Feyd Rautha Harkonnen - Blog Posts

I'm going to be completely honest, Feyd looks like the girl from splice..

margot, trying to flirt: are you the big spoon or the little spoon? feyd-rautha: i'm a knife. his harpies, from across the room, in chorus: he's the little spoon

are there any dune fans in the audience tonight (doodles of questionable quality under cut)

no wonder feyd passed his gom jabbar, he's been like an animal in a trap his whole life he's probably used to it.

Feyd Rautha is a femboy by Harkonnen gender presentation standards. No I will not be elaborating.

I loved dune 2. Best movie I’ve seen in years, but the whole time all I could think of was the Sontarans from doctor who and the Harkonnens

Observe

Omg

Warning?: fluff to dark, thoughts of murder

Feyd loves to cuddle with you. He usually stays awake longer than you do so that he has more time to enjoy the moment. Especially when the nights are cold, he loves to hold you close to his warm body and stroke your soft skin with his fingertips. He loves your soft, relaxed sigh. That the brutal world is suspended for a moment, as if you two were the only living beings in the entire galaxy. Nothing and nobody could hurt you at this moment. He loves to run his nose over your hair. The scent of your shampoo and perfume makes him melt away.

And he would never say a word about it. He would never admit that he craves you. Greedy as fire for gasoline. He wouldn't say the three 'magic' words, his actions were to show you that he loved you. And if you didn't understand that, that would be your own problem. He could kill you here and now, you knew that. He knew that. It would be so easy for him to break your neck with a quick movement of his hand or slit your body open with your own swords. But he didn't do it. Not because he didn't want to. He would like to murder you almost every day. But he knew that he could no longer bite you. No more your sweet blood, no more your beautiful scent, no more listening to your calm breathing. Oh, how boring his life would be without yours in his hands…

Ok listen to me : FEYD DOING THIS TREND 🙏🏻😩

I'm gonna shift tn just to make him do this CAUSE MAN.. WHERE ARE YOU GOING WITH THAT PRETTY DARK TEETH WITHOUT MEEEEHEHSUAHAHAHA !?!? 🛐🛐🛐

LIKE COME RIGHT ON ME. I MEAN CAMARADERIE!!! 😳

IT HAS TO.

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

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

Bawling my eyes out 😭❤️‍🩹

#justice for Feyd!

#feydrautha

girldad!Feyd Headcanons

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MY (psychopath) CRUX

^᪲᪲᪲^᪲᪲᪲

@_.anna.savoia._ on TIKTOK

@_hllndxbale_ on IG

^᪲᪲᪲^᪲᪲᪲

Bride

Atreides!Reader x Feyd Rautha Harkonnen

____________________________________________

Chapter II

____________________________________________

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

Whispers of shocking news coursing around the keep.

“-married to a Harkonnen..-”

“..terrible, terrible news-”

“I heard that the young mistress..-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

But who?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Paul let go of you, holding onto your hand.

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

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

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

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

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

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

From which your home was hewn.

Caladan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mistrust.

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

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

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

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

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

“Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.”

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

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

“Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She stared back.

____________________________________________

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

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

You obeyed.

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

It was silly, truly.

“Aunt, where are you taking me?”

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

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

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

Don’t keep her waiting.

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

“Sit down.”

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

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

“Put your right hand in the box.”

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

“What’s in the box?”

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

“Pain.”

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

This test is very important…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Silence.”

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

Then just like that - it stopped.

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

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

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

“Pain by nerve induction.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

____________________________________________

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wished for a normal life.

____________________________________________

Bride

Atreides!Reader x Feyd Rautha Harkonnen

____________________________________________

Chapter I

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Blood. Blood everywhere. The torn curtains, the smell of decay. The only thing felt was heavy breathing. Inhale. Exhale.

A child’s breathing.

A window stood open, the morning breeze filtering through the blue curtains next to a grand bed. Splattered in blood .

The blood-

The mangled corpses. Necks ripped open, the dry blood encrusting their limbs. Matted hair. 

Knives held in both their hands.

A faint memory of doors slamming open, then the screaming started. 

Inhale. Exhale.

“Atreides!-”

“They’re dead!”

Hands grabbing all over, shaking, pulling. 

“Oh lord almighty, save us-”

Pulling away. Away from the cold corpses. Away from the smell of death.

“Y/n!”

Inhale. Exhale.

____________________________________________

“Y/n!”

You awoke with a sudden jolt, your hand instinctively going for the blade you kept hidden under your pillow.

“Y/n Atreides, should I be worried?”

You slumped back. It was just-

“I’m fine, Paul.”

He nodded in approval, flashing you a smile as he pulled back from next to you, mustering himself in a proud stance beside your bed at which you couldn’t help but snicker. This, however, did not go unnoticed.

“What, why are you laughing at me?” He asked with the most convincing tone and expression of hurt he could give.

“You look like an idiot, cousin. I’m not the empress, why are you standing like that?” Through giggles, you managed out, watching your cousin relax his stance and sit back down next to you.

A bird's chatter could be heard somewhere outside. You raised your head to look out the window that was directly behind your bed. A misty morning, as always.

Faint drumming of the usual Caladan rain provided a warm sense of comfort. Shaken a bit from your dream, the quiet sounds of nature provided a delicious calm.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?” You asked teasingly. Paul scoffed beside you, throwing himself back on the bed like a damsel in distress.

“Cousin, you wound me! Am I not allowed to visit my best friend in my own home?” he asked, craning his head to look at you as you sat up in bed, the covers slipping off your torso.

“Father sent me to fetch you. Says he has something to discuss with you."Adding on, turning over to lay on his stomach as you throw your legs off the edge on the opposite side of the bed.

“He says it’s important, has he told you anything these days?” You shook your head as you walked over to your closet, picking out a few simple things to wear.

“He did indeed seem a bit off yesterday night.” You added, as you recalled your uncle’s worry stricken face at dinner. It could have just been a bad day.

“You have to tell me what he says, apparently it’s ‘confidential’-” Paul was complaining when a knock sounded on the wooden doors of your room.

“Come in!” they opened to reveal one of your servants, and you smiled pleasantly to greet them.

“The Duke Leto wishes both you and the young master today at a meeting after breakfast, miss.” You nodded, thanking the servant that left as quickly as they came.

“Well now we’ll know exactly what’s going on.” You said grimly, turning to look at Paul who mirrored your expression.

____________________________________________

Laughing briskly, you dodged another piece of egg Paul tried flinging at you, despite his mother’s protests.

He groaned in annoyance, getting cut off as he got a piece of your salad square in the face.

Your fun was swiftly cut off however as Lady Jessica stood up-

“Behave, both of you.”

You felt your entire body going involuntarily numb, your fork being placed by your plate obediently. Paul did the same, only his eyes glinting with the echo of mischief.

“I’m sorry” you both murmured in unison and she sighed, waving you off. She seemed worried, highly unlikely for someone like her.

Blue beams of light fell on her age-worn yet still beautiful face from tall windows of the dining room. The wind rattled outside, swaying the evergreen trees beside your home.

“Get ready for the meeting. It’s a serious matter.” She said firmly, and both you and Paul understood the hidden dismissal. 

As you made your way to the sleeping quarters, you ran your hand along the walls. Your fingers gently scraping across the smooth grooves of stone. Your cousin seemed eerily quiet, even ticked off maybe.

“Since father wants us both there, we should probably dress seriously. I saw ships arriving before breakfast, all with the Atreides banner.”

He gave you a knowing look, and you nodded quietly. If so many Atreides are gathering, it indeed is an important matter. You opened the doors to your room, Paul following suit.

“I saw the Reverend Mother.” You said quietly, Paul’s head snapping in your direction. That must be why your aunt seemed so very worried. It was very odd that such a high-ranked Bene Gesserit should attend a house meeting.

You pulled out your dress robe, tossing a similar one to your cousin. Some trinkets flew out of it and clattered down the wooden floor of your room.

“You’re stealing my clothes now?” He grimaced, rolling his eyes as you gave him a quite rude sign with your hand. 

“Piss off. You always forget yours around the house.” It was true, at least. However responsible Paul is, the keep is enormous and one could easily lose a thing or two around. He turned around to allow you privacy as you both changed clothes.

You both got dressed in your identical military house uniforms, walking over to the council room. If you recall correctly, your uncle has never summoned you both to a council with the other Atreides representatives.

The large black doors were closed. You turned your head to see Paul watching you. You nodded, pushing the doors open as you both stepped inside.

Windows stretched along the gray walls, allowing blue tinted rays of pale sunlight to scatter through the room, illuminating in the damp, serene light that lay all over Caladan.

Faces turned to look at you from the giant table in the center of the room, guards poised by the far walls.

Almost everyone was already seated, so you and your cousin were shown to two seats right next to the Duke.

You noticed everyone was giving you glances, some of worry, and another emotion you couldn’t quite pin. Shame? Guilt? That was odd.

You felt a knot in your stomach. 

“Father sent me to fetch you. He said he has something to discuss with you.”

This was about you. This whole meeting must have been about you. Mind racing, you tried to think of anything you could have done wrong, any mistake you could have made.

It was silly of course, why would so many Atreides gather if you had made some mistake? You were overthinking.

You sat quietly, watching your hands shake on the giant iron table before you. 

Paul must have noticed the raging mix of emotions you were experiencing, as you felt his hand find yours, holding it firmly. Grounding you. 

 A few more people entered the room, more distant relatives, uncles, military generals and so on.

Your uncle sighed, nodding towards the gathered bunch.

“Thank you for coming from all sides of Caladan. I am sorry to disturb you from your homes, but we must discuss a matter of importance.”

Your relatives all smiled and waved dismissively, some eyes still on you. A lump dropped to the pits of your stomach as you recognized one of them as the Reverend Mother’s. Why was the old crone staring at you?

The dark light Caladan’s sun emitted through the layers of clouds and rain that always found their way around their planet seemed to light the room in a quite eerie dark setting.

No longer did the sunlight provide you comfort. Not when the Reverend Mother was looking straight at your soul.

A faint squeeze of your hand was enough proof Paul too, recognized the stare she was giving you.

“It has come to my attention, from the Reverend Mother Gaius Hellen Mohiam, that the parents of my niece, Y/n-”

Oh no. No no no no. All eyes were on you, giving you the attention you did not want. You felt nausea creeping up on you. Large gatherings were never your thing.

Trying to muster yourself, you repeated the litany against fear again and again in your mind.

"I must not fear.

Fear is the mind-killer.”

“-have proclaimed in their death notes that they wish their daughter be married be married into house Harkonnen”

Thunder cracked somewhere outside, rain starting to pour down the wide windows encasing the room. 

Now you truly felt like vomiting. Harkonnen? Were they crazy? You knew your parents were quite frenzied prior to their…death, but this? It was utter madness.

Harkonnens. Animals. The most brutal of the galaxy.

You hear Paul yell in disapproval, blurry words that seem to stir no emotion in your mind. Harkonnen. You averted your gaze, but the Reverend Mother seemed to have slithered uncomfortably into your subconscious. Her eyes bore no emotion as she raised her hand.

It took a scarily short while for the Atreides to calm down, and let her say her bidding.

“Letha Atreides was ours. This is a sacred will she and her husband wrote, hence disobeying would be considered treason against all Bene Gesserit.”

More shouts of outrage from your cousin. She did not seem to pay any heed to his venomous words.

“I am aware of your disapproval of house Harkonnen. However, this was arranged a long time ago. The Bene Gesserit have their own reasons for this pairing.”

She made it a point to look at your aunt, who was turning as white as the sea foam that lay scattered over the rocks of your home planet.

“Is this because of my mistake?” she asked quietly, yet the old woman replied nothing, focusing on your uncle instead.

“What say you, Duke Atreides?”

You turned your head toward your uncle that remained as stoic as physically possible. His eyes screamed fury, horror, shame.

“I have raised my niece as my own. My opinions on this are all that you can predict. It shall not happen. I did not raise a daughter for her to be given out like cattle to those bastards.” Slamming his hand on the table with each punctuated word. Clearly displaying unprofessionalism, yet nobody seemed to mind.

The feeling of your throat closing up. So tight, only a whistle of air could pass through it. You clutched Paul’s hand like your life depended on it.

“It is not only your decision to make, Duke. It was arranged long ago. But if it entertains you, we shall put it to a vote.” The witch said matter-of-factly, as if dismissing your uncle in his own home. The dread squeezed your lungs, adrenaline rushing through your body as you struggled to maintain a seemingly indifferent composure.

“All in favor of young miss Y/n Atreides to not be wed, raise your right hand.” Paul's hand let go of yours for a brief period, flying up with speed and feverence you could never predict he possessed.

Uncle raised his hand, the Atreides seal ring gleaming in the room. 

Then your aunt’s hand joined his. 

A few more members that weren’t Atreides by blood also raised their hands in protest. Thufir Hawat, the family mentat. Gurney Halleck, weapons master and Paul’s personal trainer. Duncan Idaho, best warrior on this side of the universe and one of your and Paul’s best friends.

Your heart dropped to your feet as only a few more of your relatives weakly raised theirs. What was going on?

Everyone else avoided your gaze. Guilt. Shame. Embarrassment. Regret.

“It is decided then. We shall send a message to Geidi Prime immediately. Young Miss Atreides will meet her husband-to-be in one to two weeks' notice, depending on who is chosen.”

You were about to be handed out to a Harkonnen beast.

Harkonnen.

____________________________________________

“This is outrageous! It cannot happen, I shall not allow it!”

Paul raged in your room, pacing around angrily as you sat limply on your bed. Thoughts raced around your mind. A strategy must be conceived. Fast.

Harkonnen.

“I’ll kill the bastard, and that witch! How dare she? I’ll hunt down your parents in hell and kill them again. Horrendous! This is a crime!”

He turned to look at you, his outrage changing to a sympathetic look as he slowly sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into an embrace.

You returned it unwillingly.

“No Harkonnen will set foot on this damn planet. No beast like that shall ever touch my sister. I’ll gut the first fat animal that thinks he has the right to you!” He snarled, spitting out the words like venom.

“I can only hope they don’t choose Rabban.” You said quietly, Paul shuddering from the mere mention of his name.

Glossu Rabban, the beast. The most ruthless killer Geidi Prime ever spat out from its hellish grounds. A tyranin, sadistic beyond measure. Oldest nephew and heir to the throne of the Baron.

You had heard stories - the horrible abuse women would endure that ended in them taking their own life. Or worse, him taking their life.

You prayed to whatever god, whatever deity you could remember that you didn’t end up with someone as beastly as him. 

Paul was shaking next to you. From frustration or fear, one couldn’t tell.

“I will not let anyone take you from your home. Our home. I’ll throttle that old crone myself-”

You placed a hand on his shoulder, laughing quietly. That was a view you’d like to see. Paul Atreides, strangling an old lady. A sight to behold.

Despite his fury, he gave you a half smile. You couldn’t believe it - in one or two weeks you’ll meet the man you’ll have to spend your life with.

God, what the hell were your parents thinking? More so, why did so few people complain about you being stolen after living on Caladan all your life? Why would such a small number protest? What did you do wrong?

A better question would be how to get out of this mess, but that could wait.

Paul held your hand firmly, lifting it up, looking into your eyes. “I will not let anyone harm you. You know that.” You smiled at his reassuring words.

It was true, your cousin never allowed anyone to get away with hurting you. Memories from your childhood, the two of you running around the keep like the kids you were, and you bumping your head on a piece of furniture.

You remembered that day vividly. Billowy curtains flowing serenely, the rock beneath you slippery from a recent cleaning. 

He made a show of screaming at it, then slapping it for ‘revenge’. Paul ended up crying beside you as now he was hurting too. Both of you got scolded and a decent slap to the wrist for such unmanly and unladylike actions.

Fun old times.

You laid back on your bed, staring at the stone ceiling. The faint sound of rain falling could be heard outside. Breathing.

Inhale. Exhale.

As the comforting weight of your cousin vanished as he got up to leave, you closed your eyes, hoping that the universe did not turn its back on you.

You felt your mind slam shut just like the doors of your room as Paul left.

____________________________________________