking up at him, he did something which surprised Y/N, he kissed her temple with his soft lips, placed his hand on the small of her back, his gesture made the servants stand there in disbelief, they have never witnessed their Na-Baron being gentle with someone, especially a woman…. Y/N noticed the glances the servants shared among each other but paid no mind. She let them whisper, if it meant that she could win the public by simple and soft gestures shared between her and her husband then she was happy to oblige. When the ship arrived Feyd held her hand and guided her inside.

The trip to the orphanage was calm, Y/N and Feyd shared a small room together, she was sitting by the small window, ‘’So,’’ she began watching the scenery before her eyes, nothing but buildings, roads and factories, at a distance she could see a forest but it was far. ‘’There is nothing wrong when you don’t dine with me but if I refuse…’’ she mentioned earlier today when he left without a word. Feyd was getting a drink, he froze with her questioning, didn’t except her to say something about it.

‘’I thought you don’t like my company, matter of fact,’’ he turned to her with a glass of wine in his palm, ‘’you said it yourself before.’’ He was teasing.

Her hands resting on her lap, she started to play with her fingers with uneasiness, ‘’I may have said something like that before.’’ She tried to hide her smirk but he saw.

‘’My Na-Baron, we have arrived.’’ A guard announced and Y/N took deep breaths before they left the ship together.

The sun again blocked her vision for few seconds when the doors of the ship opened, she forced her  eyes to stay open and get used to it. She felt his hand wrapping around her hand and together they got off the ship.

The orphanage was gigantic and white, pure white, the floors were marble with grey veins. When she looked around and found not a single tree or a bush, she thought that had to be changed.

‘’Na-Baron,’’ a man approached them like his life was at stake, he was a tall old man with a long beard and bald head, ‘’And Na-Baroness, congratulations. We pray for this union to bring prosperity and power to us.’’ He bowed, ‘’Thank you Ser.’’ Feyd-Rautha spoke with his formal manner, it was amazing to see him shift that quickly. ‘’If we had known that you were visiting we would have been ready for you.’’ He seemed embarrassed, ‘’Please,’’ she spoke with a soft tone, ‘’Do not fret. I am here to see the conditions of the children who live here and we have brought clothes, medicine and toys for them. May we see inside?’’

The old man was startled by her soft spoken nature, ‘’Of course my Na-Baroness.’’ He bowed again and led them inside.

The walls were grey marble, there was no vibrant colors for children to see and it broke her heart. In a way Y/N was an orphan, being apart from her actual parents and staying somewhere that wasn’t home… Feyd noticed the sudden shift in his wife, her hand went to her chest in a troubled manner, ‘’Are you feeling unwell.. wife?’’ just like her Feyd was also getting used to being married and having a wife. Y/N turned to smile kindly, ‘’I am fine Na-Baron, thank you.’’ She replied shortly, Feyd didn’t pressured her to explain but he made a mental note to observe her closely. Y/N noticed the looks she got from children around her, they watched her walk gracefully in awe, everyone knew the yesterday’s grand wedding and ever citizen wanted to see the Na-Baroness up close. She smiled and bowed her head slightly to the children and watched them blush and avert their afraid gaze to somewhere and look back at her again. As a Bene Gesserit her mission was to make the citizens of Giedi Prime follow the Sisterhood’s prophecies and laws but as Y/N her mission was to win their favor and show them kindness.

Together they looked at the children’s bedrooms, toilet chambers and common rooms for hang out and eating. The building was old thus the furniture and plumbing system as well. Y/N, clearly was aware that everyone was watching her, held her husband’s arm in a loving manner and spoke ‘’My dear, we should renovate this institute in our name so that children here can have the newest technology and luxuries to succeed.’’ Her plan was to move the Baron and Rabban aside and make her name and Feyd’s name more popular among the people. ‘’Such an excellent idea dear.’’ He agreed, it made her eyes shine in hope which he noticed and felt a strange sensation at his chest, the symptom was heart attack but it was impossible. Then what was it? He didn’t linger on it.

Y/N personally gave the children boxes of toys, she talked to them, listened to their dreams and Feyd found himself watching her while he was talking to the workers. His eyes were on her, she was such a natural at being kind and nurturing that he was in awe of it, all his life he was shown nothing but brutality, fight, and blood. Women in his life before were trained to be an accessory in his life style, however Y/N was the opposite and she never tried to fit in, it seemed like she had a mission and she was following it like the paper ship on a lake, flowing in the water’s direction swiftly.

It was getting dark when their work was done, they said their goodbyes and got on the ship to return to the fortress. Not knowing what was waiting for them.

The ride to the fortress was calm one, they sat in comfortable silence, she could feel his eyes every once in a while, thanks to her trainings she could sense if someone was watching her. The question she was pondering on since last night came to her again ‘’Why didn’t he sleep with me last night?’’ It was their wedding night and ever since she was brought here he seemed eager to have her and when it came to it he stayed distant, his action last night left her in disbelief. He literally cut his palm and rubbed the blood on their sheets to trick the Baron and the rest of Giedi Prime but why?

‘’Last night,’’ she found herself speak, Feyd was sitting next to her and she caught his attention, ‘’Yes?’’ his raspy voice brought her to reality, she changed her mind. ‘’Never mind.’’

As soon as they landed a servant came to collect them, said it was urgent and the Baron requested their presence. She followed Feyd, he was holding her hand, guiding her.

Baron was waiting for them at the strategy room, every house had a room like this one to have meetings for war, spice etc. Baron, as always was in his floating device, ‘’Greetings young couple.’’ His voice didn’t match his words, ‘’Hello uncle.’’ He let go of her hand, didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. She watched Baron witnessed it and smile with victory, she was good at reading expressions.

‘’There is trouble in Arrakis, Rabban is messing up the whole spice production,’’ Baron began, ‘’you have to take his place and deal with Fremen rebels.’’ He was newlywed and Baron didn’t even hesitate to give him an onerous  mission ‘’Me and my wife shall get ready in an hour and-‘’ his speech was cut off, ‘’This matter only concerns you Feyd. Na-Baroness shall stay here and wait for your return. You have consummated the marriage, I’m sure when you come back you will hold your first born.’’

Y/N froze in her state. She was going to be here all alone, Feyd was refusing to look at her because if he did he would slice his uncle’s throat.

The walk back to their chambers was slow and quiet, their fingers brushed and left stingy sensation, when Feyd closed the door behind him the realization hit Y/N. According to Baron, Feyd was suppose to be gone for 9 months maybe more.. she turned to him and his expression broke her heart. He looked like that little boy she met years ago, alone and afraid. ‘’I don’t want to leave you.’’ He confessed which made her throat clench itself in agony, he looked away for a moment, contemplating something in his mind and he cursed under his breath and closed the distance between them, their lips met in passion.

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[slyandthefamilybook]

The Nine Houses texting styles

(I haven't included any characters from Nona the Ninth bc I Haven't Read It Yet)

Harrow: Starts every text with "Dear [name]," and ends with "Harrowhark Nonagesimus, Reverend Daughter of the Ninth House" like a forum signature

Gideon: Lots of keysmashes. Lots of typos. Uses txtspk liberally. Harrow spends most of their conversations correcting Gideon's grammar

Ortus: Responds every time with a video message, no matter what he's replying to. Hasn't yet figured out where the microphone on his phone is so the audio is always muffled

Judith: Will call you

Marta: Will call you on Judith's phone

Coronabeth: So many emojis. Will sometimes reply in just emojis. Ends every text with a 🌹 or "xoxo". Thoughts are broken up into multiple texts (e.g. "Oh don't" "worry about it" "it's fine")

Ianthe: Forgets to text you back for at least 12 hours every time. Screenshots every convo for drama. Refuses to save anyone's number and so always starts a convo with "who is this"

Naberius: Doesn't own a phone

Isaac: Replies exclusively in reaction images. Will not text first

Jeannemary: Will spend 20 minutes agonizing over the proper response, before finally deciding on "Sounds good"

Magnus: Will laugh out loud rather than sending "lol". Doesn't understand slang terms (will follow up a butt dial with "sorry didn't mean to booty call you)

Abigail: Uses way too many gifs, all from her favorite show that went off the air 20 years ago. Texts are signed "Sent from my iPhone"

Palamades: One word replies with periods. Frequently sends random videos (like sewage treatment techniques) with "thought this would interest you"

Camilla: Somehow has a meme for every situation. If she doesn't have one she'll make it herself with a shockingly quick turnaround.

Dulcinea: Sends one-word texts with no clarification. Criminally misuses emojis (e.g. "Movie? 🍆"). Will not clarify when asked

Protesilaus: Is dead. Hasn't figured out how to get a ghost phone yet

Silas: Sends selfies from way too low an angle with text overlayed like a Snapchat. Will spam you if you're a minute late

Colum: So many ellipses... Ends every text with them...

Mercymorn: Still has a flip-phone with a pre-paid plan. Gets mad when people send her multiple texts in a row because it costs her $0.15 to open each one

Gideon the First: Does not text. Will instead show up at your house asking you to explain yourself

Augustine: Over-relies on speech-to-text. Texts are full of "what no I said duck not duck you stupid machine no duck oh John damn it"

Cytherea: Waits for you to text first. Gets mad when you don't.

John: Long rambling voice notes where he frequently gets distracted, leaving minutes at a time of awkward silence

[deadboyquotes]

Crystal: There's been a lot of cursed energy in my life recently. it's time to cleanse with friendly compliments. Just respond to me saying something and I'll give you a compliment.

Edwin: Something.

Crystal: I cannot wait until the day the reverend finds you and drags you back into hell with his holy words of condemnation.