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sansaorgana · 25 days

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— THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE PART FOUR || PART FIVE || PART SIX PART SEVEN || PART EIGHT || PART NINE

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

SUMMARY — Muad'Dib's forces attack the palace during the imperial visit on Arrakis. The new Baroness Harkonnen must face her past and choose her future.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is Paul Atreides’ half-sister. A month ago (March 6th) I went to the cinema to watch Dune: Part Two and I stayed up until 3am to write the very first chapter of this fic despite having morning classes on the next day. 🙈 I couldn't have known back then what a journey this would be and how many lovely and amazing readers would be so engaged in this story! 💕 This is the final part – but I am willing to write additional one-shots with these characters in the future. Thank you everyone who suggested me the baby names. I went with the idea commented by @alexandrainlove since it made sense to me due to the fact I have already used the name before in this fic. I loved all your recommendations, though! 🥰 Also, I want to credit @houserautha for pointing out that the thick Harkonnen blood (as I have described it in this fic) would actually be an advantage in combat because it would make bleeding out to death more difficult. I know some of you might be disappointed or sad about some events in the last chapter – I decided to go with my original plan for it because, at the end of the day, I can't possibly please everyone anyway. I loved all your ideas and assumptions, though, they made me rethink my plans many times. Love you! 💗

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, violent behaviour, death, murder, childbirth

WORD COUNT — 12,780 (😳)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THROWN TO THE WOLVES (X)

You watched the imperial ships land through the window with anticipation and anxiety. They were huge and covered in imperial sigils, now covered with the sand and spice. The symbols of power and influence – a reminder of your whole existence being reduced to the subject and a servant.

Escorted by the guards, you walked down the corridors to greet the guests. Your husband stayed inside to call upon other leaders of the galaxy. Feyd feared that the Emperor had arrived on Arrakis to once again take it from the Harkonnens because of some whim. He wouldn’t let that happen, especially now when it was the first day of his rule as The Baron. Losing such an important planet on the beginning of his reign was a political suicide. But The Harkonnens were in possession of an imperial secret that the Emperor wouldn’t want anyone else to know – his troops had been used to kill the members of the House Atreides… your family. Having other galactic leaders knowing that would mean the end of the Emperor and Feyd-Rautha would not hesitate to threaten him if he was about to take Arrakis from you.

You had just found out that secret and pretended it had not bothered you at all when you walked down the corridor to go outside, accompanied by the guards, with your hand clasped on your abdomen and chin held up high. However, realising the Emperor’s true nature had given you some sort of fighting spirit.

You stood and awaited to face him – The Emperor. The man who was responsible for the death of your family. The next goal of your ambitious game…?

You watched the first men walk out of the imperial ship. The Sardaukar fanatic soldiers caused a shiver to go down your spine. Your few Harkonnen guards suddenly started to feel like little mice locked in a cage with a bunch of fat cats. You almost overlooked The Padishah Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV. He was older and weaker than you had expected and remembered from his visits on Caladan. At the sight of him, your mind filled with intrusive thoughts of how easy it would be to simply… get rid of him.

The Sardaukar soldier’s loud and powerful salute at their Emperor made you shake those thoughts off. Then you spotted two women leaving the ship as well and you started to feel sick when you noticed Bene Gesserit’s Reverend Mother dressed all in black with a veil covering her face.

But you’d recognise her everywhere. You remembered when Lady Jessica had walked you out of your birthday party after turning sixteen. She had taken you to a dark room where this very Reverend Mother had been waiting. Your humanity had been tested in the Gom Jabbar and never before nor after you had experienced such pain in your life. The Reverend Mother had looked at Lady Jessica and uttered out only three words to describe you.

Human… but weak.

You hadn’t gone back to the party. Instead, you had spent the rest of the night by your mother’s grave where your father had eventually found you.

You had been hoping to never see that woman ever again in your life. But here she was now, once again testing you on such a special day as the beginning of your reign.

The other woman was much younger. It was Princess Irulan, daughter of the Emperor. You looked deep into her eyes and she stared back, widening hers. Her dress looked like armour, too.

You had met her only once where you two were children. You had been playing together but she had been very upset at the fact that you had been holding the same title.

“I am not as important as you are, Irulan,” you had been trying to explain to her. “Duke’s daughter is called a Princess but our ranks are not equal. You are an Imperial Princess.”

“I should be the only Princess in the galaxy,” Irulan had pouted at you.

You approached the delegation and bowed down. Technically, you should be kneeling but the late Baron Harkonnen had taught you a few things before his pathetic end. One of them was to always remind the Emperor of the power the Harkonnens were holding. To treat him more as if he was an equal than a superior. You commanded an army bigger than him and your wealth was much more impressive.

“Your Imperial Highness,” you looked up at him and straightened your back. He was staring at you and furrowing his brows, most likely surprised that you were greeting him alone with only a few guards. “Your visit is an honour to us,” you added. “Sadly, we experienced a great loss last night as Muad’Dib’s forces assassinated our beloved late Baron Vladimir Harkonnen,” you faked a shiver of your voice. “Forgive the new Baron,my husband, for not coming out with me to greet you, Your Imperial Highness. He is very busy with his new duties and obligations,” you explained.

The Reverend Mother leaned into the Emperor's ear and whispered something to him. You didn’t like that at all. But he only nodded and raised a hand at his guards to keep following him as he approached you slowly.

“I am very sorry to hear about your loss, Baroness Harkonnen, Duchess Atreides,” he addressed you elegantly and you bowed down again. Once he joined you, you began to walk side by side. His daughter and the Bene Gesserit followed very closely.

“Thank you, Your Imperial Highness,” you faked the sadness of your smile.

“The reason for my visit is the man you have mentioned… Muad’Dib,” he added and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well, I am aware that we have not caught him yet but now, after last night’s events… I am sure my husband will do everything in his power to avenge his uncle’s death. Muad’Dib’s days are numbered, Your Imperial Highness,” you tried to assure him. “He is nothing but a terrorist. Not only he slayed our late Baron but also some of the servants and most of the guards.”

“What a miracle that is that you and your husband were spared,” The Emperor pointed out and you could swear that there was a shadow of a smirk on his face.

“Prepare the throne room for The Emperor,” you looked at the servants approaching you and they nodded before running away as fast as possible with their heads held low. Then you turned around to look at The Emperor again. “Not lucky, no. We just weren’t the main target. But I am sure he will be back for us.”

“Forgive me, Baroness, I need to rest after the long journey,” The Emperor nodded at you and you bowed down.

“My servants will show you to your rooms as the throne room is being prepared for you to use it when you are rested, Your Imperial Highness,” you told him and nodded at another pair of servants who had just approached you. “Please, do forgive us for our lack of preparations and today’s chaos.”

“It is quite understandable after such a tragedy,” he assured you and walked away with his daughter and some of the soldiers. The rest of The Sardaukar stayed inside to monitor the corridors.

You turned around, ready to go back to your husband when you almost bumped into The Reverend Mother who had stayed behind you.

“Excuse me,” you faked a smile and tried to walk past her but she stood in your way once again. “What seems to be the problem?” You asked.

“The child inside you was not a part of our breeding program,” she stated casually. You felt your son moving as if he knew she was talking about him. You put your hand on your swollen womb protectively.

“I do not care about your breeding program, with all respect. I just want to give House Harkonnen a male heir,” you explained.

“The child is too powerful,” she told you but her words did not make you proud. They sounded too sinister to take it as a compliment.

“In what way?” You raised an eyebrow. “Am I not weak, Reverend Mother?”

“The Harkonnen medics have overdone themselves, Baroness. Your child does not only have all the best genetic material of your flesh and mind… but of all the Atreides and the Harkonnen families. He will be an unstoppable force if trained properly,” the woman whispered.

“I have already promised you a daughter… under certain conditions. I am not giving you a son,” you hissed.

“That is the point, Baroness. It is a shame your child is a son. But do keep going… If the Harkonnen medics are so advanced already, I cannot wait for the daughter you will give us,” you could spot a smile under the veil as your jaw clenched.

“If I were you, I would fear the day she is born,” you nodded at her and walked away. This time she allowed you to, but she kept staring at you until you disappeared behind the corner to go back to Feyd and tell him about the reason for The Emperor’s sudden visit.

“I have brought back the spice production to full efficiency, Your Imperial Highness,” Feyd explained himself as he was looking up at The Emperor sitting on the Arrakis’ throne with his daughter and The Reverend Mother standing beside him. He had been questioning your husband for the last fifteen minutes, as if it was really an interrogation which would decide whether he should keep governing Arrakis or not.

“Have you, Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen? Or has your late uncle done that?” The Emperor asked.

You were standing a step behind your husband, with your head kept low and your hands clasped on your abdomen, playing a dutiful wife. You knew that showing off your power and influence in front of The Emperor would only make Feyd look even weaker in his eyes.

“He was a great help but I was The Governor of Arrakis, with all respect,” Feyd answered, trying to hide his anger and frustration.

“And what about that idiot brother of yours?”

“Count Rabban has been dismissed. He’s on his way to Giedi Prime now, Your Imperial Highness,” Feyd nodded.

“His problems with the spice production were a result of the activity of the mysterious Muad’Dib… You still haven’t caught him either, have you, Baron Harkonnen?” The Emperor hummed to himself. “And last night he slaughtered your uncle, so I’ve been told… Tell me, what do you know about him?”

“He’s one of the Fremen, I assume. A leader of a terrorist group with great influence,” Feyd explained.

“And you, Baroness?” The Emperor addressed you and you looked up, too, surprised to be included. “I have been told of your influence in the House Harkonnen. Do not play a shy mouse with me.”

You smiled nervously at his words and bowed down slightly.

“I did not mean to play anything, Your Imperial Highness. Please, do forgive me for my sombre mood today after last night’s tragic events…” You batted your eyelashes at him and took a step forward. Now you were arm to arm with your husband. “I do not know more than The Baron about Muad’Dib,” you added as your heart pounded in your chest.

“Liar!” The Reverend Mother exclaimed suddenly and the whole room went silent. Feyd turned his head around to squint his eyes at you and with the corner of your own you spotted a hint of sense of betrayal upon his face.

“I am not a liar, Your Imperial Highness,” you shook your head. “I can not know for certain.”

“But you do have your assumptions,” The Reverend Mother pointed out and you swallowed thickly, feeling the weight of this secret on your shoulders.

“I am suspecting that Muad’Dib might be my brother… Prince Paul Atreides,” you whispered.

“The Atreides are all dead,” Feyd drawled through gritted teeth. “That is impossible.”

“So I thought,” you nodded. “But Paul has been haunting my dreams since the first night I came here. After some time I started to realise that they might not be dreams at all… More like visions. He has been communicating with me and it appears to me now that he might have survived in the desert after The Harkonnen invasion,” you avoided looking into anyone’s eyes.

“Why haven’t you told me about those visions?” Your husband’s voice was full of anger and betrayal and it surprised you how much you hated to make him feel this way. After all, you two were supposed to always play on the same team.

“Because I thought they hold no significance,” you finally dared to look into his eyes again. “What does it change who he truly is? And I could not be sure anyway.”

“Why would Paul Atreides communicate with Baroness Harkonnen?” Princess Irulan asked and you looked at her. “Do not misunderstand me, my Lady, but you are no Bene Gesserit. You hold no telepathic power like that.”

“He is not communicating with her,” The Reverend Mother pointed out. “He is communicating with her son. Because if Muad’Dib is as powerful as they say that he is now, then Baroness’ unborn child is the only person who can stop him.”

“Stop him how?” You asked with furrowed brows.

“Your child’s powers are not yet fully known but his presence might be interrupting Muad’Dib’s foreseeing abilities,” she explained.

“Foreseeing abilities?” The Emperor moved uncomfortably on the throne. “What exactly are we dealing with?!”

The timing of those words was not of the best kind as a loud booming sound from the outside reached your ears. Startled by it, you grabbed Feyd’s arm to squeeze it.

“My Lord! My Lady!” One of the engineers from the conference room ran inside, breathing heavily with his eyes widened, not even caring about The Emperor’s presence. “The Fremen… They are using The Atreides’ nuclear weapons to attack us and they are coming at us… Hundreds of them… Thousands… All united as they’re waving The Atreides flags.”

“Duchess Atreides, care to explain?” The Emperor asked you and you looked at him as if he was crazy.

“I’ve had nothing to do with that!” You denied. “I haven’t even been told where my father had hidden the Atreides nuclear weapons. If I had known, they’d be used against the Fremen long time ago, Your Imperial Highness,” you stated.

“It’s Muad’Dib,” The Reverend Mother said. “As he promised to come.”

“Wait, you had an agreement with him?” You asked her but she remained silent. “I thought you wanted him dead.”

“We were curious about him, Baroness,” The Emperor informed you. “We were supposed to have negotiations.”

Another booming sound made you shiver as the walls around you trembled.

“Negotiations, you say,” you drawled. “There you have them,” you pointed at the door. “We don’t have enough guards to protect us from this sort of attack, even with your Sardaukar soldiers, Your Imperial Highness! Most of them were slain last night.”

“And whose was the hand that slayed them?!” The Emperor yelled and you tried to keep your poker face on but you hated the feeling of fear creeping up on you. You thought you would never be afraid again in your life.

But now you were afraid. You were afraid of the Muad’Dib forces outside the palace and you were afraid of The Emperor sitting on a throne above you. He was an old and weak man but his power was still strong enough to cause you harm, especially with his fanatic soldiers surrounding you in the room.

“Fear not,” an odd, unfamiliar voice filled your brain. You furrowed your brow and looked around, trying to reach for the person trying to communicate with you. However, the voice was deep and raspy in a Harkonnen way. It reminded you of Feyd’s but his face looked pretty oblivious. “Fear not, mother,” the voice spoke again and you gasped.

The Emperor thought that you gasped because of his accusation, though.

“I do not care about The Harkonnen’s inside affairs,” he informed you angrily. “However, now we’re all paying the price of your last night’s selfish act!”

You didn’t know what to feel or do. You were overwhelmed with anxiety and the new discovery of your son’s voice being able to communicate with you. The booming sounds were becoming more and more frequent and the Harkonnen guards formed a circle around you and The Emperor alongside the Sardaukar soldiers.

You hid behind Feyd and dug your fingernails into his shoulder. Some part of you wished Muad’Dib was indeed Paul Atreides. Well, he had to be since they were using the Atreides nuclear weapons and flags. Your own brother would not kill you, would he?

He would understand that everything you had done, you had done to survive. If he had survived in that desert, he would understand everything.

The Emperor, Princess Irulan and The Reverend Mother walked down to stand beside you so the soldier’s circle around you could tighten.

“Can you hear me?” You thought.

“All the time,” your son answered and you smiled slightly to yourself.

It was a comforting thought to know that.

“Is that true that you’re able to stop Paul?” You asked inside your mind.

“I can try,” he answered.

“Your voice reminds me so much of your father’s,” you kept talking to him and distracting yourself from the sight of the doors being stormed as a horde of Fremen was trying to get inside the room with the sound of explosions in the distance.

“I am his son,” he answered very seriously and you almost chuckled at the fact he was clearly as rigid as Feyd – so logical and stiff even as an unborn baby.

“Yes, you are, my darling,” your hand, placed protectively on your swollen womb, squeezed the flesh through the dress’ fabric and that was when the doors opened with a loud bang sound and for a short while you thought you would die on Arrakis indeed, where your father’s bones already remained somewhere in the desert. Perhaps it was The Atreides’ fate to die on Arrakis.

But, after all, you were a Harkonnen.

You had not been attacked, though. Once your guards had been defeated, you were all taken to one of the rooms and locked there with the Fremen guards outside ensuring you would not escape. You were waiting for Muad’Dib’s forces to take over the whole palace as you were basically his captives.

Sitting on a chair with Feyd crouching down by your side, you were worried sick about Astra and Cara. You hoped that the Fremen wouldn’t hurt the servants but seeing their brutality and barbaric ways, you weren’t so sure about it. The Emperor was sitting, too, and staring at you with his eyes squinted.

“If that really is your brother, Duchess Atreides…” he started.

“Then what, Your Imperial Highness?” You snapped at him. When his dangerous guards were defeated, he was just an old, weak man and no threat to you. Feyd would slit his throat in half a second.

If he had a knife. But it had been taken away from him and surprisingly, he had been pretty obedient about it. You were grateful because you did not want to watch him getting slaughtered by a whole bunch of Fremen. He was a great warrior but every person had their limits of how many opponents they could take at the same time.

Your knife had not been taken, though. As a woman – especially pregnant – you hadn’t been searched properly and you hadn’t brought up the fact that you had a knife strapped to your hip under all the folds of your dress. Even Feyd didn’t know about it and you wanted it to remain this way. You hoped that you wouldn’t have to use it but you couldn’t be sure and it was better to keep it a secret.

“I can’t be responsible for his behaviour just because I am Duchess Atreides,” you reminded The Emperor.

“If Muad’Dib is really Paul Atreides then you are no Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen,” The Emperor reminded you. “His actions speak for your House then, not yours.”

“My House is Harkonnen,” you only barked at him and turned your face around to Feyd. You held his hand and he leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead, sensing your nervousness.

“What kind of fighter is your brother?” He asked you in a whisper but everyone could hear him.

“He was bad last time I saw him. Weak and pathetic in combat,” you answered. “But now he is different. He’s been training a lot.”

“How can you know that?” Princess Irulan looked at you, intrigued.

“If we believe my visions, I know he’s been training. If he is Muad’Dib, we don’t even have to believe my visions. Muad’Dib is the only name my brother-in-law fears and he’s the one called Beast Rabban,” you told her.

“He is an abomination,” The Reverend Mother spoke up, “in a different, worse way than the spawn inside you, Baroness Harkonnen.”

“What did you call my son?” Feyd’s muscles tensed.

“Calm down, Baron, she knows what I’m talking about,” the old woman was not bothered by making him angry. “Your son might be the only hope for us. He is interfering Muad’Dib’s foreseeing abilities.”

“I do not like the way you speak of it as if it’s all certain,” The Emperor joined. “If that is true, then I wish I had known about it sooner.”

“Father, there are some secrets that shall be kept even from you,” his daughter tried to calm him down.

“I disagree.”

“We shouldn’t fight now,” you interrupted them. “If we want to survive, we have to work together.”

“And what do you propose, Baroness?” The Emperor asked you with a contemptuous smirk. “He’s a madman, your brother.”

“So is my husband,” you raised your chin proudly. “And do not underestimate me, Your Imperial Highness, as I am the madman’s sister.”

The doors opened loudly and the Fremen warriors looked at all of you with visible contempt that made a shiver go down your body.

“Muad’Dib wishes to see you,” one of them barked at you.

Feyd helped you to stand up and you were taken to one of the rooms upstairs with a balcony and a beautiful view. The sun was setting slowly and giving the whole chamber an orange hue.

Gurney Halleck was the first man you recognised. He was standing in the middle of the room and waiting for you. You honestly hadn’t expected him to survive The Harkonnen invasion.

Seeing your father’s Warmaster broke something in you. It was as if the young Princess Atreides bloomed once again inside your rotten heart. After all, he had known you ever since you were a little girl.

“Gurney!” You smiled and ran up to him, not caring much about Feyd’s hands trying to stop you. The Fremen soldiers reached for their knives but Halleck stopped them with a small gesture of his hand.

“Princess!” He smiled at the sight of you as well and opened his arms. You had never been close – not as close as he had been with your brother at least – but seeing him brought back all the memories and for a short while you thought that finally, after all those months surrounded by the Harkonnens… you were saved.

You hugged Gurney with a wide smile and he fixed a loose hair strand falling rebelliously on your forehead.

“Look at you, Princess… So mature now, aren’t you?” He asked in a whisper. There was pain in his eyes and it brought tears to your own.

He was sorry for you. But he was sorry in a different way than all those late Baron’s guests who had been looking at you as if you were a little, innocent, naive prey. He was Gurney, your Gurney and he had known you. You were his Princess. He was sorry for you because he knew who you had been and who you were supposed to be under different circumstances. He had known your heart. Your whims, your moods, your smiles, your laughter, your dreams, your kindness and your humour. He had known all of you.

And perhaps all this time you had been wanting for someone to be sorry for you. You didn’t want to be admired for your strength and ability to survive, for your cunning mind and your schemes. You just wanted someone to admit that a great pain had been inflicted upon you and it was unfair to happen to you and brought you nothing but suffering.

Before you could open your mouth and answer him, the doors opened and you gasped at the sight of Muad’Dib followed by the Bene Gesserit sisters.

You would recognise his silhouette and his walk everywhere. Your brother, Paul Atreides – it was really him.

Perhaps the shock was not as big as it would be because of the dreams you two had been sharing for the past few weeks.

But was it really your brother…? His hair was longer and curly now, no longer neatly combed, his eyes were blue from the spice and the way he wore his stillsuit felt nearly as if it was his second skin. You had never seen him so angry and confident, so ready to fight and so bloodthirsty.

The Bene Gesserit surrounded their most important one – sitting on a chair with her face covered in tattoos and sheer veils. She looked familiar to you, you thought, and then she laid her own eyes on you – blue from the spice – and you realised it was Lady Jessica.

Throughout the past few months, both of you seemed to significantly rise in power.

“Brother…!” You ran up to him, instinctively, despite everything that was telling you not to trust the man in front of you – he was not your brother, he was a shell of Paul Atreides; filled with hate and anger and a newly discovered hunger for power.

Perhaps you two had more in common now.

“Sister,” he greeted you with a nod of his head and you froze in your place as you were about to give him a hug but he visibly did not want it.

A long, awkward silence occurred between everyone gathered in the room. You tried to keep your chin held up but your head felt heavy at that moment as you realised that there was no home and no family to go back to.

You were not about to be saved by a long lost family. There was nothing to save you from. Giedi Prime was your home and Feyd-Rautha was your family.

Paul looked down with contempt as his eyes fixed on your abdomen. He was visibly uncomfortable with the presence of your son. He had to sense his abilities interfering with his own.

“I’ve been informed that apparently, last night, I have slain my grandfather,” he smirked.

“Your grandfather?” You asked, surprised, and then you laid your eyes on Lady Jessica.

Perhaps that was why you fitted so well with The Harkonnens. You had been apparently raised by one of them.

There were actually many things you wanted to ask her. Why had she taught you how to be able to fight The Voice? Why had she been preparing you for things you were clearly not destined to become? And – most importantly – had she ever had any love for you in her heart?

“I do not mind such accusations,” Paul told you and reached out his hand to caress your cheek. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Feyd’s muscles tensing. Your brother’s touch was surprisingly gentle but it did not feel like Paul at all. And your son was kicking your ribs in a painful way for as long as his uncle’s touch lingered upon your skin. “I have missed you, sister. You never replied to any of my letters.”

“I was not given any letters,” you told him.

“I see,” Paul looked down again, this time he focused on The Atreides signet ring on your pinky finger. “Kneel down,” he ordered and you furrowed your brows.

“Excuse me?”

“Kneel down, Baroness Harkonnen and I shall spare your life,” he expanded his thought. “I feel sentimental today,” he added. “You can live, however your husband and the spawn inside you cannot.”

You felt as if he had just spit in your face. That was more offensive than hurtful and more angering than saddening.

“You’re insane,” you took a step back. “How dare you speak to me in such a manner, Paul Atreides? You’re a Fremen savage terrorist now. I am The Duchess of The House Atreides, The Baroness of The House Harkonnen and I will not kneel down in front of you,” you stated proudly.

“I am The Duke Atreides!” He yelled as you took a few more steps back. “I am the son of Duke Leto Atreides and you are nothing but a spoiled Princess that was thrown out and disposed of to die amongst The Harkonnens!” He reminded you harshly.

“There are ships appearing above the planet,” one of the Fremen interrupted you as he informed your brother. He was staring at a tracking device in his hand. “They are leaders of the Great Houses. Someone had to call upon them earlier.”

“That person has done me a great favour,” Paul smirked mischievously. “I am going to inform them about what you have done to my father, Your Imperial Highness,” he addressed The Emperor with contempt. “And by defeating you, I will take your daughter as my wife and reign as The new Emperor of The House Atreides.”

“Please, don’t! My father is old and weak! You can’t fight him!” Princess Irulan stood in front of her father to cover him with her own body.

“Such a fight will take no place,” you clenched your jaw. “He has no right to speak in the name of The House Atreides. I am The Duchess of it and he’s just a Fremen terrorist!”

“Perhaps you haven’t heard me right, dear sister…” Paul started.

“I have heard you perfectly well, brother,” you turned around to face him with raised eyebrows.

“Then you know that I am The Duke,” he squinted his eyes at you.

“I will not give up such a title easily,” you raised your head even higher as you straightened yourself. “I shall challenge you to a duel, brother.”

“Challenge to a duel? Me?” Paul snorted at you. “You cannot wield a blade sister.”

“I am the blade of my Baroness,” Feyd’s raspy voice interrupted you as everyone looked at him.

He nodded at you and you nodded back, approaching him to put a hand on his chest.

“Do not disappoint me, Feyd,” you whispered. “Make me proud like you always do.”

You hoped he was aware of the weight of the responsibility placed upon his shoulders right now. It was not a simple duel with Paul Atreides caused by his wife’s whim to keep some title. It was a duel about the future of his House, a duel about his child’s life… Perhaps a duel about the future of the whole galaxy.

And you hated that on that day you’d either lose a husband or a brother. Losing your husband would be much worse – you couldn’t imagine your life without Feyd now and what you’d end up like without his protection. On the other hand, seeing Paul die – even changed like that – would bring you no pleasure.

“Give my husband his blade back,” you barked at the Fremen guards as you stood next to Princess Irulan and watched the guard hesitantly handing Feyd his knife.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Baroness,” Princess Irulan hissed at you.

“Would you rather get on your knees and beg him, Princess?” You asked her.

“For my father’s life, I would.”

“Well, that is not a tradition of The House Harkonnen to beg on our knees,” you explained.

No one had to know how pathetic the late Baron had been in his last moments. Or how easy it was to humiliate Count Glossu Rabban.

“Have faith, mother,” your son’s voice brought you great comfort as Feyd and Paul stood facing each other. Hot Arrakis' sun was setting slowly behind them; its light was making them both look more like nothing but dark silhouettes.

“It’s nice to meet you, cousin,” Paul greeted your husband.

“Cousin? Is that so?” Feyd looked amused.

“Please, save your father. Do not let your uncle have any advantage. Let your father have a fair fight,” you pleaded to the baby inside you.

You had to be very desperate to count on the unborn child to save you, you realised.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul raised his blade to perform the traditional Harkonnen gesture.

It annoyed you how he displayed his Harkonnen heritage as if he was more of it than you were. He might have had their blood but he was no Harkonnen. Perhaps that was what you had always felt towards your brother above anything else – annoyance.

He was simply annoying in a way he was nothing special and yet your father favoured him because he was a boy and a son of a woman your father loved. It was annoying that he had a mother and you did not. That he would inherit the title you could only dream of. That he was following you around like a lost puppy, pretending that you two were normal, loving siblings. You loved him but the annoyance was often stronger. And now the love was barely there.

Your brother had died in that desert. Muad’Dib was not your brother.

Just like Baroness Harkonnen was not his sister.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd smirked at Paul as he repeated the Harkonnen gesture and the duel began.

The whole room went completely silent. The only sounds were the ones of the fight – the music of the crossing knives and occasional grunts. Amongst the Fremen women, two watched the most curiously. One of them was naturally Lady Jessica, meanwhile the other one was a young woman whose blue eyes were following Paul’s every move.

Feyd noticed her, too, as he pointed at her with a smirk.

“Your pet?” He asked Paul.

Your brother did not answer and attacked but you had your eyes glued on the Fremen woman. She would possibly cause trouble in case of Paul’s death, so you wanted to remember her face.

You did not like the way Paul seemed to fight as good as your husband. You were aware his skills had improved but nothing could prepare you for the sight of him blocking nearly every blow and successfully performing his own. The way these two skillful warriors fought reminded you more of some sort of sophisticated dance than a common fight. And if this duel was not about your future and your life, you’d love to watch it and admire it.

Princess Irulan was as scared as you were. She held your hand and you squeezed it to give her comfort.

As women you could only watch and hope for the men to spare you. In times like that, you hated to be a woman. No matter how much power and influence you were holding, in critical moments like this, you were only an observer of the grand spectacle of life.

A soft gasp left your mouth at the sight of your brother attacking Feyd with so much ferocity that your husband stumbled for a moment and when he raised his head again, you spotted fresh blood dripping from his nose all over his chin. He smirked, of course, since pain was bringing him pleasure. However, his pain was bringing no pleasure to you.

The duel progressed in a more aggressive manner. The foreplay was long gone now as two opponents were growing more and more frustrated with each other. It was getting less sophisticated and more messy. You tried to follow the movements closely but sometimes you missed half of them because of their speed.

Princess Irulan’s loud wheeze made you realise that Paul’s blade found a thin gap in Feyd’s stillsuit as his blade cut deep into your husband’s flesh right below his rib. Your eyes widened at the sight and your heart sank so deep in your chest that you forgot to breathe to the point of dizziness.

Paul had a smirk on his face when he turned around to face you as Feyd dropped his blade and stumbled behind him. You stood there, petrified as the reality around you seemed to slow down.

You felt more like an animal than a human being at that moment – your head was empty, you were driven by nothing but instincts.

Feyd fell down to his knees as Paul began walking towards you, limping slightly. Your free hand covered your womb as your other hand squeezed Irulan’s hand so tight you nearly crashed it. You tried to keep your eyes on Paul, you wanted to observe his moves to make sure you’d be able to somehow defend yourself. But you couldn’t. You kept staring at your husband and you noticed his struggle to get the blade out of his body. You couldn’t understand why he was trying to do that since a skilled and experienced fighter like him had known perfectly well it was never a good idea.

On shaky legs but with all the force, bleeding from his fresh wound, Feyd rose up and attacked Paul yet again, accompanied by Lady Jessica’s scream that made you shiver.

Your brother turned around, surprised to see Feyd back on his feet again – desperate act of a wounded, dying animal, ready to sacrifice everything to win the final battle. Feyd pushed the blade in between the gaps of Paul’s stillsuit and twisted the knife with a psychotic smile before they both fell to the ground.

After a short while of silence with the waves of shock going through your body, you screamed and ran up to Feyd. Lady Jessica stood up and ran up to her son. Everyone watched with widened eyes the two feral women kneeling down arm to arm, holding the wounded men in their arms.

Feyd chuckled at the sight of you and coughed up as you put your hands on his wound. The Harkonnen blood was thicker, which was making bleeding out to death a more difficult process but you could see his eyes getting hazy anyway.

You felt the tears streaming down your face as you caressed his cheek and he raised his hand weakly to put it on your womb.

“No!” Lady Jessica’s scream was animalistic. You turned your head around and saw her face winced in so much pain and anger that she no longer seemed human. You took a short glance down and noticed that life had completely left your brother’s body by now. It stinged your heart, too, but you knew that it meant only one thing – Feyd had won. You were The Duchess Atreides now. “He’s dead!” Lady Jessica yelled at you.

You were a mother now, too. You couldn’t imagine the depth of her pain and loss. Her only son – dead in her arms. Your brother.

Her hand reached out for the blade stuck in Paul’s guts. The same blade that had wounded your husband before. Now she wanted to slay Feyd with it to make sure he would die, too.

“Mother,” your son warned you and driven by a pure instinct you swiftly grabbed the short knife attached to the armour piece on your hip beneath all the folds of your dress. Without thinking you stabbed her before she was able to take the blade out of her son’s dead body.

Lady Jessica’s blue eyes widened as she looked deep into yours and you sobbed.

“Forgive me,” you whispered, your hand shaking as you had just committed your very first direct murder.

You would never find out all the things you wanted to ask her. Sometimes even the biggest questions remained unanswered. Perhaps it was for the best.

And Lady Jessica had to understand that what you had done was caused by your need to protect your family. She had been one of those people sending you to the Harkonnens. She couldn’t be surprised now to see you had become one of them. You had to protect them.

Her body fell down on top of Paul’s and all the Fremen started to look around uncomfortably. You did not care, you focused on your husband again. His eyelids were getting heavy but he was still smiling.

“Can somebody help?!” You asked, looking around. “Please,” you begged Gurney.

“Stilgar,” he looked at one of the Fremen who looked like he was important and most likely the new leader after Muad’Dib’s death. “Bring here those servants we are holding captive,” he told him.

The man called Stilgar nodded unsurely and two Fremen guards left the room in a hurry.

“Please, don’t die,” you whispered to Feyd, cradling his head and putting it on your lap delicately. “Please, don’t leave me now.”

“I’ve made you proud, my Lady?” He asked in a weak whisper.

“Oh, you’ve made me the proudest,” you smiled through the tears. “But you can’t leave us now… None of this matters without you, my darling,” you wiped the blood off of his chin with your sleeve but it only smeared some more. “I love you, please…”

You expected to give up completely one day and finally confess your feelings but you had never expected it would be on the day of his death.

Feyd chuckled as his hand weakly slid down your womb as he no longer had any strength to keep it there.

“I love you, too, pet,” his whisper was inaudible but you heard him right and sobbed some more, watching his eyes close.

“No! No, no, no…” You lowered yourself down and pressed your forehead to his, covering his face with your tears.

The doors opened and the Harkonnen medic entered the room in a hurry, accompanied by a few spared servants with Astra and Cara among them. Your poor girls were terrified and trembling. It was a great relief to see them but in a moment like this, you couldn’t care much about anything but your husband.

What was the point of defeating Paul? What was the point of anything without Feyd by your side?

The medic hurried to your side and knelt down next to Feyd’s body. He examined it quickly and furrowed his brows.

“My Lady, he’s still alive,” he informed you and you looked up at him.

“Wh-what?”

“The body functions are still there, Baroness. He lost consciousness due to the blood loss but maybe… Maybe I can still save The Baron’s life,” he swallowed thickly.

“What are you waiting for then?!” You yelled at him and he nodded, beckoning over a few male servants to help him carry Feyd’s body to the medical wing of the palace.

You stood up clumsily and watched them walk out. You wanted to follow them and forget about anything else but you were aware that at a moment like this you could not leave any case unfinished.

You faced The Emperor. He looked as if he was about to have a heart attack, his face paler than usual and his eyes widened. His shaking hand was holding Irulan’s one.

“I, Duchess (Y/N) of The House Atreides, Baroness of The House Harkonnen, pledge my allegiance to The Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV,” you kneeled down and bowed your head.

His time would come, too, of that you were sure. But not now. Not yet.

“May your service be accepted, Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen,” he nodded at you and stood up once again.

You turned around at the Fremen, looking at the man named Stilgar who had been watching you very closely ever since Paul’s death.

“You may attack us but all the ships above us with the galactic leaders will destroy your homeworld in revenge,” you informed him. “Or you might cooperate with me. I will give you what my father has never given you and what he would never give you,” you added. “I shall join my husband now but I want you to stay here and negotiate with you.”

Stilgar looked around to see the faces of his fellow Fremen brothers and sisters. You knew that the reason they had not yet attacked you despite all your guards being slain was respect. You were the one to win the duel and it was your husband who slain their Muad’Dib. You were the one to slay their Reverend Mother.

Some of the fellow Fremen were shaking their heads hesitantly, not trusting you. But some of them were nodding.

“We can divide the planet for spice production and for Fremen to live in. We do not harvest spice in the south of Arrakis because it is inhabitable to us,” you explained. “So if we give the south to you, we will not lose any production. And you will have your own territory to live in. I am going to help you to turn the south of Arrakis into a more friendly place as much as possible. The Harkonnen science is well developed, I am sure they will find a way to make trees grow again there. And I offer you to have a representative during the most important councils about Arrakis’ fate in the future. That would be you, I assume?” You tried to explain calmly. “I do not want you as enemies. Arrakis is big and spacious enough for all of us.”

The long silence occurred.

“What if I was wrong? What if she is Lisan Al Gaib?” Stilgar asked and some of the Fremen rolled their eyes angrily.

“I am no Lisan Al Gaib,” you told him, “I am Duchess Atreides, Baroness Harkonnen. That is how you shall address me.”

“The leaders of The Great Houses are getting impatient,” one of the Fremen said as he was monitoring the tracking device in his hand.

“Tell them to come down,” you looked at him. “They shall witness our new deal.”

Hesitantly, Stilgar nodded at the man.

“Now, do excuse me, I should go to my husband,” you nodded your head at him and then at The Emperor.

You were about to walk out, when Gurney spoke up.

“What about Paul’s body? Lady Jessica’s?”

“Do you know where my father’s remains are?” You asked him.

“I have my assumptions,” he answered. There was no kindness nor love in his eyes anymore when he was looking at you. There was hurt, betrayal and anger. None of it mattered to you anymore.

“Find it then and send all of them back to Caladan. Lay them down next to my mother,” you told him. “I do not want Arrakis to be known for being a place where the Atreides rot.”

“My Lady,” he nodded.

With your eyes you found the Fremen woman who most likely had been Paul’s lover. She was now kneeling to his body and stroking his cheeks.

“You,” you addressed her as she looked up angrily. She could kill you with her eyes only if she could. “What is your name?”

“Chani,” she answered proudly.

“Was Muad’Dib your lover?”

She hesitated before answering.

“Yes.”

“Change of plans, then,” you looked at Gurney. “Lady Jessica and my father shall go back to Caladan. Let this woman bury Muad’Dib as she wishes.”

“My Lady,” he bowed.

“Let it be known that Baroness Harkonnen can get a little sentimental,” you smirked at Chani before walking out of the room.

Your body was so full of adrenaline that you felt as if you were in a dream.

Feyd was unconscious for three days now and most of them you were spending in the medical wing, holding his hand. In the meantime you were working on a deal with Stilgar. The Emperor had left Arrakis as soon as possible but not without thanking you for your loyalty and support that he had promised not to forget.

With fake kindness you assured him of your sincerity as if you hadn’t been already planning how to get rid of him next. Seeing his weakness and how easily your brother would take his title, if not stopped by your husband, made your own hunger for power even greater.

The leaders of The Great Houses hadn’t stayed for long but they borrowed you servants and guards for until your own would come from Giedi Prime, sent by Count Glossu Rabban.

So much was happening and so many things there were to process but your mind was in a haze. All you could truly focus on was Feyd. At first you wanted to give up completely but it was your son who decided to motivate you.

“You have to be strong now, mother. Do it for me,” he had pleaded.

And he had been right. You had to make all the arrangements to ensure the position of the House Harkonnen for your heir.

Holding Feyd’s cold hand and caressing his fingers, you watched his body functions on the monitor. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. Some part of you was glad he was getting all this rest. You just hoped he would eventually be alright.

Suddenly, you felt his cold slim fingers move slightly. You looked at his face and watched his eyelids flutter before opening slowly. He looked around, confused.

“Pet?” He only asked at the sight of you, confused, as you smiled widely and sobbed a few happy tears.

“Oh, Feyd!” You leaned in to place a soft kiss upon his lips. “Oh, my darling…”

“Shouldn’t I be dead now?”

“Not on my watch,” you caressed his cheeks. “You’ve been knocked out for three days, my Baron,” you told him. “Let me call a medic to examine you.”

You stood up and informed the guard behind the doors that Baron Harkonnen was awake and he nodded before walking away to call for the medic.

While you waited for him, you told Feyd about everything that had been happening for the past three days. He was only watching you closely and nodding his head.

“My uncle was right. You’re better suited to be The Baroness than I am to be The Baron,” he told you eventually.

“Don’t say that! You’d do the same,” you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“No, I would not. I would slay all the Fremen once I’d have an army here.”

“You would not because I would advise you otherwise,” you chuckled and then you took a deep breath in. “I can’t wait to go back home.”

“Home?” He furrowed his brows.

“Giedi Prime,” you answered like it was obvious. “I want our son to be born there.”

“We need to find someone worthy of being the Governor of Arrakis first. Someone loyal and not a complete idiot like my brother,” Feyd reminded you.

“I’ve already found one and sent him a letter,” you admitted, a little anxious about his reaction.

“Who?”

“Lord Kirill, the one who married one of my former maids. She bore him a son not so long ago. He will be loyal and I’ve read about his successful military campaigns in one of the books,” you answered.

“Lord Kirill is not a bad choice,” Feyd nodded. “We can allow him to try.”

“I’ve told that man, Stilgar, that he can write to me any time if anything happens. For some reason he seems to respect me greatly. Probably because I have slain their Reverend Mother,” you laughed nervously.

“And how do you feel about it?” Feyd asked, squinting his eyes at you as he slowly sat up on the bed.

You didn’t answer at first. Your smile dropped and you stared in the distance.

“I remember how your uncle told me that you had killed your mother. I could not understand it back then. It seemed to be the worst thing a person can do,” you admitted. “But I’ve realised that I have killed my mother twice. I killed my biological mother by being born and I killed Lady Jessica who has raised me. And guess what… The sun still rises in the morning. My blood still flows. As if nothing terrible happened at all. Strange,” you looked at him again.

“With time you just don’t feel anything anymore,” he assured you.

“She was with a child, the medic told me. Lady Jessica was as pregnant as I am. With a daughter. My sister,” you whispered.

“So, you slaughtered them both,” Feyd smirked. Of course it brought him some sadistic satisfaction.

“I have slaughtered the last member of The Atreides family except for me,” you told him. “This House dies with me so the House Harkonnen can thrive. This is the greatest sacrifice and I only hope it is going to pay off.”

“What do you mean?” He tilted his head.

“You shall give my son The Harkonnen Empire,” you stated but before he could answer, the medic entered the room with a smile.

“I’m so glad to see you awake, my Baron,” he approached your husband. “You must be starving, I’ve told the cooks to prepare your favourite steak.”

Feyd nodded at him.

“My Lady, your servant girls would like to see you,” the medic told you and you stood up.

“From now on, you shall address Astra and Cara as my maids,” you told him.

The title would not change much about their position but at least it was giving them some dignity. The medic’s eyes widened a little but he nodded.

“I will see you soon,” you leaned in to place a kiss upon Feyd’s forehead before walking out and going to your bedroom.

Astra and Cara were standing by the window, waiting for your arrival. When you entered the chamber, they both approached you excitedly.

“Is that true that the Baron is awake now, my Lady?” Astra asked.

“Yes, my darling, it is,” you nodded.

“Oh, what a relief!” Cara sighed.

They were terrified of Feyd but they knew that if he died, no one would allow you to be Baroness Harkonnen on your own. The Harkonnen lords would most likely start an uprising. No one would accept a woman in charge – especially an off-world woman. They would rather crown Count Glossu Rabban their next Baron and you’d be an outcast alongside your son. Without any family to go to. Meanwhile, your servants – now maids – would either be killed or enslaved again.

But that would not happen – not at all. And it was hard to believe that you really had survived and found a new home, new family, new purpose. Perhaps you fitted even better with them than you had ever had with The Atreides on Caladan. Perhaps it was making it easier to cope when you believed that.

Bittersweet was the taste of your victory. You still remembered your brother’s dead body laying on the floor. You remembered Lady Jessica’s widened eyes right after you stabbed her. They would haunt you forever but you knew they were inevitable to happen if you wanted your happy ending and your survival.

And you wanted them more than anything.

Coming back to Giedi Prime was making you a bit anxious. You weren’t sure what people’s reactions would be to Feyd and you being the new Baron and Baroness Harkonnen. Rabban was assuring you that the citizens were rather excited but you were mostly worried about the noble lords. Only the most stupid ones believed in the late Baron’s death being caused by Muad’Dib. But the stupid ones didn’t matter.

The official ceremony of you and your husband becoming the Baron and Baroness was planned for the day after your arrival. Surprisingly, Rabban who had been responsible for making arrangements, had done a splendid job. The whole Giedi Prime was decorated already when you looked at the city from the windows of your ship. He was doing his best to stay in Feyd’s favour.

“Do you wish to keep your old bedrooms, my Lord, my Lady?” One of the servants asked once you entered the Giedi Prime’s fortress. “We can prepare the late Baron’s chambers for you.”

“Is that the room with the bathtub?” You asked and Feyd nodded at you with a hint of disgust in his eyes. “We wish to keep our old ones, thank you,” you informed the servant. “But I do want to change some decor,” you added. “Some other time, though, now I’m exhausted,” you dismissed the bowing man.

“You still say thank you to the servants, even now when you’re The Baroness,” Feyd smirked at you as you two began walking down the corridor to reach the staircase.

It was a surprising feeling but you sighed out of relief as you passed all the huge black doors on your way. It truly felt like home.

“That is how I was raised. It’s not easy to change what we were taught as children,” you reminded him and he nodded.

Feyd walked you to your shared bedrooms since you could barely walk in your current state. You were about to give birth any day now and you noticed he didn’t like leaving you alone for long when you were in that state. He waited for Astra and Cara to join you before he eventually left to deal with some official duties as The Baron.

Your maids brought a celebration dress with them to show you and make the final fittings. It was so huge that it filled half of the bedroom space. Black and feathered with enough volume to hide your pregnancy.

“How do you feel, Baroness?” Astra asked as she fixed one of the feathers on the dress’ fabric and you were looking at yourself in the mirror.

“Like an Empress already,” you smirked to yourself.

Cara and Astra looked at each other significantly but they chose not to comment.

“Like an Empress of death,” you added. “I imagine The Harkonnen Empire to be a dark, cold and scary place. I can see snakes slithering down the black marble floors, following me wherever I go, willing to attack any enemy of mine,” you dreamt out loud.

In one of the Harkonnen books you had read about such creatures – genetically modified to be loyal pets to their owners and deadly attacking their enemies. You had been waiting to become The Baroness to ask the engineers for pets like these, too.

The celebration was supposed to start in the late afternoon but you were on your feet since early morning, dealing with official papers to sign and to get familiar with. There were off-world guests to greet – Princess Irulan amongst them, representing House Corrino and her father. He was still grateful for what you had done on Arrakis in a nearly exaggerated way. Perhaps he knew about your bloodthirsty ambitions blooming within you and he hoped to become your friend.

The Emperor himself being desperate for you to like him because of the power you were holding now. That was delicious in a way, you had to admit.

He was not the only one. The word had spread about what had happened on Arrakis. Feyd was known now as one of the greatest warriors in the galaxy who would sacrifice everything for The House Harkonnen. And you were known for being cunning, dignified and unhinged in a way you were able to murder a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother who had been your family member. The new Baron and Baroness Harkonnen were quickly becoming characters of scary stories people would tell their misbehaving children. Cold and bloodthirsty; unstoppable and inseparable force.

You couldn’t tell what moment of the ceremony was your favourite – when everyone was looking at you walking slowly and gasping at your dress or when the Harkonnen army saluted you and swore to shed blood for you, making you realise what kind of massive army you were truly commanding now. Perhaps it was the moment of making vows or putting on the Harkonnen insignia. Or maybe an unscripted, passionate and hungry kiss that Feyd gave you in front of everybody once you were announced officially The Baron and Baroness of The House Harkonnen. That kiss was a promise of more. He would give you so much more than this. And you would be by his side every step of the way.

You were his anchor and he was your blade. The whole galaxy knew that now.

The Giedi Prime was celebrating but you chose to go back to your chambers quite early. You were not pleased with missing the party but you were exhausted after a whole day of walking and standing. Astra and Cara helped you to change into your nightgown and they were in the process of brushing your hair softly when you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen.

“My Lady?” Cara asked, worryingly.

“It’s fine, just a contraction,” you smiled at her. They had been occasionally happening for a few days now.

“Are you sure, Baroness?” Astra looked at your face in the reflection of the mirror.

“Are we sure?” You asked your son in your head.

“It’s time, mother,” the familiar voice answered.

Your eyes widened as another contraction came and you grabbed the edge of your vanity table. The girls looked at each other, scared.

“Call for the medic and inform The Baron,” you told them and they nodded their heads.

Astra stayed with you while Cara recruited one of the guards in front of your doors to go with her and find Feyd and the medic. With Astra’s help you sat on the edge of your bed and squeezed her hand.

“I might die, Astra,” you told her and she shook her head, terrified. “Listen to me, my mother died giving birth and I am aware this might happen to me as well.”

“My Lady, no… I refuse to…” She started with a trembling voice.

“Astra, listen to me, it’s important,” you drawled through your teeth gritted out of pain. She closed her lips and looked at you with her big Harkonnen eyes. “If I die tonight, I want you and Cara to take care of my son, do you hear me?”

She nodded as tears started to form in the corner of her eyes.

“The medic has been informed. He knows about my wish and he told me you and Cara have been studying infant care intensely. Feyd knows he cannot hurt you nor Cara. You will be safe, do not worry about that. I ensured that,” you assured her.

“Th-thank you, my Lady…” Astra stuttered out.

“In return, I ask you to take care of my son. And to keep him away from the Bene Gesserit scheming. Please,” you pleaded.

“I promise. In Cara’s name, too,” Astra put her free hand on her heart and you broke a smile at her.

She was barely sixteen and you were placing such great responsibility upon her shoulders. You couldn’t deal with it differently, though. It was a cruel world you lived in and much worse things were being forced upon sixteen years old girls anyway.

You feared death. Especially now when you were about to give birth to your son and begin your reign. You had things to look for and your child might had not been conceived out of love but it was still wanted by you. You did not feel trapped in a loveless marriage like your mother had been. You actually wanted to give Feyd-Rautha a son. Many sons and many daughters; you wanted to be known for giving House Harkonnen many successful heirs. You wanted to be an important figure in their history books one day.

But as much as you feared death, you also knew that it was also a place where your mother was waiting for you, your father, your brother, Lady Jessica and your unborn sister. You liked to think that even now they’d still greet you with open arms. And if not, you’d just wait for Feyd patiently.

Your depressing stream of thought was interrupted by the black doors opening rapidly without knocking. It was the medic accompanied by Cara and Feyd. You had never seen your husband stressed before. Usually so stoic, he was on the verge of a breakdown.

“Prepare the bed for The Baroness,” the medic ordered Astra and Cara helped her with the duvets and towels.

Feyd helped you to stand up and he cupped your face in his cold and shivering hands.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“How do you think I feel?” You rolled your eyes and hissed out of pain as another contraction hit you. “Like shit.”

“You can do it, my pet. You’re the strongest woman I know,” he assured you and helped you to get in bed. The medic was preparing some injections already that were supposed to make the process go smoother and easier.

“Our technology allows the whole childbirth to be nearly painless,” he told you with a smile. “Of course only the richest can afford such shots.”

“Remember what I’ve told you before,” Feyd barked at him. He was standing beside your bed and squeezing your hand in his. Astra and Cara were standing on the other side with a bowl full of cold water and a towel to wipe your forehead when needed.

The medic nodded and you furrowed your brow. He injected the first shot and you winced, squeezing Feyd’s hand tighter.

“What is that arrangement between you two?” You asked but they did not answer. “I have a right to know if it is about me or my child!” You demanded.

The medic looked at your husband and after a short moment of hesitation, Feyd nodded at him.

“The Baron has made me promise to… To ensure you live, my Lady. Even if it means your son will not,” he explained.

“You’d sacrifice your heir?” Your eyes widened when you looked up at your husband. He crouched down and leaned in to kiss your temple and to whisper in your ear so the rest would not hear him properly.

“We can produce more heirs. And if we can’t, any whore can give me a son. But no one would ever replace you, my Baroness,” he told you.

“You can’t let our son die… No…” You nearly cried. “You don’t understand, Feyd. These past few weeks I have been talking to him every day. I already have a bond with him. And he saved your life on Arrakis… If someone has to die tonight, it’s going to be me,” you tried to convince him to change his mind but he only clenched his jaw and gave you an angry look before standing up again.

“So far, the baby is placed properly,” the medic assured you. “I do not think anyone is going to die tonight.”

The sunlight was already creeping in through the narrow windows of your bedroom. Exhausted, squeezing your husband’s hand, you finally made the final push. If the medic claimed that thanks to his injections the process had been nearly painless, you did not want to know what it would be like without the said injections.

But it was finally over and the loud cry of a newborn baby filled the whole room as you sighed with relief.

“Oh, he’s a big boy, my Lord, my Lady,” the medic smiled at you as he cradled the baby in his arms. “Strong and healthy,” he assured you and handed your son to Cara. Astra wiped your face with a towel and brushed the hair out of your face gently and you reached out weakly to hold your child. You were too exhausted to process the thought of having a son but when he was finally placed in your arms and stopped crying at the sight of you, you burst out in happy tears.

The boy had your eyes and soft, fluffy, thin baby hairs on his head. His skin colour was much paler than yours but not as white as his fathers.

“He looks more like me,” you thought out loud as Feyd chuckled, staring at the boy in your arms with his chin resting on your shoulder.

“His hair might start falling out once he’s getting older,” the medic informed you.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” you chuckled through your tears. “I’m still going to love him even when he’s bald.”

“My Lord, shall we inform the people of the birth of the na-baron?” The medic asked your husband.

“Immediately,” Feyd answered. You spotted pride and excitement in his voice even though he was trying to hide it.

“Do you have a name, my Lady?” The medic laid his eyes on you.

“I want to bring back the old Harkonnen tradition,” you stated. “The one about giving your first born son the name of the Wedding Games winner from his parents’ wedding,” you brought up the fun fact you had read in one of the books from the Harkonnen library. “But I would also like him to be named after his father just like my husband bears his grandfather’s name,” you added. “What about Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen?” You looked up at your husband, trying to read the reaction from his face.

“You can name him whatever you wish as long as it is not Vladimir,” he only said.

“Na-Baron Maxim-Feyd Harkonnen that is,” you nodded at the medic and he left your bedroom to announce the birth of the new heir.

“Girls, can you leave us alone for a moment?” You asked your maids and they bowed down before walking out quietly as well.

Once you were left alone in the room with your husband and your son, you moved slightly to the side, wincing out of pain.

“Come, join us?” You looked at Feyd and he nodded, hesitantly, before sitting up on the bed next to you. He put his arm around you and his eyes were not leaving your son even for a moment. “What do you think? Now, without anyone to witness?” You teased, knowing perfectly well there were things Feyd would never say or do with any kind of audience.

“I think he’s… beautiful,” he admitted and raised his finger to caress the boy’s cheek. “And I’m glad he was born in a world without my uncle in it.”

“And that’s because of you, my darling. You protected him,” you reminded. “Like you always will, yes?”

“He is my heir. Everything I do, I do for him. My legacy is for him to inherit,” Feyd answered and placed a kiss on your cheek.

You stayed like that for a while, in complete silence, looking at Maxim who was staring back at you with his wide eyes.

“Do you hear me?” You tried but there was no answer. However, the baby kicked his feet slightly when you spoke to him with your mind.

“You’re going to be a strong warrior, my darling. The most fearsome in the galaxy,” you promised him in a whisper. “The greatest pride of the House Harkonnen. Mummy will make sure of that.”

You heard the sound of fireworks going off in the distance, black splashes of ink-like gas scattered all over the morning sky. Giedi Prime had already found out about the birth of your son.

“They will want to see him,” you turned your head around to look at Feyd.

“They can wait,” he told you. “You rest.”

“No, I can do it. I want to show them,” you assured him and pecked his lips gently. “Tell Astra and Cara to come here and prepare me.”

He nodded and leaned in to place a kiss upon his son’s forehead before leaving the bedroom to find your maids. You thought you’d feed Maxim first but he was already falling asleep in your arms, so when your girls entered the chambers, you handed Astra your child delicately and she took him to the bathroom to bathe him. You needed a bath as well and Cara helped you with it, holding your hand as you were moving slowly on shaky legs.

Your dress was black and very simple – humble even. After all, you were not supposed to be the main attraction on that day. Your hair was done up and the only jewellery you were wearing was the rings of your houses. Maxim was put in traditional black clothes for the newborn Harkonnen babies and you waited for the noon, half asleep on your armchair, feeding your baby with the help of Astra and Cara. Your dress was pulled down but ready to zip back up any given moment.

Feyd entered the room but he unusually announced his arrival with a soft knock upon your doors. He was wearing his black leather uniform and froze at the sight of you feeding his son.

“Since when do you knock?” You looked up at him with a soft smile.

“I didn’t want to startle the baby,” he told you. “You’re feeding the child yourself?” He was visibly surprised.

“I will not let any Harkonnen woman feed my child. There is enough poison in him already,” you answered. “And it is good for creating a bond between the mother and her child anyway.”

“How long does he need? The people have already gathered and they want to see him,” Feyd approached you.

“It’s not noon yet.”

“They’re impatient, my Baroness,” he smirked and looked down at his child sucking on your breast. Maxim looked up at him and reached his tiny hand up.

You sighed at the sight of Feyd looking completely paralyzed. You moved one of your hands gently to grab your husband’s pointing finger and put it in your son’s hand. Maxim squeezed it tightly and you chuckled.

“He’s strong already,” Feyd noticed.

“Of course he is, he’s your son,” you nodded. “But it’s enough now, my boy, you’ll get more later, I promise,” you nodded at Cara. She took the child from you delicately as Astra wiped your breast and helped you to put the upper part of the dress back on. Maxim whined for a while but Cara successfully shushed him by carrying him in her arms.

Feyd helped you to stand up and he led you out of the bedroom with Astra and Cara following you closely. You approached the big glass doors leading to the balcony of the fortress. You could already hear the cheers of the gathered masses waiting to see the heir.

You took a deep breath in as Cara handed you Maxim and Feyd nodded at the guards to open the doors. Slowly and carefully you walked out into the black-and-white world. Thousands of nearly identical pale faces were waiting impatiently to see you and when you finally graced them with your smile and a wave of your hand, they cheered loudly, causing Maxim to startle and cry. The sound of his crying caused the crowd to go even wilder, though.

You handed your son to Feyd and he raised his arms to show off the crying boy to the cheering and saluting population of Giedi Prime. He held him up in the air for a while and then he carefully gave him back to you and joined your lips together in a hungry, passionate kiss. He cupped your face to hold it in place as he devoured you. All the cheers and your baby’s crying were suddenly nothing but a muffled sound. All that mattered was you and Feyd-Rautha, showing his loyalty and gratitude to his Baroness.

Scared and naive Princess Atreides who had come to Giedi Prime a year earlier, she hadn’t known how much she could endure and survive. How much she had been capable of. She couldn’t have known that this scary place was indeed her home and that terrifying man was the love of her life.

Perhaps for the first time in your life you felt sincerely and thoroughly respected and appreciated. You had a purpose and you had a hunger for more.

And although no one else could hear him in that noise, it still surprised you what your husband dared to say to you in public.

“I love you,” he breathed out after breaking the kiss, still holding your face steadily in his hands and staring deep into your eyes. “I will give you the world.”

You nodded at him with a soft smile.

“I love you, too, my Baron.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 2.0 — Hi, it's me again! 👋🏻 I want to explain a few choices that I didn't want to mention about before the chapter because it would spoil the events. At first, Reader's baby was supposed to be just a regular baby – strong warrior of course etc., but nothing extremely special. Some of you were calling him jokingly an antichrist, though and it gave me an idea. I decided that giving him special abilities would actually make it possible for Feyd-Rautha to win the duel with Paul. Otherwise, Paul would be able to kill him because he'd be able to foresee Feyd's moves like it happened in the movie. So, the whole theory that the baby is an antichrist was actually very helpful and made the plot of Feyd killing Paul more possible. 😈 Also, I decided to rewrite the scenes from the movie because whenever I am writing fics that happen in the movie scenes, the worst part is to actually describe the events on the screen and writing down everything actors are saying etc. I've always hated doing that so I decided to just be inspired by the events of the movie but go with my own version, especially that the presence of Paul's sister would obviously change the dynamic anyway. I know that some of you hoped Paul would live and have some sort of a deal with Feyd and his wife. I also liked the idea of arranging the marriage between Alia and their son. But as I said before – I decided to go with my original plan for this story. I hope I am forgiven. 😅

MASTERLIST

#dune imagine #dune fanfic #dune x reader #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #austin butler x reader #tttw #lilysfiction

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lovetwist · 1 month

Text

Veil of Deception (I)

SYNOPSIS: In a world where political alliances are forged in blood and treachery lurks around every corner, you find yourself thrust into marriage with Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen. Born to be his perfect mate, you grapple with the terrifying prospect of becoming entangled with a man known for his brutality, obsession, and madness. As your union unfolds, you navigate a landscape of deception and dark desires, struggling to find your footing in a marriage fraught with danger and uncertainty. Caught between duty and defiance, summon your strength and resilience to survive in a world where loyalty is a luxury and love is a dangerous game.

WARNINGS (R18+): mildly dub-con, smut, first time, weapons kink, mentions of violence, manipulations, genetic breeding, power play

Word Count: 3.5k

PART 2

Below the towering spires of obsidian and steel, against a backdrop of opulent extravagance that flaunted wealth and power, a tension hung heavy, pregnant with the promise of destiny.

As Lady Atreides, sole daughter of Leto Atreides, you stood poised on the precipice of a meeting that would shape the course of your future. Your heart seized with nerves as you awaited the arrival of your betrothed.

Since your 15th name day, you had known of your engagement to the na-Baron. It was an inescapable fate predetermined by the Bene Geserrit. Your mother, Lady Jessica, had gone against them by giving birth to Paul, a male heir for Leto. Two years later, she gave birth to you – a gift of compromise for both sides. In return, Lady Jessica and Leto achieved the familial harmony they wanted, through the sacrifice of their daughter.

Every year, the Harkonnens requested your portrait to be sent along with a lock of hair. In exchange, they sent House Atreides jewels, gold, silks, and spice; disguised bribes for the upkeep of such a fine lady. They had only sent a portrait of Feyd-Rautha once. It was taken during his coming-of-age ceremony, a lean young man dressed in black fighting leathers. You stared often at the picture, looking to find some clue that could reveal his character. His demeanor was unnaturally cold and collected, yet his dark eyes barely concealed a burning rage. You wondered if Feyd-Rautha poured over you pictures as you did his.

Years passed and the engagement felt more like a false formality than reality. Unlike other noble families, you never exchanged letters with Feyd-Rautha or even met as a courtesy. Having completed your Bene Geserrit training under your mother, you learned that such things did not matter when it came to pairings arranged by the Reverand Mother. You caught whispers of conversation between your mother and her Bene Geserrit sisters. There would be no chance of failure, this union would be perfect. You were genetically engineered to be his absolute mate. Attraction and physical compatibility was assured. Everything about you was designed to lure him in – your scent, your voice, your everything was to be his undoing from the moment he would lay eyes on you.

Yet the thought gave you no confidence as you stood here now in Giedi Prime. Sexual attraction differed greatly from love, he didn’t need emotions to breed you. Feyd-Rautha, the enigmatic scion of House Harkonnen, was a man followed by countless stories of brutality and wickedness. You heard that he laughed when Reverand Mother subjected him to the Gom Jabbar. He didn’t endure pain, he reveled in it.

Your palms grew clammy, breath becoming increasingly shallow as you pondered the dark fate that awaited you in the form of this formidable man. Would Feyd-Rautha be the embodiment of all the whispered sin that had reached your ears, or would he prove to be an enigma beyond your wildest imaginings? With each passing moment, the anticipation mounted, weaving a delicate web of uncertainty around your heart as your braced yourself to meet the man who held your destiny in his hands.

The grand doors of the chamber swung open with a regal flourish, your heart quickened its pace, echoing the rhythm of anticipation that thrummed through the air. Through the gray haze of incense, you beheld Feyd-Rautha, a vision of masculinity and charisma, whose presence seemed to command the very essence of the room. His eyes met yours across the expanse of the chamber, a charged moment filled with unspoken tension, as if the universe itself held its breath in anticipation of this meeting.

You were ensnared in a tempest of conflicting emotions, thoughts swirling like sand caught in a desert storm. You questioned your own composure, wondering if you could maintain the facade of confidence expected of a lady of House Atreides in the presence of the young Harkonnen and the terrifying Baron. Feyd-Rautha may be your future husband, but he was not required to provide you a good nor happy life. After all, why would he? You were the daughter of his family’s sworn enemy. He may have been bound in marriage to you by centuries of bloodline manipulation, but he maintained a free will.

Would his words falter, betraying the tumult and hatred raging within him? Or would he summon the grace and poise befitting his station, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface? Your apprehension mounted, a symphony of doubt and fear playing out in the recesses of your mind. Yet, amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a glimmer of determination flickered like a distant star on the horizon, urging you forward into the unknown with a quiet resolve born of necessity.

For in the labyrinthine dance of politics and power that defined their world, you knew that you could ill afford to falter now. With a steadying breath, you squared your shoulders and prepared to face your destiny, whatever form it may take in the guise of a madman husband.

Feyd-Rautha, with an air of effortless confidence, strode forward, his gaze a smoldering ember that ignited a spark within your soul. In that fleeting moment, as your paths converged amidst the darkness and mist of the surroundings, you felt a surge of something unfamiliar yet undeniable—an electric current that crackled between your bodies, binding your fates together inextricably.

Words eluded you as you struggled to articulate the wave of emotions that threatened to consume you. Yet, in the silence that stretched between you two, you found solace in the understanding that this meeting was but the first step on a journey fraught with uncertainty and possibility. He bowed without taking his eyes off you. In greeting, you extended a gloved hand, Feyd-Rautha grasped it with a firm sense of resolve. You knew that your lives were now intertwined in ways neither could fully comprehend nor stop.

And in that moment, amidst the hazy dream of your shared future, you glimpsed the faintest flicker of something akin to desire dance across his eyes. You noticed a dilation of his pupils as he laid a kiss on the back of your hand. Then, his grasp of you tightened and tightened. Your face contorted in pain as a crooked smirk appeared on his features.

In the dim light of the chamber, your eyes traced the contours of his cheekbones and the fullness of his lips, searching for traces of the young man you once memorized in a portrait. Yet, try as you might, only a beast stood before you in the guise of a gentleman. When he stood at his full height with his darkened leer, you held yourself back from cowering. His gaze was vicious, his smile vulgar with blackened teeth, and he exuded an air of savagery.

“How delightful it is to finally meet you, Lady Atreides.”

His deep, raspy voice caught you off guard. What a performer he could be! Long gone was the ethereal allure he displayed when first entering the room, now you could see him for what he was.

“Likewise, my Lord Feyd-Rautha.”

Uncertainty lingered like a specter in the room, casting a pall over the impending union that would bind you with him. You let your gaze lower onto the floor as your parents approached to talk with the Baron and na-Baron.

You could feel his intense gaze burning through your body even as you moved away to be with your brother. Could his eyes pierce through your facade, unraveling the intricacies of your soul like fine thread? Such questions gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, casting shadows on your will to remain strong.

As the evening progressed, the tension in the air thickened like a fog, suffocating any semblance of ease. Seated at the long banquet table surrounded by your family, the Harkonnens, and noble guests, you found yourself ensnared in a delicate dance of propriety and peril.

Across from you, Feyd-Rautha lounged in his seat, a predatory gleam in his eyes as he watched you with unabashed fascination. His demeanor was that of a predator toying with its prey, his every movement calculated to instill a sense of discomfort. Your family would leave to Arrakis after the wedding festivities, then you would be truly left alone with him. The precariousness of your position tugged at your heart.

As the meal commenced, the atmosphere grew increasingly tense, punctuated by the clinking of silverware and the strained chatter of polite conversation. You forced yourself to engage in small talk with those seated around you, your words measured and careful, lest you betray the fear that coiled like a serpent in the pit of your stomach.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of composure, you couldn't shake the feeling of being scrutinized by those dark, probing eyes. It was as if Feyd-Rautha could see straight through you, peeling away the layers of pretense to expose your most secret vulnerabilities. You found yourself growing increasingly unsettled. You longed to escape, to retreat to the safety of your chambers and away from the suffocating presence of the Harkonnen heir.

But you knew that there would be no reprieve, no sanctuary from the darkness that had descended upon your life like a shadow. For tonight, and every night thereafter, you were bound to him by the cruel machinations of fate, condemned to walk a path fraught with danger and uncertainty. And as you raised your glass to Feyd-Rautha’s toast to your impending union, you couldn't help but wonder what horrors awaited you.

“To the most beautiful bride in the world, I will certainly savor tomorrow’s…memories.”

The men at the table chuckled darkly while your father’s and brother’s jaws clenched. You lay your delicate hand over theirs, do not mourn me. If I am to die, I shall do so with honor.

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As your mother lowered your veil, you noticed tears forming in her eyes. You never thought you’d live to see the day the impenetrable Lady Jessica shed tears for you. I must really be walking into my death, you thought.

You looked at your reflection in the mirror. There were no words to describe the vision you saw. Crafted from the finest silk and satin, your wedding gown exuded an air of majestic elegance with flowing skirts cascading like waves of moonlight around your figure.

The bodice, adorned with intricate beadwork and delicate lace, hugged your curves with a tailored precision, accentuating a slender waist and graceful neckline. A row of tiny diamonds trailed down your body, gleaming against the smooth expanse of your back. While the front of the dress was conservative, your back was tastefully exposed through a combination of sheer silk, diamonds and pearls.

Your hair was pinned neatly into a bun with a delicate braid on each side. The veil was gauzy, making your face seem like a daydream. The ivory fabric of your dress pooled at your feet in a sea of frothy tulle and satin, forming a train that trailed behind you like a regal cloak. The wedding dress was embroidered with delicate motifs of growing vines, mountains and ocean waves – a reminder of Caladan.

At your collar, a border of intricate lacework added a touch of timeless elegance, its patterns catching the light in a dazzling display of shimmering beauty. With every movement, the gown seemed to whisper tales of romance and splendor, a clear hope to the love and devotion the seamstress had prayed you’d find. You choked down a sob.

You’ve made me an angel for him to ruin.

The wedding hall was adorned with such grandeur, you’d expect the emperor’s daughter was getting married instead. The flickering silver torches cast dancing shadows upon the ebony stone walls. As guests gathered in hushed reverence, the air crackled with anticipation, as if the very walls themselves whispered of your impeding damnation.

At the front of the hall, beneath a canopy of arched black silk, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stood, an imposing figure in his ceremonial garb. His porcelain skin was stark against the darkness of his clothes as he awaited his bride.

You approached with measured steps, hardening your grip on your father’s arm. Your eyes must’ve betrayed your fear and resignation because you could see Feyd-Rautha biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a laugh.

As you reached the altar, his lips curled into a predatory smile, his voice dripping with malice as he spoke the vows that bound you together in unholy matrimony. The words echoed through the hall like a curse, sealing your fate alongside his.

As you exchanged rings, a union forged in the fires of despair, you vowed that though your body may be bound to Feyd-Rautha, your spirit would remain forever free.

Standing before him, you felt the weight of his gaze like chains around your soul.

With a solemn nod from the officiant, you and Feyd-Rautha were instructed to seal your union with a kiss. He removed your veil, his eyes lingering on your face. As his lips met yours, a shiver ran down your spine.

The kiss was surprisingly gentle, but devoid of love. You gasped when his tongue entered your mouth. It was a macabre dance of dominance and submission, a twisted mockery of affection that left a bitter taste upon your lips. You try to push him away, but he holds your hands firm against his chest. The Harkonnens roar with applause and laughter. As you pulled away, a sense of profound emptiness washed over you, a hollow echo of the dreams and desires that had once burned within your heart.

The rest of the wedding banquet was a blur. As you were led to the high table by Feyd-Rautha's side, you couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, ensnared in a web of malevolence. The guests, mostly Harkonnen allies, noble families, and sycophants, feigned smiles and exchanged whispers, their eyes gleaming with a perverse curiosity at the spectacle of your union.

The feast itself was a decadent display of excess, with platters of exotic delicacies and goblets overflowing with rich wines. But the opulence only served to accentuate the suffocating atmosphere, as the room was closing in on you with each additional piece of ornate furniture.

Feyd-Rautha, ever the consummate host, played his part with calculated charm, his laughter ringing hollow in your ears as he regaled the guests with tales of conquest and murder. You watched him from across the table, his features twisted in a mask of false benevolence, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of revulsion mingled with a sliver of pity. He, too, was playing a part – ever the performer.

Throughout the banquet, you were subjected to the leering gazes and whispered innuendos of the Harkonnen cronies, their crude remarks slicing through the thin veneer of civility like daggers. But you held your composure, steeling yourself against their taunts and jeers, refusing to let them see the cracks in your mask.

As the night wore on and the wine flowed freely, the mood grew increasingly raucous, the revelry descending into a frenzied ecstasy. You found yourself adrift in a sea of faces, each one a grotesque caricature of humanity, their laughter and applause a cruel mockery of your predicament.

And amidst the chaos and debauchery, you couldn't help but wonder what was in store for you, chained to a man whose heart was as black as midnight. As you absentmindedly finished your last sip of wine, Feyd-Rautha stood suddenly, his chair loudly rattling against the granite floors. A chilling silence descended upon the hall.

He extended a hand towards you and you immediately understood his intentions. You departed the hall, hand-in-hand as men watched with envy and women stared with pity. You couldn’t bear to look at the faces of your family, afraid that you might beg them to take you home.

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As you left the banquet hall with Feyd-Rautha, a heavy sense of foreboding settled over you. The echoes of the evening's macabre festivities lingered in your mind, each laughter, each lewd jest, a reminder of the gilded cage in which you now found yourself imprisoned.

You walked beside Feyd-Rautha, his grip firm upon your hand, guiding you through the labyrinthine corridors of the Harkonnen estate. There was an eerie stillness in the air. With each step, you felt the weight of your predicament pressing down upon you, the reality of your situation sinking in like a cold, unyielding truth.

You stole a glance at Feyd-Rautha, his expression unreadable in the dim light. Occasionally fireworks would alight by the window, allowing you to see his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger that made you look away immediately.

As you walked in silence, your mind raced with a flurry of thoughts and emotions, a storm raging within you. You couldn't help but wonder what awaited in the bedchamber. You weren’t ignorant to the act of consummating a marriage, but your husband was no ordinary man. What horrors lay in store for a woman bound to a man as cruel and cunning as Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen… what would satisfy a man like him? But amidst the fear and uncertainty, a flicker of desire burned within you, a stubborn resolve to claim him as much as he claims you.

He led you into a large room with double doors. Compared to the gaudy decorations of the wedding hall, this room was relatively simple: a chamber of dark elegance and understated grandeur. There were only the bare necessities required of a bedroom, but each piece had been impeccably handmade with the most exquisite of materials. At its center, a massive four-poster bed stands as the focal point, its frame crafted from polished ebony wood, intricately carved with motifs of serpents and ivy. Perfectly sized above the bed, stretching over the ceiling was pure reflective glass. You swallowed thickly, this man had no shame.

A grand chandelier hangs from the center of the ceiling, its crystals casting prismatic rays of light across the room, illuminating the space with a haunting allure.

The walls are lined with dark, navy paneling, adorned sparingly with antique tapestries depicting scenes of forgotten battles and dangerously sharpened weapons. A sleek, black writing desk sits nearby, stacked with books on war strategies and adorned with quill and parchment.

A sense of regal simplicity pervades the space, each element carefully curated to its master. This is a sanctuary of solitude, where one can retreat from the heaviness of the Harkonnen world and immerse themselves in the embrace of peace.

Busy admiring the room, you didn’t notice Feyd-Rautha locking the doors behind you. You tensed when you suddenly felt the coldness of a blade against your back. With one precise slice, he cut your wedding dress open leading all the decorative pearls to fall to the ground. Your hands instinctively went to cover yourself, but his newfound grip on your wrists was even faster.

“You are mine now, pet.” His hands slowly guided yours down as he ripped away the rest of your dress. “Do not resist me, I want to see you in all your beauty.”

Your face flushed as you looked away from him. You knew objecting to his wish was futile, perhaps if you appeased him then he’d be gentler. You learned this was a useless thought the moment you saw his expression – raw, animalistic hunger chipped away at the edges of his sanity. His pupils dilated so wide that his eyes became monochromatic orbs of obsidian.

He removed his own clothes with swift and lithe movements, revealing pure sculpted muscle. Through the rapid rise and fall of his chest, you could see that he was barely holding back his lust. Feyd-Rautha was going to devour you without leaving a single morsel for the world.

“I-I… If you hurt me, I will scream.”

“Go ahead, it’ll only stroke my ego if you do. Scream loud enough for the whole banquet to hear. Let them know what pleasures your husband bestows upon you.”

With each step he took towards you, you took two steps back. When you felt the bed come into contact with the back of your knees, you realize you’ve been trapped.

“Lie down.” he commanded.

Sensing the tonal shift in his voice, you obeyed. You felt his long, slender fingers enter your most intimate place. When he curved against your inner wall, you let out an involuntarily moan – which he quickly swallowed from your lips. You had touched yourself before, but only rarely during occasions when you couldn’t sleep and the moon was hanging high.

However, this was different – he was different. His fingers reached places where yours never could. Your body made lewd sounds as he pumped in and out of you with torturous speed. The way you grind against his hand was indecent, but he rewarded you with such sweet friction. Hearing his low pants against your ear, you couldn't help but writhe into his touch. When you came undone, he smirked and licked your essence from his fingers.

Before you could catch your breath, he was on top of you again; caging you between his toned arms. He reached out to grasp your chin before roughly crashing his lips down on yours. The kiss was all-consuming, he was drinking in every part of you without letting you breathe. Your eyes wandered down to where his member stood unnaturally stiff and enlarged. Your new husband sneered at your expression before his right hand circled around your throat.

“Your throat… it shall be my axis tonight.”

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #dune imagine #dune fanfic #dune fanfiction #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #dune x reader #austin butler imagine #feyd smut #austin butler x reader #feyd rautha smut

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lady-phasma · 1 month

Text

Diplomatic relations

Feyd x gn!reader

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI! NSFW, spit as lube (I guess, kinda), penetration, honestly a little tame compared to my usual stuff.

The poll came in at 57% soft!Feyd so here we go. This is probably as soft as I can make him.

Summary: No physical description of reader. Feyd is on a diplomatic tour of an unnamed planet (not Caladan) under Harkonnen rule. You catch his eye, smuttiness ensues. Plot if you squint. 4k words

You looked away almost as soon as his eyes met yours. You didn’t want to be caught staring at the na-Baron. Feyd-Rautha’s presence on your planet had cause quite the uproar. Though many of the houses were pawns for the Harkonnen, some still remained who defied the colonizers. Your house couldn’t openly oppose the Harkonnen, but you knew that they were not respected. They were feared. They were fearsome after all. The na-Baron’s delegation had been sent to keep the peace, to quell uprisings, to provide confidence to the planet. You supposed it worked for some.

However, you wondered if the na-Baron was enthusiastic about his diplomatic responsibilities. He looked bored and distracted. You hadn’t thought it would be possible for him to notice one person out of the hundreds who crowded the city streets to show allegiance. But someone had caught his eye. He straightened a bit, turning his head slightly to look at you as the procession moved on. You swallowed hard and looked away again.

Your thoughts whirled and spun the rest of the day. That night, you would be in the same room as the na-Baron, possibly as close as the next table. Your house had the “honor” of hosting him on his first night in the city. You were preoccupied as you went about your errands, looked over the financial ledgers, dressed for the dinner. The hours seemed to pass excruciatingly slowly, dragging on for days.

As you walked into the main hall that evening your eyes searched for the na-Baron. You didn’t even realize you were doing it until a servant spoke to you and you hadn’t heard them. You nodded, unsure to what you were agreeing, and walked through the groups of people mingling and conversing.

You found your seat at the secondary table. The head table was reserved for the Duke and his guests. You continued to scan the room, lost in thought, unable to put your finger on why you were intrigued by the na-Baron. You barely heard the sounds around you, the chattering was a dull noise. You felt a chair pull out next to you but didn’t register who the occupant was until it was too late.

Feyd’s fingers stroked the utensils on the place setting, lightly aligning any that were askew. You looked up from his pale hands to his face. You were startled to see that he was staring at you. The Harkonnen skin and hairlessness were disarming amidst the bright colors of the hall.

“You must be old enough to know that it is rude to stare,” Feyd smirked as he spoke. “Surely you have seen a Harkonnen envoy before?”

“I- I-“ you stumbled over your tongue, then swallowed. “Yes, my Lord na-baron, I have seen such an envoy before.”

“And?” Feyd stretched the word out.

“Yes, I came of age last year and I know my manners,” you replied. You straightened your shoulders, squared them, and turned to face him more fully. “Did you need assistance to find your seat?”

Feyd laughed. His black teeth caught the light and you stopped a gasp before it could leave your mouth. They were almost horrible to look at, but the lips that surrounded them dulled that impression, somewhat.

The laugh was mocking but amused. He understood your tone as well as your impertinence. His blue eyes on you sent a chill down your spine. Almost as quickly as the laugh had appeared, it was gone. The grin that replaced it was somehow worse.

“No,” he spoke so lowly that it sounded as if the words rumbled from his chest. “No, I believe I already found my seat.”

There was no one on the planet who could make him move and the Duke was too subservient to object. Resigned, you turned back to the table and sipped your wine. All of your emotions mixed together: anger at his presumption, mild fear of his capabilities, and, strangest of all, curiosity. This man was intriguing and intensely attractive in a completely mad way.

Your food was unremarkable and you barely noticed if you had eaten any or not when they carried the plates away. Your dinner companion barely spoke at all. His interactions with the nobility were perfunctory and diplomatic. There was constantly an air of boredom about him. As imperious as he seemed, you didn’t think that this detachment was intentional. He understood his role here, his duty, but his thoughts were constantly elsewhere.

Only once during dinner did you interact with Feyd. Purely by accident, you turned to him to ask a very discourteous question. You caught yourself but he saw your face and wouldn’t let you go. Like an animal in a trap.

“How may I be of service?” His grin was infuriating. Without context, anyone looking on would think he was being as pleasant as was possible for him.

“It was nothing,” you tried not to spit the words at him, irrationally angry at that grin.

“No, please,” he leaned forward onto his elbows, grin falling just a bit as he dropped his voice. “Go ahead. I won’t command you, but I could.”

Your eyes widened at this, this threat. Was it a threat or a jest? You couldn’t read that infernal mouth. You made your face a mask, attempting to conceal any emotion.

“You could…” you began. “However, that shouldn’t be necessary.” Your chest began to tighten as you spoke. The feeling in your stomach wasn’t new but you hadn’t felt this in a long time. You felt like, no, it wasn’t possible… You felt as if you were flirting with him, and he with you.

“I was going to ask, Lord na-Baron, what is it you would rather be doing that sitting here? It’s a rather improper question, so I bit my tongue.” The truth seemed like the only way out of this trap.

You did not expect his smile to fall completely. Only for the briefest of moments he let his surprise show. He recovered and quipped back at you.

“Quite improper, but my answer would be much more so.” He grinned and leaned back in his chair, feeling he had won this round. A blush ran up your face, evidence of his victory.

After the Duke and his retinue offered the required pleasantries and excused themselves, the guests rose and began to leave the main hall. You stood before Feyd and succeeded in not looking at him as you began to walk away.

As you turned down the passageway, headed to your quarters, you heard heavy footfalls behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and the tightness in your stomach redoubled. There were only a few of the household staff remaining in the halls. You were nearly alone with the na-Baron. Your mind offered, unbidden, the word exhilarating.

His strides were long enough that he caught up with you in little time. His height was impressive after having been sitting next to him. Not much taller than yourself but tall enough to command attention.

“Were you tired of my company?” One corner of his lip curled in a smirk. “Or were you nervous I might answer your impertinent question?”

You stopped walking at this. He turned and looked at you, studying you.

“No, my Lord na-Baron,” you replied levelly. “I could not tell which you enjoyed more: my company or mocking me.”

His smile faltered then grew. You assumed no one ever told him the truth. You knew you could become afraid of him, perhaps should be, but you weren’t yet. Two chattering guests walked past and you moved to the edge of the hallway to let them pass.

Feyd stepped past you and leaned against the wall, his long coat belying the muscular figure underneath. Your breathing became shallow. His proximity to you was informal. It was unnerving. You couldn’t know what he was thinking and his smile was always simultaneously pleasant and malicious.

“Your confusion shows on your face,” he whispered. “What are you trying to discern?”

“Well, um, you, Lord na-Baron,” you dropped your gaze from his. “I do not yet know if I can trust you.”

Feyd dipped his head to meet your eyes and force you to look at him. He was barely smiling at all. His brows furrowed earnestly.

“You can trust me. I am only ever what I seem. I am an open book to any who care to read closely,” he whispered, mere inches from your face. He straightened and your eyes followed his. “Those who see that, don’t often call me ‘na-Baron’ every time they speak. Though I understand the risk one takes with using my name. I am quite…. impulsive.” And that smile again. This time with a touch of fondness in his eyes that suggested he was recalling a pleasant memory. Though you couldn’t imagine that murdering someone for using your given name would be pleasant. From what you knew of Feyd, he probably had done just such a thing.

“How might those who ‘read closely’ decipher your enigmatic smile?” Finding your voice, you spoke directly at him. This made him grin even more, showing his black teeth.

“Perhaps that may always be a game of guessing,” he quipped back. He took a step away from you and waited for you to follow. Your heart was almost pounding in your chest. You walked beside him, but allowing yourself to have some distance to think by staying one step behind. You tried not to stare at the slope of his head down to his neck, his hands, the only visible parts of his body. But they seemed to glow against the black cloth of his coat.

Neither of you spoke for a moment. The silence was tense but not uncomfortable. You weren’t sure you could guess anything about him. Your first appraisal of him may have been entirely incorrect, or mostly.

The main house sprawled, much like a palace though more understated. You knew the halls and passages by heart, but you weren’t guiding Feyd. You followed him without thinking. Your instinct told you to gather yourself and head directly to your chambers without a backward glance. Your curiosity was stronger than your instinct. Curious about him, yes, but also curious as to why he was so interested in you.

Feyd didn’t stop as he opened the door and entered his room. You paused, waiting for an invitation. He held the door and looked at you, no expression on his face. Your choice he seemed to suggest. He didn’t hold out his hand in a welcoming gesture either. You took one more breath to make your decision.

His room was probably a drastic change for him from his home on Giedi Prime. He had been given a guest room fitting of his station. The sumptuous fabrics and ornate furniture were more grand than those in your own quarters. You paused near the middle of the room. If he sat you would join him. He didn’t.

He stepped in front of you, looking, not speaking, and you felt that damnable blush rise to your cheeks again.

“If I may,” he began. “I’ll answer your question.”

You tried to nod but couldn’t. Your mouth was as dry as Arrakis.

“No, I did not want to be trapped at that farce, the quiet tension so palpable one could cut it with a knife. I was thinking of all the things I had in mind for you.” He took a small step forward and tilted your face up to his, fingers guiding your chin. His eyes were fierce and you saw no mocking in his slight smile now.

“Then you were correct, your answer would have been quite improper,” you managed to reply, mustering the last of your propriety.

“Yes,” he drawled. “Yes, then it would have been improper, but we’re alone now.” He swept his hand, indicating the empty room but he didn’t look away from you. He didn’t wait for your to respond. “You aren’t deferential to me like the others in your house. You are… intriguing. As I sat next to you, I decided I wanted you and I get what I want. Always.”

Your body tensed as he leaned forward and kissed you. At first you were rigid, unsure of what you truly wanted, but as one of his hands found the back of your neck you realized you had actually wanted this all along. Still wary of him, you kissed him back but did not move to touch him. His other hand slid to your waist and gripped you firmly, fingers digging into your flesh through your clothing. You exhaled and softened in his arms. You felt his smile against your lips. You assumed it was a triumphant grin but set your pride aside and opened your mouth to him.

Feyd’s tongue slipped into your mouth. His hand gripped the back of your neck harder. You placed your hands on his chest, tentatively, testing this new closeness. He slid his hand from your side to your back and pulled you in closer. You didn’t want the kiss to end but he pulled away and looked at you.

“Was that so bad?” he ask, finally without a grin.

You could only shake your head as your heart thumped in your chest. You moved your hands upward, slowly, to his neck. Using both your hands, you pulled him back down to your mouth. A small groan left his mouth and he pressed his body against yours. You licked his black teeth, growing braver. You still felt hesitant, nervous, even a little frightened. You had experience, you weren’t shy, but those were with people from your home planet. He was a Harkonnen. Completely hairless, scarily pale, and notoriously cruel. Something about the combination of those thoughts made you press against him in return.

His lips left your mouth and he drug them along your jaw, down your neck, the graze of teeth making you shiver. You let your hands rest on his shoulders, resisting the need to move your hips against him. Patience, you thought.

Without warning, Feyd let you go. Suddenly, his arms were gone. Then he spun you around so your back pressed into his chest. He wasn’t going to be patient. He clamped one hand on your throat and rested the other on the lowest part of your stomach. His lips grazed your ear and his breath was hot as he spoke.

“Are you going to give me what I want?”

“Yes,” you replied though you weren’t sure the sound was audible.

“Say my name.”

“Yes, Feyd,” you swallowed, feeling his hand move on your throat as you did. “Anything you want.”

He chuckled at this, the sound vibrating into you from his chest. His grip on your throat wasn’t tight but it held you in place as he slid his hand farther down your stomach. You didn’t let yourself moan as his hand grazed your thigh but you involuntarily moved your hips. You didn’t want him to take his time. Your need was getting the better of you. This seemed to be happening so fast, yet it had truly begun at dinner. Your desire had been growing with every step toward this room.

Feyd kissed just behind your ear, down your neck, as his hand dipped between your thighs. You knew he could feel your arousal even through your clothing. You wanted to push against his hand and gain more friction. He continued to tease, up and down, but then his hand slipped under your clothing. His touch on your bare skin elicited a groan from you. He released your throat and used both hands to free you from the garments.

You were momentarily embarrassed at your sudden nakedness but that was pushed out of your thoughts when he put his mouth on your shoulder blades, kissing each in turn. You began to turn to face him but he stilled you with his hands. You looked over your shoulder as he tossed his coat onto a chair and pulled his shirt over his head. He was actually magnificent you realized. He was hailed as a great fighter but you understood now it was more than skill, it was also strength. You watched him take his place behind you again then turned to face front once more.

You realized Feyd wasn’t just clever, he was always a step ahead of everyone. When you had entered the room you had been so anxious that you only took a cursory glance around the space. However, he had maneuvered you to stand in front of the bed. Now that you saw it, your breath caught in your throat. He was kissing your spine, your ribs, letting his hands explore everywhere but where you needed him. You took a deep breath and instead of the exhale you expected you moaned. He kissed his way up your back and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I take it you are no longer confused by me?”

“Quite the opposite,” you replied. You moved your hands behind you, finding his hips, and pulled him to you, back to chest again. It was infuriating that he still had his pants on. You slipped your fingertips under the waistband. Even half-clothed his erection was obvious against your backside.

Feyd gently pressed your arms to your sides and you felt immediate disappointment. But then he began to unfasten his pants. The heat from your body flooded to your core. The need, the ache, that had been growing there was now fully aflame. You felt one of his hands rest gently on your hip when he came back to you. Seeming to keep a bit of space between, you he guided your forward until you were only inches from the bed. His hand slid up your side, to your chest encircling you. You sighed again. His mouth explored and made its way back to your ear.

“Lick,” he commanded, holding his other hand in front of your face. It took a moment for you to understand and another moment for you to summon the courage to follow the command. He made you feel things you didn’t know existed. In a spilt second he made you feel like you were doing something wonderful yet illicit. It thrilled you and, as soon as your brain sent the signal, you lapped at his palm. He made a sound like a chuckle, but deeper. You pleased him.

You couldn’t see but you heard Feyd stroke his cock with his recently wetted hand. You whined. Not a moan but an actual, involuntary whine. The waiting was excruciating even if you couldn’t predict his actions, whatever was to come would surely feel amazing.

Feyd’s hand moved from your chest around to your back, rested gently between your shoulder blades, and began to press you forward. With your heart racing you leaned forward, placing your hands on the bed.

“Such a good pet,” he growled. You would have blushed if there had been any blood left in your body. It was currently all pooled in your core, throbbing with that need for him. He slid his hand down your back and gripped your hip. After what seemed like an eternity, you felt his cock between your thighs. You couldn’t control yourself and you pushed back a bit, trying to feel more of him. He gently held you in place. He moved so slowly, teasing you with his length. When he had the angle he wanted he put his hand on your other hip and pressed against you.

It was so slow. Every movement was wonderful torture. You tried not to push against him, so you pressed your face against the bed and groaned. He pulled back and began pressing into you again. You realized he hadn’t yet given you his full length and you gasped as he bottomed out. Over your breathing you heard the most delicious sound come from him. It was a groan, perhaps a word, but certainly a sound of extreme pleasure. Now, you did push back into him.

You looked over your shoulder as you ground your hips slightly and his eyes were open, watching your ass. His eyes were heavy-lidded and his mouth was slightly open. You had never seen anything so beautiful, so unique, in your life. Before you could appreciate him any longer he pulled back, started a new stroke, and caught your eye. He winked at you, cocky yet comforting.

You couldn’t take it, you buried your face in the bed clothes, overcome with desire. This man was your undoing. Just as that thought flickered in your mind Feyd increased his pace. With steady movement he brought forth a litany of noises from you. As he sped up you moaned and pushed back onto him. His low, rumbling groans were intoxicating.

Feyd’s hands roamed up from your hips, over your back, around to your stomach, ceaselessly exploring you. When he leaned forward, pressing his stomach along your back you reached behind you and grasped his arm. Pulling him down on you by his forearm, then traveling up to his bicep. Your fingers dug into his muscle His rested his forehead against your shoulder.

You felt the pressure building in your core from the consistent rhythm. You were lightheaded, dizzy with the feeling of Feyd’s weight on top of you, his scent, his sounds. Then a brightness shot through the fog as he reached around you and stroked the center of your heat. You made an undignified sound.

“Please, yes, there,” you groaned, unable to decide if you wanted to press forward into his hand or back to meet his hips. “Please, Feyd, don’t stop.”

“Of course not,” he replied as he kissed your shoulder and stoked the heat in your belly. He growled against you as he sped up. Pounding into you, his hand between your legs, his body pressed against yours, Feyd dominated all of your senses. You had no thoughts. Only the growing pressure inside you.

“Wait for me,” he said quietly but firmly. You could barely nod, much less speak to answer him, as all your concentration was focused on holding back the cresting wave.

Feyd’s strokes were deep but quick. He grazed his teeth over your skin. His unoccupied hand dug into your hip so he could fuck you that much harder. Then you felt it. The stutter of his hips. His hand between your thighs sped up. A flood of heat ran over your entire body. At the same time, your core seemed to explode. His grunting made you cum that much harder.

He let out a final, deep moan, mingled with your name, and spilled his black seed inside you. You inhaled shakily, smiling to yourself. The lightheadedness was back and you felt emptied, completely hollowed out. You stayed still as he caught his breath. You tried to relax as he pulled out, but were unable to stifle a small gasp. You were ruined but never wanted this to end.

Feyd gently stroked your back and then began to guide you up, almost lifting you from the bed. When you were standing in front of him he kissed you on the forehead, then the lips. With his hand on the small of you back he led you to the side of the bed. He didn’t instruct you to lay down, you didn’t have a choice. There was no way you could remain standing on your shaking legs any longer. He covered you with the blanket then stepped away for a moment. Unable to keep your eyes open you listened for him.

He soon walked to the other side of the bed and slipped into it, pulling you against him. He tucked you as close to him as possible. He kissed your neck. Then nuzzled his face against you before resting his head close enough so you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

“I always get what I want,” he whispered. Your lips curved into a gentle, satisfied smile.

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jointherebellion215 · 2 months

Text

His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you.

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.”

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!”

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it.

A life with your love was within reach.

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever.

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no.

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love.

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it.

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done.

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face.

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform.

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth,

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his.

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

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my-heart-beat-for-anime · 2 months

Text

Feyd-rautha x Atreides reader headcanons pt.1

Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3

- you first met when you were both children

- your father carefully observed the young Harkonnen who approached his little girl

- to everyone's surprise, you hugged him tightly and presented him with a dagger scabbard that you had sewn yourself under your mother's guidance

- little Feyd looked uncertainly at his uncle, who pushed him closer to the girl with his meaty hand

- with a small blush he thrust into her hand a necklace with a black stone that had been roughly worked by the boy's hand

- the girl lit up and started showing the gift to her twin with enthusiasm

- after welcoming ceremony the atreides twins and Feyd set out to explore the beaches of Caladana in search of seashells

- in the heat of the game the little princess cut her knee on a pointed stone in the sand

- little Paul immediately ran back to the family mansion to tell his parents what happened and Feyd slowly carried you back on his back, all the while saying that you shouldn't cry like a little baby over a small scratch

- when House Harkonnen was leaving you waved sadly to the little boy you had grown so fond of and who had promised to come back for you

-the second time you saw each other was three days before your wedding, which took place on Geidi Prime

- when your family landed on the planet you were greeted by the sight of a man you didn't recognize, the only clue that it was Feyd was the scabbard you which you made for him and which he now has to strap on his hip

- Even Feyd-Rautha didn't recognize his bride instead of a smiling little girl he saw a confident woman who looked strikingly like the mermaids you told him about and again what gave you away was the necklace, he made for you, around your neck

- ahh how he wished instead of the necklace it was his hand holding onto your neck during the waves of pleasure he was going to cause you when you were his

- his gaze fixed on the man who was standing behind you, he didn't like how he whispered something in your ear, you giggled, he didn't like how close he was standing behind you

- as you walked up to him he gently kissed your hand but as soon as you were about to pull your hand back Feyd gripped it tightly and slowly licked your wrist while maintaining eye contact with you

- chtěl dát najevo, že jsi jeho od chvíle, kdy jsi nasadil ten náhrdelník

Pt.2???

#dune #dune part two #dune 2 #dunefanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha x you #austin butler #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n

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kimitofutari · 13 days

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The new york times asked Denis Villeneuve if he would read fanfics of Austin and Timothée hooking up 👀

The internet will lose their minds. 🤣

#dune #dune part two #dune 2 #feyd rautha #paul atreides #austin butler #timothée chalamet #feyd x paul #dune fanfic #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha harkonnen #my posts

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aviawrites · 2 months

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the rage of a harkonnen (dune: part two)

pairings: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fem!Reader

summary: The Emperor’s second born daughter, Harauna, has never been truly seen by her father; Her light always being dimmed by the shine of her older sister, Irulan. As Maud’Dib continues fighting on Arrakis and her father’s spot falls farther into jeopardy, Princess Harauna sees an opportunity to finally find her place in the Imperium…Wife of the possible Emperor, ruling alongside Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. (3.9k)

a/n: i’ve already seen this movie twice and i’m going again😛 austin’s performance is so compelling, i couldn’t take my eyes off of him whenever he was on screen. i hope you all liked feyd-rautha as much as i do…otherwise i may be crazy. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: blood, death, abuse

in this story, yn is: Harauna Corrino (Harkonnen)

10191 // month 1 // 📍kaitan

“Paul Atreides is not our only prospect.” Reverend Mother Mohiam reveals, standing before you and your sister. “The Baron’s youngest nephew, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, will inherit Arrakis. He may be the answer.”

Your eyes open wide, the name itself sending shivers down your spine. You, along with all of your family, knew of Feyd-Rautha - Knew of the Sadistic Harkonnen, known for slaughtering anyone who challenges him, even his own people.

“Feyd-Rautha?” Irulan furrows her brows, “He’s psychotic.”

“That’s irrelevant. The question is…can we control him?”

You stare up at the Reverend Mother’s black veil, an idea striking you.

Since a child, it’s always been Princess Irulan - The Emperor’s daughter. Irulan will inherit the thrones, Irulan will marry Paul Atreides, Irulan will rule the empire. Never once has your father taken the time to look at you. Never once has he asked the Reverend Mother how you are as a Bene Gesserit. If he did, he’d come to learn that you’re just as equipped to take on the role of Empress as your sister.

You know what you know - You know how impossible it is to ever be worthy of attention in your father’s eyes. The sound of marrying the prince, possibly the future Emperor, doesn’t seem distasteful. Is he a terrible man, yes. May he turn out to be a worse husband, yes. But God forgive you if you choose being the possible ruler of the empire over being second best.

“I will marry Feyd-Rautha…” You suggest, coming out as more of a squeak.

Their eyes dart to yours, Irulan’s gaze feeling more like knives piercing your head.

“Young Harauna-“

“No.” Your sister interjects, turning your body toward hers. “Are you crazy? Feyd-Rautha is the last man you need to marry.”

“Irulan, I want to.” You push back, your voice low. “He may be Emperor one day, we need to secure that opportunity. Do we not, Reverend Mother?”

“We absolutely do, Harauna.”

Irulan’s jaw hangs open, looking between the two of you.

“Are you serious? Reverend Mother, you know Feyd-Rautha. You’ve seen him with your own eyes - You want Hara anywhere near that?”

“She’s thinking of the Imperium, Irulan. Should Paul Atreides be alive, he will want the throne.”

“Feyd-Rautha won’t go down without a fight…” You finish for her.

“Precisely. If he loses, Paul will have a bride awaiting him.” She gestures to your sister. “But if he reigns supreme, he’ll have a Corrino by his side.”

Irulan only shakes her head, disbelief glossing in her eyes.

“Hara…”

“Sister, I need to do this.” You whisper, softly squeezing her hands. “I can’t make decisions like you…I’m not you.”

“W- What does that mean, Hara? I don’t understand-“

“If I get in line for the throne…” You begin. “If I secure a spot for myself in the Empire, I will be nearly equal to you in father’s eyes. I’ll mean something to someone.”

A tear threatens to fall as she struggles to find words.

“You mean something to me.” She shrugs, now wondering if that holds any value to you. “If I lose you to the Harkonnens…If I have to stay here alone while you’re on Giedi Prime I don’t know how I’ll-“ She quickly wipes her eyes, taking a breath. “I don’t know how I’ll survive this impending war without you, Hara.”

You tilt your head, bringing your hand to Irulan’s cheek.

“Write to me, Irulan.” You smile, forcing back your own tears as you solidify this departure in your head. “Send messages to Giedi Prime, will you? Write them like you do your entries and I swear to you I’ll read each one. No matter what happens with the Harkonnen’s, I’ll always have my sister back home on my side, right?”

A thick silence falls upon the three of you, Irulan fighting between perplex and terror as her hands began to quiver in yours.

“I’ll alert the Emperor.” Reverend Mother says, leaving the two of you.

Alone, your sister pulls you into an embrace, one of the tighter ones. She allows her tears to land on your garments, her shoulders trembling as small whimpers escape her lips.

“Don’t do this, Hara.”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

“On your birthday of all days. The Baron should know better than to jeopardize his soon to be Planetary Governor in such a public manner. You could’ve died.”

“I would not have died.” Your husband fiddles with his blade.

“All slaves should be drugged, should they not?” You remind him. “It’d have taken only one swift slash of the Atreides’ blade and The Baron would’ve lost his heir. He’s insane.”

“Careful, wife.” He warns, “The Baron is flawed but his promises are rich.”

“What could he possibly promise you that’s more important than the entirety of this planet?”

He stares, his eyes scanning you up and down as a small smirk grows on his face.

“The entirety of Arrakis.”

Creases form on your forehead, your words coming out as stammers.

“…He promises you…Arrakis?”

“If I manage to control spice production.” He explains, reveling in your dumbfounded expression.

Your mind immediately imagines your life on Arrakis, a fate you’ve never considered. The plan was to marry Feyd-Rautha, be by his side when he defeats his opponents, have your father kneel to him, and rule the Imperium from the planet of the Harkonnens. But now, thoughts of working from the dune covered planet makes the hair on the back of your neck rise.

“But-“ You clear your throat, “Um - Is that not Rabban’s job?”

“Rabban failed.” He seethes. “He humiliates house Harkonnen with each Fremen attack he allows. With me ruling the mission, there will be no more.”

“What’s the plan? Once you’re on Arrakis who’s to say my father won’t order you out? What if he doesn’t like how you handle-“

“The Emperor has a set fate too, Harauna. If we were to expose what he did to the Atreides’, the houses would explode. A rise against the Emperor would ensue.” He nears you, looking down at your wide eyes as he bares his blackened mouth. “The throne would be ours to take.”

You don’t know if he meant to admit to what he’s admitted to. Though, you have no doubt he’d tell you his plans to kill your father to your face, indifferent to what you might think. But even Feyd-Rautha should have some sort of limit, shouldn’t he?

“Feyd…” You murmur, “What will happen to him? What will happen to my house? My Reverend Mother, my sisters? They’re innocent they don’t deserve-“

He rolls his eyes, turning away in the midst of your oration. “Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He returns to his spot across the room. “If you want to sit next to me as Empress, I suggest you straighten out a bit, hm?”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

14 hours later

Feyd-Rautha’s room reeks of deceased Harkonnen bodies and dried blood as you storm in, a scowl on your face.

Inside, you see your husband squatted by a dead servant, one that if you look too close you may realize is an acquaintance of yours.

‘FEYD-RAUTHA RABBA HARKO-‘ He’s carved into her pale white skin, his letters bleeding into each other.

The Princess Harauna 3 months ago would scream at the sight. She’d turn and run, alerting her Reverend Mother and father that a cold blooded murderer has gotten into your home. Only…this is home. The man carving names into bodies isn’t a stranger, not an intruder, but the man you married.

Though you’re not sure he knows it, seeing as you can practically taste the Bene Gesserit on him.

You shove, hard, knocking Feyd-Rautha off balance and onto the concrete floor.

“What the-

“Seriously!?” You shout, watching his bewildered expression looking back at you. “You’ve not been of age for one whole day and you’ve already betrayed me!”

“You watch yourself, woman.” He warns you, spite in his eyes.

“I can smell her on you.” You say, knowing all of the signs of a Bene Gesserit’s work, and a sexually vulnerable Feyd-Rautha. “She could be carrying your child!”

Your husband quickly calms himself, seemingly deciding not to waste energy on someone like you. On someone like his wife.

“Would you stop that yelling?” He mumbles, turning and beginning to smear the blood across the mutilated arm.

“How dare you.” You scoff. “I’m meant to be your princess. I’m meant to be your queen Feyd-Rautha! Not some girl who was on a mission. A Bene Gesserit who was here to test you and didn’t want you for more than one night-“

“You’re not any better!” He rises, his demeanor changing like night and day in a split second.

The minute he gets angry, his energy dominates the room. “Don’t you ever think you’re a better woman for being a power hungry leech who called dibs on the heir before anyone else.” He jabs, lowering until he’s in your face.

Your jaw hangs open, offense quickly overpowering the fear that you often feel in the presence of an angry Feyd-Rautha. Or any Feyd-Rautha, at that.

“I don’t need you.” Your eyes pierce his, flames igniting in yours. “I’m the Emperor’s daughter, I was second in line for the throne. If anything, you needed me to get to where you-“

The wind is knocked out of you as your husband grabs your neck, instantly cutting off your words. He grins, nearly frothing at the mouth as he always does at the slightest hint of violence. He feeds off of violence, in the face of which most people quiver he greets it with a big smile, he yearns for violence, he is violence.

“I needed you, huh?” His face about brushes yours, his saliva dripping onto you. “I wasn’t at home being neglected by daddy, Harauna. I wasn’t the second choice. I didn’t need to marry to get power. I wasn’t worthless.”

He’s entranced, his hand on your throat tightening with each sentence until you’re sure it’ll snap. You claw at his stained hands, collecting the blood of his servants under your nails.

“Husband-“ You croak, feeling the pressure in your head increase.

Feyd-Rautha only smiles, adrenaline rushing throughout him as he contemplates letting this be the end of you. Maybe he should rid himself of this royal burden before she sits with him at the top.

“Know your place, princess.” He whispers before letting you go with a shove.

You drop to the floor, crashing into the bloody bodies on the ground and fighting for your pipes to reopen. You frantically heave as he looks down at you once more, evil in his eyes, before he leaves you where you are.

Weeps escape you, feeling selfish as you cry in the presence of women who got it much worse.

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you. Nevertheless, in times like this, the possibility of being ruler of the Imperium outweighs the possibility of dying due to your attempts.

“Be the worst position in the highest room.” Your father used to tell you, “For some never make it to the room.”

10191 // month 4 // 📍starship

The low hum of the frigate gives the cold ambience some character. Rabban lounges across the kitchen table, his feet up on the marble. Your husband sits a few chairs down from you, sheathing and unsheathing his blade, creating a repetitive sound for the two of you to suffer through.

“Princess Harauna.” You hear as the grand doors within the starship open. A servant enters, seemingly a younger version of the Baron, with a thin metal tube in his hand.

The big man hands it to you, bowing slightly before shuffling away.

“Say thanks to the piggy.” Feyd-Rautha teases, a devilish grin on his face.

Rabban slightly chuckles as you eye your husband, sighing before opening the letter.

“To my sister, Hara.”

Your eyes gleam, seeming to scan faster and faster the more and more you read. The two men in the room with you don’t seem to notice, mindlessly engaging in their own boredom as the ship heats up in the weather of Arrakis.

You shut the tube with a click, looking down at it as you weakly attempt to process what you’ve just read.

“Paul Atreides…is coming.” You reveal, catching the attention of Rabban and Feyd-Rautha. “He makes his way from the south.”

“Paul Atreides is dead.” Rabban corrects you.

“He didn’t die in the attack-“

“I know that, woman!” He abruptly shouts, banging the table. “I saw to it myself, him and his mother died in the-“

“Sandstorm.” You finish, much quieter than he began. “But he didn’t.”

Your husband has turned his body toward you, now intently listening.

“They live - And they challenge my father now.” You look up at the two of them, “Him. He must be this Maud’Dib, this Lisan-Al-Gaib. Who else would it be?”

“Wait,” Feyd speaks up, “Challenge your father for what, exactly?”

You meet his gaze before reopening the letter, searching for the Irulan’s line on the challenge:

Paul Atreides will arrive unannounced when we land in Arrakis in a challenge for the throne.

Rabban shakes his head. “There’s no longer a need for the Emperor on Arrakis.” He misses the point, “We’ve got the spice production under control. The old bastard can stay home.”

Feyd-Rautha leans his elbows in his knees, looking up at you with that same evil look he gets whenever a dangerous plan arises.

“Atreides’,” He thinks aloud, “They’re little rats. Insects that keep popping up no matter how many times you exterminate.”

“Should I alert the Baron?” Rabban asks, speaking quicker than his acute brain can think.

“You will do no such thing.” Feyd demands, conjuring up his plan in his much more suitable brain. “Since the Emperor is deciding to pay us a visit despite the work l've done here…Maybe the Atreides' will do the bloody work for us. Keep us in the good graces of the Great Houses."

Bloody work, he says. The exposure and diminishing of your father’s name he means.

“Brother.” Rabban counters, “The Atreides’ - The Fremen - They’ll have us outnumbered. Uncle should be aware-“

“You will do no such thing.” His brother orders, now loosely pointing his blade toward Rabban. “The throne is mine therefore the throne is yours. The Baron won’t make Harkonnen the greatest house, brother. I will” He leers.

“Husband,” You voice reason, seeing all of the ways you could lose your promised spot to this scheme. “If it comes to a fight and Paul beats you-“

“He won’t beat me.”

“But if this challenge doesn’t go our way,” You hypothesize, “We could lose everything. Paul Atreides won’t let my father live, not after what he’s done. My family will hold no power, my sister will be-“

"I will remain unharmed, will I not? As will my brother.” He redirects. “Are we not your biggest concern anymore? Are we not your family, Harauna?"

…

The ship gets hotter and hotter as you near Arrakeen. Feyd-Rautha meddles with his torso buttons on the opposite side of the room as you stare at the screen in your bedroom, broadcasting the sandy terrain of the new planet.

“What would your plans be as Emperor, Feyd-Rautha?” You query, eyes locked on the family owned land.

He sighs as he always does when you open your mouth, as if nothing his wife says is worthwhile.

“Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He repeats.

“Just answer me…Please.” You urge, the question having appeared in your mind minutes ago and hasn’t stopped nagging since.

“What do you think my plans are, princess?” He turns toward you, his dark and threatening eyes seeming to dim the entire room. “I’m going to make the entire Imperium Harkonnen. Our family will be the most powerful spice harvesters anyone’s ever seen.” He begins, “I’ll give my Empress a child, grow our empire, and teach my princeling how to rule.”

You listen intently, trying your hardest to envision your life going from Princess of Kaitan, to wife of the heir, to Empress of the Imperium beside Feyd-Rautha, of all men.

Be the worst position in the highest room.

Your husband goes on. “Caladan will be a thing of the past. Atreides will be a thing of the past. Harkonnen will be the great house and any others will just be…Maud’Dib.” He chuckles.

“‘Your Empress’...” You point out, never having heard your name. You only wish to hear where you and your family stand in his master plan. “Would it be me?”

He gives you his undivided attention, letting go of his leather vest. “Why must you talk so much about things that don’t matter?” He asks, true indifference and apathy in his tone.

For some never make it to the room.

“…Is it me or no one?” You speak up, your voice frantically running before your mind can catch up. “Is it me or death, Feyd-Rautha?”

Your attitude shifts in the middle of your sentence as you realize where you’ve heard these exact words before.

“You or no one, Irulan.” Your father would say, stroking your sister’s hair while the rest of you sat and waited for nothing.

Never in your life did you plan to sit in a Harkonnen’s bedroom and beg for his approval. For his confirmation that you were his.

But here you are, begging the worst of men to love you the way The Emperor never did. The way he never will.

“In two moons I will be Emperor.” Feyd-Rautha strides toward you, holding your hands in his as he bores. “Harauna Harkonnen will be next to me.”

A smile grows wide on your face; An odd, yet full, feeling of acceptance spiraling throughout you.

His eyes suddenly seem to get even darker as his grip on your hands morphs into a crushing clutch. “For as long as she knows her place, she will remain.”

Ice replaces the once warm feeling in your veins. Your smile fades as his grows, watching the fear in you rise with each squeeze of your fingers. Tears form in your eyes as the reality of your situation sets in once more as it has over and over since you step foot on Giedi Prime.

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you.

10191 // month 4 // 📍arrakeen

two days later

You all stand completely still, your heartbeat seeming to be louder than the atomics outside of the Emperor’s structure. Inside the ring of Sardukaur lies your family; Irulan hiding behind your father as Maud’Dib, in front of your eyes, holds a blade over the Baron.

You and Feyd-Rautha stand alone across the walkway, your husband seemingly hypnotized by Paul Atreides as he plunges it into his uncles neck. Your hand resting on Feyd’s lower back vibrates as his breathing heavies, being just as amazed by Paul as you are.

The both of your mouths hang open, and for once, you and your husband seem to be on the same page. Paul begins barking orders at your father as you bring your lips to Feyd’s ear, speaking in a hushed whisper to not interfere with the daring Paul Maud’Dib.

“In the event of your death…” You begin. He slightly cocks his head toward you, listening. “Would you have me marry him?”

Paul gives one last daring look at the sea of people standing against him, though, he seems as fearless as your husband as his expression never wavers from stone.

“Is he worthy?”

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t so much as flinch at your comment, new, for a man like him. You can’t help but believe it’s because you’re right. The na-Baron recognizes that the viciousness that is Paul Atreides, no matter how unexpected, is a perfect match for him. A perfect match for his wife.

Is he wrong to admit that if not him, Paul may be the closest thing to fit to be Emperor of the universe?

…

You’ve never laid eyes on a fight so glorious. The two most powerful and ferocious men on Arrakis clinking their blades again and again in a battle for the throne.

The room falls silent as your husband lodges his sword into Paul, holding him close as one of the two release an animalistic roar. His mother stands, his Fremen’s mouths hang agape, your husband just hardly smiles at you over his shoulder.

You can’t help but feel a sense of dread boiling in your stomach. Yes - You want Feyd-Rautha to reign supreme. Yes, you want to be Empress. But as you watch the devilish sneer on his face fill out as Paul’s blood stains his pasty hand, your heart seems to be pulling you in another direction. You’ve always been quite talented at telling good from bad; But Maud’Dib, you can’t seem to figure out. He lays in the gray area in between the two, you determine.

Your reflection is quickly halted as the squelching sound of an edge piercing skin fills the room. You sway to the side, eyes wide as you see Paul’s hand gripping the handle, the rest buried into your husband’s heart.

A gasp escapes many in the room, you included as a hand flies to your mouth. You and your father very well may be the only people in the room who are rooting for Feyd-Rautha. Knowing this, the smiles that sprinkle themselves on attendants throughout the room quickly after the inhale isn’t unanticipated.

“You…” His raspy voice is almost too quiet for you to catch as he fights for each breath. “You fought well…Atreides.”

He slowly turns his head just far enough to have you in his sight. Even in death, Feyd-Rautha remains as menacing as the day you first met him.

He has no words for you. He only bares that stupid, prideful, blackened smile that got him stabbed in the first place.

You seem in a trance as you watch his body thud to the floor, looking as lifeless as the women on his bedroom floor back home.

“Lisan-Al-Gaib!” A Fremen leader calls, breaking the silence as his people repeat after him.

Paul Atreides, Feyd-Rautha’s murderer, rises. He limps toward you and your family, prompting your sister to swiftly grab your free hand as the other slowly lowers from your lips.

You had no love for Feyd-Rautha, nothing real. For him you experienced nothing that you should feel for a husband. Nevertheless, the tears flow all the same.

"The life debt has been paid.” Irulan blurts, squeezing your hand as Paul nears you. “Spare my father and I will be your willing bride. The throne will be yours."

Her words snap you out of your haze, throwing you into the face of reality as it strikes you in the heart.

"I'll take the hand of your daughter. She will remain safe and we will rule together over the empire." Paul declared.

In the span of seconds you imagine the moment a trillion different ways. If only he had nodded toward you, not Irulan.

‘Where is integrity?’ You wonder.

Where is honor in sacrifice when you've given all you know to give and you still don't win. You can never seem to come out on top. You can never seem to be first…But your sister can, as she always does.

You snatch your hand away from your Irulan’s; Your eyes glued to your father, now kneeling, as rage grows within you. The rage of all of the rejection you've faced, the rage of all you have given to get to where you are, the rage of now wishing Feyd-Rautha had stuck Paul Atreides' head on a spike for all of Arrakis to see.

The rage of a Harkonnen.

#dune part two #dune movie #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #dune fandom #dune fic #dune part ii #feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #feyd x reader #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha fic #dune part one

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sebastianswallows · 17 days

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The Little Death — 2. A dream of life

— PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Bene Gesserit!Reader

— SYNOPSIS: A Bene Gesserit gets left behind in the Arrakeen palace. When Feyd becomes the Planetary Governor, he finds her there in hiding. The Harkonnens don't traditionally keep them as truthsayers or concubines like other Houses do, but Feyd might have a use for her. After all, he's never had a Bene Gesserit of his own before.

— WARNINGS: a bit of voyeurism

— WORDCOUNT: 2.4k

— TAGLIST: @elf-punk

The best art imitates life in a compelling way. If it imitates a dream, it must be a dream of life. — Darwi Odrade

She confessed with regret that she did not, in fact, have one of those pain boxes. A Gom Jabbar was available in the palace and in fact was in the Harkonnen's possession as far as she knew, but that was just a poisoned needle tipped with meta-cyanide. What he was after was the… active part of the humanity test. That was only at the disposal of those sisters qualified to carry it out.

She was certain Feyd would do away with her once she explained how and why she didn’t have what he was after and prepared herself internally for death. But it never came. He paused in thought and nodded, and his cool eyes moved away from her with a shadow of sadness to them. Then he turned around, his broad shoulders clad in black exposed to her, and walked toward the table.

“You will come with me.”

He picked up a shigawire reel and shoved it in a compartment of his suit, a small pocket at the side of his chest, then walked right by her on his way out of the room. She followed obediently.

The palace was quiet, free of the usual fuss that filled it during the day — servants scrambling, scraping like traumatised automatons just trying to survive — but as they walked past the way she came she heard a violent sound from the direction where her old room was. They’re destroying my things, she realised.

Her eyes turned to Feyd-Rautha’s back once more, the smooth black of his clothes and white of his skin, and she wondered what plans he had for her. Would he be more subtle with his killing than his brother was, or… more creative? Would she be able to use the stunning word and paralyse him in time to get away? Would she have to kill him instead?

“Am I going too fast for you?” he asked over his shoulder. It was not an honest question, as she could tell from the smile in his voice.

“No?”

“Funny. I can hear you breathing.”

She bit her lip and glared at the back of his head.

They passed from the most shadowed places of the palace into the well-lit ones where snow-white lamps hung in the air. There were more guards in this area too, and she gradually realised they weren’t going to the prisons. They were going to his quarters.

“After you,” he said, stopping in front of a jaundiced pair of double doors guarded on each side by armed guards as still as statues.

She looked up at him warily as she stepped forward. He was still smiling in that cocky, boyish way, but something was incongruent. His awkward pose — not quite facing her, not quite to the side — the bent of his back as if he tried to make himself seem shorter, his arms somewhat aimless at his sides… He was trying to be polite and he didn’t know how.

She stepped inside. His room was nothing like what she imagined. The natural pale yellow of the Arrakeen stone gave it a softness that was at odds with the black linens on the massive bed. Moonlight streamed from the twin window slits on the opposite wall, and on the smooth tables lay an array of little boxes, pots, and cases left half-opened. There was a scent of ink there that cut through the modest smell of disinfectant. He’d only just moved in… He hadn’t had a chance to make the place his own yet.

As she analysed these new surroundings, Feyd stepped in and the doors closed behind them, leaving them alone. The palace seemed all the more distant now.

“My lord na-Baron?”

“Hm?” he muttered as he walked right past her, going to place something inside a drawer by the bed — the shigawire reel.

“W-what… what would you have me do?”

“You can do whatever you like.”

Her eyes slid toward the door. “Can I leave?”

She didn’t expect him to say ‘yes’, but she expected even less what he said next.

“Leave?” he chuckled, looking at her over his shoulder. “Where would you go? You’re my Bene Gesserit now.”

And he continued preparing himself for the night as if it was the most normal of circumstances. A part of her, the most human part, felt offended, but from the periphery of her mind, her training whispered to her what was really going on.

Feyd-Rautha kept his back turned and his attention on the objects in his possession — diskettes of reports he sorted for later reading, the daggers at his belt, the signet ring around his finger — and he spoke to her most dismissively and distantly. He was treating her like a stray cat he had just found and brought into his bedroom. Now he was letting her explore her new home, but he still did not dare to look at her directly, to watch her as openly as he desired. In his every move, however casual, there was nervous self-awareness. Completely opposite to how confident he’d been before he met her.

She’d served the Fenrings before, and the Atreides after them, but until now she had never quite felt owned. Still, if it was a kitten the Harkonnen wanted, that was what she would provide.

Without addressing him, she stepped sideways and turned, letting her posture loosen. Her head tilted back in a light stretch to relieve the tension of expecting death. She moved in a wide arch, slow steps, small sounds, while her fingers traced the surface of the wall for no reason in particular, just to absorb its texture.

“Why do you want me?” she asked in a low and silky voice. Seduction seldom failed with arrogant young men.

“I told you,” answered Feyd rather too quickly, his head bowed as he pretended to clean one of his blades.

“You’ve never had a Bene Gesserit of your own…”

“And it’s about time to have one.”

“Would the Baron approve?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, finally looking up at her. He smiled at the sight of her slinking across the room, dark dress trailing behind her. “Things can change, even in House Harkonnen.”

She paused mid-step to smile back at him. “Changes awaken something in us…”

He gave a noncommital hum and started walking to her, his head tilted in a thoughtful way.

“What sort of things do they teach you?” he asked. “At your… Bene Gesserit school?”

“Many things,” she said with an inviting tone. “Control of the self, the mind, the body… Understanding of history. Political strategy.”

Feyd came to a stop before her, a trepidation into his step. He walked until he cornered her in a darkened divot of the room. Standing a full head taller, he looked down into her eyes.

“What do you want to know?” she whispered.

He frowned, that strange smooth brow ridge wrinkling quite innocently, and his eyes betrayed transparent thoughts. He didn’t know what he wanted to know, but he knew he wanted something.

“What does… a Bene Gesserit do?”

“That depends on what our master wishes.”

“But what do you usually do?”

“We teach. We advise. When asked, we serve.”

“Did Paul Atreides have one?”

“Yes. His mother, Lady Jessica.”

The hints of jealousy were faint. There wasn’t much to envy in the dead… But he looked at her with that strange look in his eyes again, that speck of a little boy lost, and something in her instinctively wanted to cup his cheek, to pet him, and hold him close. She did not doubt that something inside of him wanted it too, and her body was just responding to the subconscious observation.

“Can you kill?” he asked.

“If I have to.”

“And have you?”

“Not yet.”

“In that way, I’m better than you, Bene Gesserit,” he chuckled.

And suddenly, his hand came up to grip the back of her neck. She was startled by how quick the movement was, how his body gave no tells that he would make it. A true predator. He pulled her closer, strong fingers tightening against her nape, pressing her against him. Beneath his armour, the plates of his body were strong. Every feminine part of her responded with a cascade of lust — not at the hidden hint of beauty but at the symbol of his pride. He wasn’t just a pampered princeling living through his allotted years of beauty. He brought his body to the peak of its potential. The motion pulled the veil off her head, and his eyes went to her soft mane of hair. His grip stayed firm, but his gaze traversed this new part of her as if it were a landscape, with hills and dales and quiet streams, all flowing down.

“Na-Baron,” she whispered, hand coming up to grip his wrist.

“Shut up,” he said, blue eyes still focused on her hair. “Go to sleep.” And then he let her go.

He turned from her and walked away with the energy of someone ready to run off — but there was nowhere for him to go, and his steps slowed. She watched him as she rubbed the sore back of her neck, watched how his head bowed for a moment as if he’d just woken up, how he walked toward the large square bed, how he started taking his clothes off…

He was a strange sight indeed. A broken psyche that reflected the duality present in his features — cold and frightful, soft and gentle, brutal but not so much from the absence of affection as from the presence of cruelty on top.

“Where shall I sleep?”

“Hm? Oh…” He looked around as if only just considering that fact. “Whenever you like,” he said, giving up quickly on thinking about it. “But here, in this room. You don’t get out of my sight, little witch. Not until I decide I can trust you.”

He pulled the layers of clothes off. First the armour on his back and shoulders, then the belt around his hips, and the second skin of the black suit that hugged his body.

“And… what shall I wear to bed?”

He paused and turned to look at her. His chest was as white as his face, but strong and chiselled, far less delicate. It shone with the sweat of a long day beneath the yellow light.

“Wear?” he rasped, his lips twisted in a quizzical smile. “Why should you wear anything?”

She settled for sleeping in a chair in a corner of the room. Feyd had gone to sleep completely naked, and he’d not been shy of parading his body around. She watched without fear, without shame, taking note of all the ways his muscles worked, the stretch and give of the skin, the scent of sweat, of blood.

Noting how much he seemed to like her hair, she did not cover it again, and after he fell asleep she quietly took the top layer of her clothing off. The Harkonnens were used to having their servants quite exposed, but she was not about to give him cause to think that that was what she was. If she wanted to survive, she had to walk the tightrope of perception. She had to be above him, as well as below. A knowledgeable Bene Gesserit sister, with all the guileless charm of a kitten.

She remained in her shift, a long grey piece held up by two thin straps, and used her dress as a blanket. She did now sleep but instead pretended to as she entered a state of Prajna meditation.

The secret pathways out of the room became known to her, faint currents invisible to the conscious mind. A spy hole existed in the western wall, covered on both sides by thin material. To the north, a doorway with no handle led into another room. Beyond it, sounds of restless sleeping. Three figures — feminine? Outside, the guards stood watch, but one was close to sleeping.

She was almost at the point where exhaustion caught up with her too, and like a slow receding wave her meditation ended. Her body lay relaxed and limp, head resting on her shoulder, hands folded. But with the last thread of her extended senses, she caught the taste of struggle in the room. Rapid heartbeat, frantic breathing, shifting eyes behind closed lids. Feyd-Rautha was dreaming.

Soundlessly, she slid off the chair and left her dress on it. The floor beneath her naked feet was cold as ice, it made her want to shiver, but she maintained control of every muscle as she walked toward the bed. Feyd’s body was twisted in the silken sheets, twitching, tense. Jolts disturbed his restful state as if in his mind he tried to get away from something. She could almost see the phantom trace of touches on his skin.

He slept on his front, arms thrown above his head, legs spread. His tossing made the sheets slip off his back to reveal a taut, tense expanse that ended in soft cheeks. Beneath them, the faintest hint of hairless, purpling swells and a limp length. He was so vulnerable…

As she got closer, she could hear him mutter words in a foreign language. Was that what they spoke on Giedi Prime? She could make out influences of galactic language all the way to those of the old Earth, but it was just enough to only guess what he was saying. The tone, nevertheless, was clear. He’s afraid, she thought.

She crouched at the edge of the bed where his naked foot hung off the side, her brow crested with worry. He was dangerous, she dared not touch him, and however much she wanted to wake him as a simple human kindness she wanted even more to see where his nightmares led.

With a long and frightful wail muffled by the pillows, Feyd dragged his strong beautiful body upwards, curling like a snake. He pulled his knees up to his chest and started shaking. Every now and then, his foot would kick. The sign of running in a dream. The whiteness of his body, pure and pale as chalk, the hairlessness of even his masculine parts, it made him look so fragile, so defenceless. A fascinating specimen. To think, the step just before the Kwisatz Haderach would look like that...

She let her body fall down to the floor and propped herself against the mattress, her cheek upon the bed. And she watched him, following the shadow of his dreams, for as long as the night went.

#Feyd #Feyd Rautha Harkonnen #Feyd Rautha #Dune #Dune part 2 #Dune fanfiction #Dune imagine #Feyd Rautha x reader #Feyd x reader #Feyd Rautha fanfic #Feyd Rautha imagine #sswallow;fanfics #sswallow;made a thing #fanfic;littledeath

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faetreides · 3 days

Note

modern!feyd thoughts? is he crazier than modern! coryo? i feel like modern feyd would be like a underground boxer or something

this ask is crazy because it’s so good. like i haven’t even considered modern!feyd before but the underground boxer element is 😋, went with the typical opposites attract hello kitty s/o trope again SORRY, mdni (AFAB reader)

Yeah something that like or mixed mma, i do imagine him in a more athletic field but it’d have to be one where he’s allowed to make a spectacle of being violent. The rookie that has a borderline demonic reputation because he’s so vicious. And sometimes he doesn’t even go into fights with winning being the first thing on his mind, he wants a good show as much as the audience does and he wants blood in whatever capacity he can get it.

He’s for sure crazier than Coryo, like lock them into a room together and Feyd’s skinning and deboning him like a fish. Still far removed from how he is in canon obviously, but i think that he does do the same extreme facial expressions during a match to psych his opponent out. Feyd wants to make it big, yes, but more so because he wants a bigger “stage” to have more people see him at his most raw and real.

But he stays because he knows no professional organization worth their salt would turn the other cheek when he loses control and kills his opponent. Not that that’s a common occurrence or anything, but the chance of it happening is never zero.

(His uncle definitely has a hand in the betting that goes on at his matches, and even places his own bets from time to time. Feyd’s resentment grows with every rigged match. He’s an unhinged freak with a penchant for blood lust, but he does still want to win at the end of the day when he’s done playing with his food)

You’re in the crowd for one of his matches. Attracted by the mystery and the taboo nature of what he does. You look nervous, rocking from side to side as your eyes follow every punch and dodge. You’re out of place, sticking out like a sore thumb in your tennis skirt and hello kitty necklace. There’s no date hanging on your arm or friend chatting your ear off, which leaves you ripe for the picking.

He keeps an intrigued watch on you out of the corner of his eye, hollering and crowding his opponent against the ring. He hopes you’re watching as he pummels his fists into the sorry bastard’s face. The low lights and the cheers from drunks and gamblers get his blood pumping. Even through all that background noise, he hears you softly gasp as teeth clatter to the floor.

Underground Boxer!Feyd who stares you right in the eyes when he’s declared the victor of the match, clocking how much you’re playing with the hem of your skirt. He smiles, a gross expression stained crimson and spits at his feet. It’s a good thing you’re so strangely accepting, his muscles are too sore to chase you down through back alleys and city streets.

He’ll burn through his winnings to give you the life you deserve, and he’ll wash the blood off you both when you get home after a fight. He can’t wait to see how you react to the motorcycle he’s got parked outside.

Fucks you against the cage when no one else is there and on his motorcycle. Gives you backshots in the shower, killing two birds with one stone. Bends you over his prize money and makes you squirt until you pass out on top of it.

Mean mean mean bf but he loves his favorite cheerleader with everything he has.

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sansaorgana · 22 days

Text

— THE GIFT

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

SUMMARY — You were born to be Feyd-Rautha's wife. You arrive to Giedi Prime to get adjusted to the new environment before your wedding. Your betrothed is trying to court you properly... but he only knows The Harkonnen ways of doing so.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — After a whole month of writing Thrown To The Wolves, I felt weird writing something with Feyd with a different Reader and a different plot. 🙈 But at the same time I was excited to explore a new scenario. 😄

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, death

WORD COUNT — 3,700

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

THE GIFT

Giedi Prime was an unfriendly place – cold and colourless, nearly lifeless as well. The people you were seeing reminded you of machines more than humans. You were terrified as you realised you’d spent the rest of your life there. The Harkonnens were even worse. Rude, harsh, not very talkative. Your future husband had looked you up and down on your first day in a way that turned your blood cold.

You missed home. You missed your family. But you knew it was impossible to ever go back. You could run away – if you somehow managed to bribe the servants to help you – but it was impossible to hide from your destiny. You had been born to be Feyd-Rautha’s wife, and most importantly, to give birth to his child.

You were a daughter of an important Lord, therefore you weren’t opposed to the idea of an arranged marriage. You knew nothing else was waiting for you in this world and no one would ever let you marry a person of your choice. But why was Feyd-Rautha your betrothed? Out of all the people in the galaxy, why did you have to be promised to a Harkonnen?

Ever since you had been a little girl, your friends had been teasing you about it. Repeating the dreadful gossip about Giedi Prime and your betrothed who had become a famous and dangerous gladiator in the meantime. And now you were finding out that the gossip was not true – reality was even worse than anything you had heard and expected of this place and of this man.

You were supposed to spend three months on Giedi Prime before your wedding, away from your home and family, to adjust to the environment and the customs. Then the wedding would take its place and you’d become the na-baroness of The Harkonnens.

On your first morning you were woken up with breakfast brought to your bed by the servants.

“Why can’t I eat with my husband’s family in the dining room?” You asked them while sitting up and resting on your pillows.

The pale and bald women looked at each other significantly. Everyone looked the same here, you felt like a freak.

“Baron Harkonnen and his nephews do not eat their meals together, unless it is a special occasion, a banquet of some sort,” one of them explained. “Everyone eats their meals in their own private chambers.”

“I see,” you nodded and sighed at the sight of the food. It was as colourless as everything around. You missed the bowls of fruit and yoghurts you had been getting on your homeplanet.

After swallowing the last bit of your breakfast, you took a shower and let your new servants dress you up. The Harkonnens had requested for you to leave all your clothes and personal belongings at home. They wanted you to be as detached from your old self as possible. You were gifted a whole wardrobe of new outfits instead. All black.

You wondered if they’d ask you to shave your head, too. You dreaded that. Your hair was like an armour you could hide under. Your servants had no idea how to manage it so they left it loose. You brushed it with your fingers since there was no brush.

When you saw yourself in the mirror you thought that on your homeplanet you’d be called a feral woman. In a black, long dress, hair unkempt and dark bags under your exhausted and empty eyes that lacked any sort of emotion.

You were supposed to have classes about The Harkonnen culture. You had been studying it since you were a little girl but they did not trust your progress and they wanted to test you in a more practical sense. Your teacher was an old man with a contemptuous smirk, a close advisor of the Baron and most likely his spy.

He had been asking you questions for the past hour to which you answered perfectly well. It was becoming difficult for him to hide his surprised facial expression.

“You’ve been trained well, my Lady,” he admitted.

“This is all that has been expected of me,” you explained with a nod, your voice was hollow and emotionless as you realised how true your words had been. Your whole personality was limited to be the future Harkonnen Baroness ever since you had been a little girl. You couldn’t possibly tell what you would be like under different circumstances. You had never been given a chance to find out.

“Very well then,” he hummed to himself. “I’d like you to roam freely around the fortress and try not to get lost. Tomorrow during our class you will ask me questions about the things and places that made you curious,” he informed you and bowed down before leaving the room.

You looked around, expecting someone to fetch you but no one was coming. He had to actually mean that you were allowed to roam freely around the fortress. Carefully, you left the room and chose to turn right. You had arrived from the left side of the corridor so you were naturally more curious about the right side and exploring a brand new territory.

You were too scared to try to push any doors, though. You didn’t want to walk in on things that would possibly make someone beheading you for seeing. The occasional guards passing you by were looking at you suspiciously but they were not saying anything. After a while you stopped seeing them at all and realised you were in a dark maze of endless corridors that you had no idea how to get out of.

Trying to go back, you only ended up getting lost even further as you were going deeper and deeper into the maze. Your heart started to pound in your chest and your hands began to shake as they turned cold. The corridor was cold in general – much colder than the rest of the fortress. And it was terrifyingly empty.

You decided to stay in one place and wait. Someone had to eventually look for you, right? You hoped for it to be true. Trying to hug your own self for warmth and comfort, you rested your back on the cold, grey wall, taking deep breaths in.

Suddenly, a loud and animalistic cry emerged from behind one of the black doors. You were startled by it and your body began to tremble even more. You wanted to get away as far as possible from that door but when you were about to turn around and run, they opened and your heart squeezed in your chest.

To your surprise, it was your betrothed leaving the mysterious room. He was wearing gladiator attire and holding a blade in his hand with blood still dripping. His eyes widened at the sight of you and you froze.

“What are you doing here?” He asked in his deep and raspy voice.

“I… I got lost, I’m sorry. I’ve been told to roam freely around the fortress and explore on my own but I got lost…” You explained as you shivered.

Feyd-Rautha approached you slowly like predators approach their prey. You took a step back and felt the wall behind you. You were trapped.

“Lost, you’re saying?” He smirked as he hovered over you. Your heart was pounding so fast in your chest that he just had to hear it. He rested one of his hands on the wall above your head and leaned in even closer. “You’ve accidentally gone underground where I train on my slaves,” he smiled almost playfully, showing off his black stained teeth.

“I’m sorry, I did not mean to..” You gasped but he shushed you with a soft hiss.

“Did I say it was forbidden?” He asked and you shook your head. “Come, I’ll show you,” Feyd straightened himself and reached out his hand towards you as if he was a proper gentleman.

Everything inside you was screaming to run away and to not follow him anywhere. But you were aware that he would catch you in a second and your attempt would only most likely enrage him. And very soon you would belong to him anyway. You would be his property whether you wanted it or not.

You held his hand and he froze at the feeling of your ice cold and shivering fingers.

“You are cold,” he pointed out. “And scared.”

“I am not scared,” you lied. You had been taught that The Harkonnens hated fear and cowardice.

“And a liar,” Feyd-Rautha sneered and led you inside the mysterious room he had previously left.

It was big and dark like every other room in that fortress. There was a dead body of a servant in gladiator gear laying on the floor in the puddle of his own blood. The walls were covered in all sorts of weapons.

“This is where I train,” Feyd announced proudly. He had to think it would impress you but it only made you sick, especially the sight of the dead man on the floor. You had never seen death in such a brutal and ugly way before. But now you were sure it was not the last time.

Feyd was visibly waiting for your response as he let go of your hand and took a step back to tilt his head and watch your expressions carefully. You realised it was a test of how much you were able to handle as his wife.

You wondered what would happen if you failed all the tests. Would they just send you back home or would they get rid of you? Were they even able to do that? You didn’t want to find out.

“It is impressive, my Lord na-baron,” you admitted with a shaky nod of your head and he winced at your words which made you furrow your brows.

“Don’t address me like a servant, pet,” he clicked his tongue and you nodded, slightly uncomfortable at the way he had called you.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised. “How should I address you then?”

“However you like,” Feyd shrugged his arms and approached you once again, raising his bloody blade slightly as you flinched. It brought a smile to his full lips. Looking deep into your eyes, he licked the blade clean. You clenched your jaw and tried to keep a poker face on but a knot formed in your stomach at the disgusting act.

You hated to admit that he was attractive for a Harkonnen. There was a magnetic energy about him that made you attracted to him like a moth was driven to a flame. Even his harsh and unpleasant voice was leaving you wanting more.

Feyd brushed your hair with the tip of his freshly cleaned blade, carefully, making sure not to cut any strand.

“I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he looked even more intensely into your eyes.

“That would be inappropriate,” you tried to explain. “It’s not considered elegant.”

“I said, I want you to always wear your hair like this,” he repeated like he couldn’t understand why you were trying to argue. He was a spoiled na-baron and completely not used to people disobeying him. So, you just nodded this time.

“Then I will,” you promised. “If I could only get a hairbrush, though. Or a comb. So they don’t tangle,” you pleaded and he squinted his eyes at you as the tip of his blade moved to under your chin. You swallowed thickly at that gesture.

“A hairbrush or a comb,” he repeated your words. “That can be arranged,” he added and you smiled nervously at him. “What are you scared of?”

“Of the blade under my chin perhaps?” You raised an eyebrow at him and he chuckled, however his hand remained still.

“Weren’t you sent here to be my wife?” Feyd’s smile dropped in an instant. He was serious again and you took a deep breath in, tugging on the folds of your dress to hide how sweaty your hands had become.

“Yes, I was,” you nodded.

“And what do you think of that?”

“I don’t think. I have been preparing for that since I was a child,” you answered.

“I want to be a good husband,” his sudden confession made your eyes widen. In one swift move he took the blade away from you and replaced it with his hand as he held your chin up, forcing you to look into his eyes. “My uncle says that a wife should not be an enemy. He wants me to court you properly,” he explained.

“Is your uncle experienced in marriage?” You asked, curiously. You had been taught that Baron Harkonnen had never been married.

Feyd laughed at your question as his grip on your chin tightened. He moved his face even closer to yours, your nose nearly brushed his and it made you hold your breath.

“Can you think of a woman who would not become his enemy after being forced to marry him?” He asked you and you dared to chuckle at that.

“So, I assume, I do not have to worry about you becoming like him one day?” You bit on your lower lip, realising that he indeed did not want to hurt you.

Perhaps that whole uncomfortable and threatening situation was his idea of intimacy. You wouldn’t be surprised.

“My uncle is not my role model,” he only answered and took a step back, removing his hand from your chin. “I don’t have idols.”

“What do you worship then?” You furrowed your brows.

“Blood and honour,” he answered with all seriousness. “Allow me to give you something, my pet. A gift for my bride to be,” he proposed and you hesitantly agreed, not wanting to hurt his feelings by refusing.

You expected him to approach one of the walls and hand you some of the weapons. But, to your surprise, he kneeled down next to the dead body laying on the floor and he opened its chest with the sharp tip of his blade. You gagged quietly and covered your mouth with your hand, trying to look away as the metallic smell of blood hit your nostrils, leaving you nauseous.

The sound of his heavy footsteps made you look in his direction again, not wanting to offend him in any way. He was walking towards you proudly with a real human heart in his hands, blood dripping off of it on the floor, leaving a trace. With all your force you stopped yourself from squealing at the sight. No amount of training and studying The Harkonnen culture had prepared you for this.

Feyd-Rautha reached his hands out as he offered you his foul gift. He was staring at you intensely, expecting praise of some sort or admiration. However, you had none. You let the wet organ slip into your hands as you gagged once again at the sensation and a shiver went down your body. Your reaction caused Feyd to tilt his head and squint his eyes.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” You asked in a shaky voice.

“You don’t like it,” he pointed out after a short while of silence and you got scared of upsetting him.

“It’s not that I don’t like it, I just…” you started, trying to nervously explain yourself.

“You don’t like it,” he repeated, both annoyed and disappointed.

“I appreciate the gesture,” you tried to assure him. “I will keep it,” you promised.

“Why don’t you like it?” He asked once again, ignoring all your words. You sighed.

“It’s just not something I’m used to. In my homeworld, we don’t give each other human hearts,” you explained softly.

“What do you give each other?” His question was genuine and curious.

“Haven’t you studied my customs like I have been studying yours?” You asked but the answer was obvious.

“My uncle says it is not important for me to know your culture because you are here to become one of us,” Feyd explained. “The only thing I have been studying was the blade,” he added. “So, what kind of gifts do your people give?”

“Flowers,” you answered. “For example.”

“There are no flowers on Giedi Prime,” Feyd pointed out. “No seed blooms in our soil.”

“I understand,” you nodded, nervously. “I am grateful for your gift, Feyd-Rautha. I appreciate your courtship,” you assured him but your voice and hands were shaking as your face was visibly disgusted.

Someone knocked upon the doors and Feyd barked at them to come in. You turned around and saw two guards sighing out of relief at the sight of you.

“There you are, my Lady!” One of them approached you. “We’ve been searching everywhere. Let us escort you back to your chambers,” he bowed his head.

You nodded at him, relieved as well at the sight of them. You wanted nothing else than to go back to the familiar part of the fortress and to finally leave this awkward and uncomfortable situation with your betrothed.

Still holding the heart carefully in your hands, you walked out without even glancing at Feyd-Rautha. The guards took you to your chambers where the worried servants had been waiting. They gasped at the sight of your gift.

“What is it, my Lady?” One of the girls asked you.

“It’s a gift from Feyd-Rautha,” you explained as they all widened their eyes. “I have no idea what to do with it,” you admitted.

“Feyd Rautha gave it to you, my Lady?” The servant swallowed thickly and you nodded. “Do you know what it means, my Lady?”

“No,” you shook your head and handed the organ to another girl. “I desperately need to wash my hands and change my dress,” you said and disappeared into the bathroom where you spent fifteen minutes getting rid of the blood.

You took the stained dress off and threw it on the floor before walking out back to your chamber. The girls were already preparing the heart as they put it in a jar full of some odd liquid.

“It will dry in there, my Lady,” one of them explained. “Na-baron must be really enamoured with you, my Lady, or perhaps he is trying to show his best side to you.”

“Enamoured?” You snorted at her. “It’s gruesome.”

“It’s the most romantic thing a Harkonnen man can give to a woman, my Lady,” the other woman added and you gasped.

“I haven’t been taught that…” You whispered, feeling extremely stupid for the way you had treated Feyd-Rautha before. You had to anger him dearly and his rage was not something you wanted to deal with. “What is the equivalent of such a gift for a man? What can I give him in return?” You asked the servants and they looked at each other’s faces, surprised.

“There is no equivalent, my Lady,” one of them answered. “Harkonnen women do not court. Only men do.”

On the next day, when you were leaving your chambers to go to your class, you spotted the doors nearby opening and your betrothed walking out of them. Your room was in the same area as his so it was no surprise but you didn’t expect to see him at the same time in the morning. At the sight of you, he looked down and walked past you without a word, which made you feel bad for him and for the way you had treated him. But it also made you anxious because his uncle has been right about marriage. You didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to be your enemy.

Giedi Prime was far from perfect and your betrothed was an odd, psychotic creature. You couldn’t change your destiny, though, so you had to embrace it to make it bearable.

“Feyd, wait,” you rushed after him and he froze when you grabbed the sleeve of his robe. He turned around and looked at you coldly.

“I am in a hurry,” he drawled.

“So am I. But I wanted to apologise. I have been studying the Harkonnen culture for years but I have never been told of the meaning of such a gift,” you explained, feeling your cheeks getting warm. “Please, forgive me. I didn't mean to reject you.”

“The heart was of a low quality,” he admitted as his face softened slightly. “Next time I will give you the heart of a real warrior, a real enemy. Not some slave,” he added. “My uncle has already reprimanded me for that.”

You broke a smile at him. It was adorable in a way how this scary and dangerous man was following his uncle’s guide on courtship, trying to be on his best behaviour around you. It was making you feel powerful in a way.

“I would like to return the favour but my servants have informed me there is no such tradition,” you confessed. “What can I do for you to forgive me?”

Feyd-Rautha hesitated for a moment as he looked away, thinking intensely about something. Then he laid his eyes on you again and leaned in to join your lips together. You were startled at first, your heart pounded in your chest. Raised to become his wife, you had never kissed anybody before and saved yourself for him only, however it felt as if his soft lips were truly made for yours. You put your hand on his chest and opened your mouth to invite his tongue in. He devoured you, greedily wanting to explore your mouth and feast on your taste. His hands pulled you closer by your hips and you put your free hand behind his head. Seeing him for the first time in real life two days ago, you had been slightly uncomfortable at the sight of him. But now you did not feel any of that.

Even if you hadn’t been prepared to become his wife, you’d still want him. You had been born to be his.

Feyd’s hands moved up and cupped your face before breaking the kiss and moving away gently. You took a deep breath in as he stared into your eyes and caressed your loose hair.

“You’re forgiven, my pet,” he told you. “By the way, I’ve ordered a hair brush for you.”

MASTERLIST

#dune imagine #dune x reader #dune fanfic #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen imagine #feyd rautha harkonnen fanfic #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

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lovetwist · 1 month

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Veil of Deception (II)

SYNOPSIS: Forced into marriage with Feyd-Rautha, you must now consummate the union. A night of unsparing obscenity. His grip on you is deadly, perhaps worsening when you seek to escape him.

WARNINGS (R18+): dub-con, first time, biting, marking, sexual content, breeding, mentions of choking, power play, violence, weapons, cannibalism

Word count: 2.6k

PART 1

The night seemed excruciatingly long, your body overwhelmed by the sensations ruptured by your husband: pain, pleasure, pure agony.

Feyd-Rautha was transfixed on the way your hair sprawled out on the bedsheets, creating a halo around your body. You had found it to be a strange request when you were informed to keep your hair long for the wedding. Now you knew exactly who had made the order each time your husband pulled, scrunched, and ran his calloused hands through your locks.

“Please – ah – slower!” you gasped underneath him.

What a mistake to beg or plead. His pace seemed to only quicken with every whimper you released. It had been hours, he was entirely relentless in his pursuit of unraveling you. Every time you felt as though you’d die, he’d slow and make you wet once more.

You hated the way you would arch for him, your physical body betraying your moral dignity. You hated how he would smirk every time, calling you ‘pet’. Most profoundly, you hated the mirror above his bed exposing the shamefulness of every position he took you in and the wanton expression you wore during them.

Feyd-Rautha was a skilled lover, but he was greedy in chasing his own release – which seemed to never end.

Your mother couldn’t prepare you for this, the Bene Gesserit had very little information on the na-Baron’s likes and weaknesses aside from rumors. He had killed the previous Sister sent to seduce him and broken the neck of another Sister who attempted to plant a trigger word in his mind.

Perhaps it would be a miracle if you survived your wedding night.

It was almost animalistic the way he pounded into you with limitless stamina. His seed was still dripping down your legs as he flipped you over like a hound. Your cheeks flushed at this positioning, he was treating you like a beast in heat.

“Cry for me, pet,” he’d sneer every time tears stung your eyes.

“I-I’m not your pet,” you’d pant trying to adjust to his speed. Your defiance and spirit would only set him off further into lunacy.

You’d never forget the raptorial look in his eyes when you first bled. He had prepared you well with his fingers and tongue, but his extraordinary size still pierced your hymen painfully. Feyd-Rautha arrogantly reveled in the fact that he was the first man to claim your maidenhood – and subsequently subjected you to every single one of his primal desires.

His bites on your body ached initially, followed by thorough licks of every reddened wound with his hot tongue. During the brief intermissions, he traced the bruises marked on your hips and thighs smugly. Your husband was a paradox, torment and pleasure wrapped into one.

The experiences he gave you differed wildly from anything you had read upon the marital bed. Though you were disappointed in the lack of romance, you did enjoy his physicality. His allure was striking with chiseled facial features, piercing eyes, and a toned body.

You didn’t fail to notice the flex of his muscles with every thrust into you or how his voice would drop several octaves when he was close to release.

His hands were rough, but his fingers were beautiful – the masterful way they would tease your breasts and sadistically wrap around your throat. You’d shiver when he licked your ears and nipped at your swollen lips.

Feyd-Rautha didn’t kiss you often, but when he did it could only be described as an unearthly procession of dominance. He was aggressive and vicious in the way he forced his tongue down your throat, exploring every inch of your mouth while his large hand locked your face in place. You couldn’t deny that your body was in complete submission of his depravity.

He smirked each time you moaned and mewled into his kiss, flattering his ego. The way he overpowered you so easily made your head spin.

“No more…” you groaned as you gripped the sheets beneath you, already wet with sweat and cum.

He’d sneer and scoff as he denied you, further burrowing himself into your hair and savoring your scent. You couldn’t oppose this predatory creature on top of you, not when he held your entire being in the palm of his hand.

“You belong to me, we stop when I say so,” he growled every time you tried to turn away. He held your wrists down with both arms, caging you beneath him like prey.

The last thing you remember from your wedding night were the rays of sunlight pouring through the curtains when you finally lost consciousness.

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

The morning light filtered through gaps in the velvet curtains, casting a gentle glow over the chamber. You stirred, slowly emerging from the depths of sleep, your body still tingling from the intensity of the night before. Memories flooded back, mingling with sensations of arousal and embarrassment.

The bed was cold. Instead of your husband, you found a silver tray placed next to the nightstand with delectable plates of food.

‘Eat.’ was elegantly scripted on an adjacent card. You rolled your eyes at his overbearing personality but couldn’t deny the pangs of hunger.

After breakfast, you decided to take a bath. As you placed both feet on the ground to walk, your legs wobbled terribly. Sitting back down on the bed with a long sigh, you decided to wait for servants to eventually come fetch you.

Hours passed and no one came. When the sun rose high enough to be early noon, the doors burst open.

Your husband strode in, his presence commanding the entire room. His eyes, still burning with yesterday’s fire, swept over you. He took in your disheveled appearance with a hint of amusement.

"Good, you’re alive," he remarked, his voice laced with self-satisfaction.

"Apologies for the disappointment, but I don’t die so easily,” you retorted, unable to keep the edge out of your voice.

He ignored your comment, crossing the room in long strides until he stood before you, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. Without a word, he reached out, his fingers trailing along the marks on your chest in a gesture that was both possessive and intimate.

"You fainted,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. "I hope you’ve regained your strength.”

"Don’t touch me,” you shot back, unable to suppress the surge of defiance.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You are my possession. Mine to use, mine to break if necessary,” he reminded you, his voice a low growl. "And you will open your legs for me. If not, then I’ll have to use your pretty little mouth."

You bristled at his words, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of something else— fear, perhaps, or maybe something more primal, a recognition of the power he held over you and a heat forming in your lower core.

For a moment, you were tempted to push him away, to fight or defy him once more. Not all battles were won in a day, you thought to yourself.

Thus you didn’t protest when he ripped the sheet exposing your naked form, and you stubbornly ignored the fact that you came three times underneath him that afternoon.

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

On the fourth day of your marriage, you become suspicious of why you never see servants. Every day you awake, and everything is remarkably already prepared.

“Why do I not have any servants to attend me,” you questioned.

“You do. Only, no one is allowed to enter my chambers without prior permission,” he replied flatly.

“Well then, I’d like to leave for my own chambers.” You weren’t confident if you even had chambers, but you guessed they must be storing your clothes and belongings somewhere.

“You will leave when I no longer require you here,” his voice boomed. “Aren’t you enjoying our honeymoon, pet?” he mocked.

“Do not call me pet, Feyd-Rautha. I am your wife, not an animal you can cage and entertain on a whim.”

“Right,” he drawled. “If you had been an animal, I would’ve already broken you a thousand times over,” his eyes glinted with interest. “Especially one that doesn’t know when to shut its barking, wife.”

As Feyd-Rautha's words hung heavy in the air, a tense silence enveloped the room. You could feel the weight of his brutal nature pressing down on you, suffocating any resistance that simmered to rise within you. With a deep breath, you squared your shoulders, refusing to cower before him.

"I demand to know why I'm being kept prisoner in this room," you declared, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

Feyd-Rautha's eyes narrowed, his gaze darkening with anger. "Prisoner?" he scoffed.

"You are performing your marital duties, na-Baroness. Do not sour my mood. Lest you’ve forgotten the purpose of this union, I need to fuck you until your womb swells with my seed,” he gritted his teeth, “It’s been pleasurable so far, hasn’t it? You moan like a whore under me each night."

Speechless, your mouth gaped at his profanity.

"It would be a mistake to disobey me."

A surge of frustration bubbled up inside you, threatening to spill over. "And if I refuse?" you challenged, daring to meet his gaze head-on.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk, a glint of malice dancing in his eyes. "Then you will suffer the consequences – which you would not be able to bear, little one" he replied, his voice dripping with menace. “Do you want me to show you?”

Before you could respond, he clapped his hands twice. The doors to the chamber burst open, entering a group of armed guards standing at attention. Feyd-Rautha's expression turned into a dark leer.

"Escort my wife to her personal chambers," he commanded, his tone deceptively calm. "And make sure she doesn’t go anywhere without a guard. From now on, she is not to enter nor stay in my rooms."

As the Harkonnens moved to seize you, you realized with a sinking feeling that you were truly trapped in this gilded cage, at the mercy of a man whose cruelty you had yet to understand.

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

Deep within you, a flicker of rebellion still burned bright, a willful resolve to reclaim your freedom and dignity, no matter the cost.

Your room, surprisingly luxurious, boasted a large balcony that offered an overhead view of the training grounds. It seemed purposeful, chosen to serve as a stark reminder of the life you had been thrust into: perpetual violence.

You weren’t alone in your room; servants flitted about, attending to your needs with a silent efficiency that bordered on eerie. They all looked the same, simple white garbs and shaven heads. Attendants moved like shadows, their presence barely felt and never acknowledged. It was as if they were part of the furniture, existing solely to serve.

As na-Baroness, you only had a few measly duties assigned to you: organize balls and events of state. This was laughable as events on Giedi Prime occurred only a few times per year, mostly none with consequence or importance.

There were two ways you could see your husband: on the training grounds or when he came to fuck you.

Feyd-Rautha was a formidable warrior with carefully honed skills and keen senses. However, he often flaunted his prowess to the point of showmanship. Having nothing else to do, you watched his sparring sessions sometimes.

Under the black sun of Giedi Prime, it all seemed like a colorless nightmare that you’d hallucinated. Blood, violence, and the never-ending screams haunted you even as you closed the balcony doors. This was no nightmare, it was reality.

Your husband was a disciplined man who adhered to a tight routine; training early each morning, proceeded by visits your room.

After your confrontation, he hardened towards you. There would be no conversation, Feyd-Rautha had the mind to only satisfy himself and left quickly afterwards. He always slept in his own his chambers.

His anger did not ever seem to dissipate, only replaced with lust temporarily.

The monotonous days left you feeling isolated and adrift in a sea of strangers. The only reprieve came in the form of letters you sent to your family. They’d ask you how you were faring and you’d carefully craft missives that painted a picture of marital contentment while concealing the ugly truth. Of course you couldn’t tell them, not when everything hinged upon the success of this union and the delivery of an heir.

On some lonely nights, as you lay by yourself in the large bed, you regretted asking to leave his side. After all, your golden cage hadn’t expanded and you still exercised no authority.

Four weeks later, you felt relieved that your blood came. True it was your purpose to bear a child, but there was a part of you that feared your husband would simply leave you alone for good once he confirmed a pregnancy.

That afternoon, you gently denied him access to your body. “My courses have come,” you explained, crawling off his lap.

He was shocked for a moment, but then slowly released his grasp on you. He left the room without a word.

Later in the evening, feeling brave or perhaps missing his touch – which you’d never outwardly admit – you decided to break one of the rules by visiting his chamber.

You thought of things to say to him.

I’d like to spend more time together as husband and wife.

I think it would help our marriage to get to know one another.

I want to explore the estate and Giedi Prime.

Your musings were interrupted by the synchrony of female voices and laughter coming out of your husband’s room.

In a momentary fit of shock and fury, you ignored the guards and pushed open the doors.

He was polishing his dagger leisurely with three naked Harkonnen women laying across his bed.

“How dare you enter my chambers without permission,” he hissed. You didn’t miss the way he angled the tip of the dagger towards you.

“Who are they?” you demanded, voice unable to conceal your disturbance and a hint of jealousy.

“My pets, they require special attention,” he replied coolly, at which the harpies giggled in unison.

You understood that they were pleasure slaves. It was common for noblemen to have concubines; you just hadn’t expected your husband would as well. Did he spend the night with them? Is that what he did after leaving your bedroom every day?

You stood frozen in place, humiliated at your naivete. You meant nothing to him, another whore but adorned with an empty title. A guard swiftly followed you inside the chamber, roughly grabbing your arm and beginning to drag you out.

“Na-Baroness, you do not have permission to be in here–”, the rest of his sentence could not be heard as Feyd-Rautha slit his throat and sliced his arm. The man fell where he stood.

“Perfect timing,” he growled. “My darling pets were getting hungry,” he squinted his eyes at the dead guard as though he was lowlier than filth.

None of the other guards dared to touch you after that display.

Monster. Traitor. Killer.

When the three women ran down to divvy up the bits of his body, you had to fight the urge to puke. You stare at their markings, soulless ebony eyes, and sharp black teeth as they devour the man’s limbs, you’ve never felt more disgust or fear in your life.

Harkonnen. Monster. Traitor. Killer.

Feyd-Rautha approaches you, expressionless and without any hint of remorse. “Go,” he commands. “Get out unless you want to become fodder for them as well.”

As you turned to walk away, tears fell like raindrops, marking the path of your departure with silent rage and hatred.

#feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd x reader #dune fanfic #dune x reader #dune imagine #dune #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha imagine #feyd smut #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd fanfiction

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lady-phasma · 1 month

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Don't look away

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x F!Reader

Stand alone, cross posted on AO3, app 2,800 words

Warning: 18+, NSFW, others I should add but it's Feyd

Summary: Feyd lives rent free in my head now. I’m working on an unrelated piece with an ofc but I wanted to share a pwp because this man is essentially walking and talking sex. Enjoy. Please ignore typos. This was a rush job LoL

my gif

You hold your breath as Feyd-Rautha circles you, appraising. His head is tilted down and he looks at you from under his brows. Your chest is tight. He is almost exactly what you expected after watching him in the arena. Yet, not quite. He steps in front of you.

“She’s acceptable,” he says to the Reverend Mother without looking away from you. You begin to slowly exhale. His eyes slide down to your parted lips. He slowly licks his.

“Leave us,” he growls and the Reverend Mother, the younger Bene Gesserit sister, and his Harpies slip out of the room. You glance over your shoulder as the door slides closed behind them.

“No,” he whispers as he turns your head back toward him, guiding you with his hand on your chin. His blue eyes flick from your eyes to your mouth then back again. As he smiles, you see the tips of his blackened teeth for the first time and catch yourself staring.

“‘No’, my lord na-Baron?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He is standing close enough to hear you regardless. He nods once and drops his hand from your chin, grazing the backs of his fingers down your neck. He impertinently flicks the hood of your cloak off your head before dropping his hand to his side.

“You won’t look away from me. You will watch everything I do. No looking away, no closing your eyes.”

You swallow and attempt to nod but you feel like you cannot move. You want to move. You almost want to run for the door but you can imagine Feyd blocking your path with speed and stealth. You look at his mouth again, the lips curling, black teeth catching the light, and his tongue…

Feyd’s grip on your upper arm snaps your attention back. He undoes the clasp at your neck and slips the cloak off your shoulders, tossing it on the floor. You feel the goosebumps spread up your arms as the cool air of the room hits them. You are suddenly aware of the low neckline of your dress as you inhale. Your cleavage swells and you feel exposed, like prey out of cover.

He licks his lips, slowly. You fight conflicting urges to stare and to look away. You let your gaze travel up to his eyes. He isn’t looking at your face. He is stalking around you again, this time stoping behind you.

His hands are cool on your upper back and you shiver. Feyd makes a sound in response, a satisfied groan that is so low that you think you may have not heard it at all. His hands slip under your dress and are no longer gentle. He rips your dress down the back along the seam. He slings the shoulders of the dress down and you feel him step closer.

Feyd licks your neck, slowly, from the top of your shoulder to your ear. You bite the tip of your tongue to hold back a moan. You don’t want to like this, you don’t want to want him, but your nipples are hard and your body is a furnace.

“Let it out,” he growls in your ear, lips brushing against the lobe. “I want to hear you.”

You do. The sound comes out as a sigh and a moan. His reaction adds fuel to the fire in your core. Feyd growls next to your ear. His exhale tickles your cheek and you shiver again. Then you feel the fabric of his shirt press against your exposed back. Longing rolls over you as you realize you don’t want his shirt against your skin. You let the smallest groan escape your lips, a whining sound.

Feyd leans down and drags his lips over your shoulder. You almost relax into the feeling until you feel the pain as he bites down into the muscle. You gasp. It surprises you more than it hurts you. He releases his hold on you but his mouth stays against your skin.

Almost as unexpected as the bite, you feel the weight of his smooth head rest against your neck. He leans his weight in the crook of your neck and sighs. His hot breath makes you ache. His teeth are still grazing your shoulder. You want to relax into this feeling but he is too unpredictable.

Your mind races in an attempt to understand this man, to glean some insight. His sighs and groans make your core hot and tight. But the press of his teeth against your skin conflict with the gentleness of the press of his head against you. You can’t sort your thoughts and you can’t focus.

Suddenly, Feyd grunts and pushes away from you. Before you can decide to turn to look at him, he pulls your dress all the way off your arms and pushes it down your hips, leaving it in a puddle around your feet. You can’t think straight. You instinctively cross your arms over your breasts but it’s a fruitless action. He is behind you and you cannot cover the lower half of your body. You aren’t sure but you think the whimper you make is too quiet for him to hear.

“Stay,” Feyd growls. You do. You don’t move. You stare straight ahead at the wall opposite you and focus all your attention on listening, trying to decode the sounds Feyd is making behind you.

You hear cloth moving, one light thud, followed by another, then more cloth. Then you hear what is unmistakably bare feet on the stone floor. Then you feel him, not pressed against you (yet), but just behind you. He is still taller than you and though you cannot see him he feels like a monolith, looming and intimidating.

Feyd doesn’t speak as he runs his hands over your shoulders and down your biceps. He presses your arms against your sides and you acquiesce. Then his large hands cup your breasts as he steps forward into you, pressing the length of your bodies together. You feel lightheaded and sag slightly against him.

“Yes,” he hisses and somehow you can hear the smile in his voice. “Yes, my pet, that’s it.” His hands slide down the rises and hollows of your belly and hips. There is too much stimulus for you to focus on any one thing. The cool heat of his palms against your skin, the silkiness of his chest against your back, and the press of his erection against the curve of your buttocks.

This bliss is fleeting and you remind yourself of who he is, what you have seen him do. But the images of the arena can’t push the feeling of him on your skin out of your mind. You are almost powerless in his hands.

He guides you to turn and face him. You look up at him and involuntarily lick and bite your lower lip. For the first time you see hunger in his eyes. His head dips down and you fight the instinct to close your eyes as his lips press against yours. Not until you see his eyes close do you do the same. His mouth is bittersweet and gentle at first. Then his teeth nip and pull at your lip, his tongue pushes into your mouth, and he growls. You can’t stop yourself from pressing against his chest. Your hands find his arms as you try to get closer to him. As you pull him toward you the taste of blood crosses your tongue.

Feyd pulls his mouth back and you open your eyes immediately. The red on his lower lip is a stark line against the white skin. He slowly drags his finger across it. He gazes at the red on his fingertip as if he has never seen anything so entrancing before. Then he presses his finger against your lip and you pull the tip into your mouth. He moves before you can understand what is happening. His hand is in your hair, wrenching your head back. His other arm encircles your waste and he looks down at you, black teeth glinting in the pale light of the room.

His sneer is terrifying. Your fingernails dig into the flesh of his arms as you grip him. You don’t push him away; you can’t move. His eyes dart around your face searching for something. For defiance? He finds none and his mouth crashes against yours in a rough kiss that is mostly teeth and breath.

Something inside you gives way and you claw desperately at his arms. You kiss him back, finding his tongue with yours, inviting him into your mouth. His body is warm stone in your arms. You search for purchase, some place to anchor yourself, his chest, his arms, his neck. Then you push your hips forward, almost without thinking. His cock presses against your belly and he growls again. That sound draws wetness from between your legs and you moan back into his mouth. His hand begins to loosen its grip on your hair and you feel him smile against your lips. When you look at him you see it isn’t a kind smile.

“So that’s what you want, pet?” His smile is mocking, almost cruel. His voice is low and deep. His hand slides out of your hair to the side of your face. He caresses your cheek with his palm and rubs his thumb across your lips, lulling you with his touch.

“You want me to fuck you now?” Your response is the most undignified whimper. You are surprised by the desperation in the sound. As he straightens up to his full height you immediately miss the feeling of his skin. His smile softens briefly. Then he grips the back of your neck, hard, and walks you to the bed. Your heart pounds and you fear you won’t be able to keep your feet. If you trip you have no doubt he will drag you.

You look away from him, glance at the bed. He catches you and turns you to face him as you make the last few steps to the bed. It presses against the backs of your knees and you nearly fall. Feyd doesn’t let you. A brief flicker of understanding dawns on you: he doesn’t want anything to hurt you, only he can do that. It’s a perverse comfort, but his control is seductive. You don’t let yourself think “protective” but that’s the closest word. Then all words leave your mind as he lets go of you and you sink back into the bed.

Feyd kneels on the bed, spreading your legs with his knees. He isn’t gentle but his touch is soft. Every part of his hairless body is smooth and cool and graceful. His giant arms frame your field of vision as he props himself above you. His lower lip glistens and you want to risk defiance. You press yourself up to meet his mouth, to suck at that lip, bite and tease.

His reaction is quick. His hand presses you back onto the bed, wrapping almost entirely around your neck. You lick your lips and sneer up at him. His eyes flash with understanding. He grins. Using his hand on your neck and his legs to hold his weight he slips a hand between you and finds your slick center. He trails his fingers through your wetness and your last vestige of pride falls away. You actually whine as you raise your hips to find more of his fingers. He obliges for a moment and lets you press against them. Then he pulls his hand away.

The pressure on your neck is not yet uncomfortable. You let out panting breaths. Your mouth hangs open, eyes locked with his. Before you realize his hand is gone from your neck, you feel his wet fingers in your mouth and taste yourself. Without needing to be told you suck gently on them. You watch his face soften with pleasure. Barely opening his eyes, Feyd slides his fingers from your mouth, down your body, and under your thigh. He guides your leg onto his hip. As he leans his weight onto his other arm he guides his cock into your slick folds. You hold your breath. You don’t stop watching him and he notices. He looks at you, lewdly, as he strokes himself through your dripping cunt. You feel yourself blush, a bit too late for embarrassment, but there it is anyway. He groans as he presses the tip of his cock against your opening.

“Please, Feyd,” you groan. “Oh please.” His eyes widen at your words, at the sound of his name.

“Beg for my cock, pet. Tell me how much you need it,” he commands, his face only inches above yours.

“I need it so badly it hurts, na-Baron,” you watch for his reaction to the use of his title and you aren’t disappointed. “I need to feel you. Please.”

Feyd groans and his head dips lower, almost resting his forehead on yours as he begins to slide into you. The feeling is intense as he stretches you. You open your legs a bit wider, sliding your foot up the curve of his ass to his lower back. He presses deeper, harder, and you exhale his name. You don’t dare close your eyes yet but his are closed tight and his brow is furrowed. You gingerly slide your hands over his head and grip the back of his neck. You pull him to you slightly, giving him permission to rest his head against your neck. He rubs his head against you like a cat and you smile to yourself as you close your eyes.

Feyd’s hips press into yours, spreading you wide as he buries his face against you. He pulls out slowly and slides back in, so you can feel every inch of him. His free hand searches up your side to your breast and squeezes. His thumb grazes your nipple as he starts to pump into you. You gasp as he pinches your nipple, twists it slightly. You moan and press your lips against the smooth skin of his head.

“You take me so well,” Feyd mutters into your chest. “Such a good girl taking all of me.” The gravel in his voice makes you shiver and mewl. On his next stroke in, you slip your other leg over his hip and circle your legs around his waist. You pull him into you, as far as you can take him, the head of his cock pressing against your deepest core. He makes the most satisfied sound imaginable. You feel his lips, then his teeth against your collarbone. Your grip on his neck tightens as he slides out of you and rams back in, hard and quick.

With the next stroke, Feyd raises his head to look at you. You let your hands slide to his shoulders, still holding tight. There is no softness on his face now. His lust-blown pupils have swallowed the blue of his eyes and his brow is furrowed as he focuses on fucking you. He squeezes your breast quickly then moves his hand to your hair. He holds your head still and leans down to kiss you when he thrusts. You dig your fingernails into his skin and groan.

His control starts to falter and he exhales into your mouth. His hand in your hair gripping tighter as his strokes shorten and his pace quickens. You slide your hand down from his shoulder to touch yourself. His facial expression changes momentarily as he feels you grip tighter around his cock. You grin up at him.

“I need it, Feyd,” you whisper, holding his eye contact. You wait a beat and arch your back as your fingers and his cock bring you closer to your climax. “I need to feel you cum.” You groan. The wave of your pleasure begins to crest, your eyes squeezed tightly shut. Then you feel his teeth clamp down on the flesh above your clavicle. Your orgasm overtakes you as the sharp sensation clashes with the low, throbbing pleasure between your legs. You murmur his name through clenched teeth.

Feyd pushes through your spasms around his cock. Growling and grunting but not releasing you from his bite. He fucks you through your orgasm. His rhythm stutters and his grip loosens. He lifts his head, a string of spit pulled from his bottom lip. He grabs your head with both his hands and, panting just above your mouth, he cums. The heat fills you and you moan his name again. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours as he presses into you one last time.

Then he stills, his forearms holding him up, but lets some of his weight press you together so he is almost lying on top of you, not pulling out yet. He exhales deeply and raises his head. He looks down at you.

You can’t catch your breath and your legs are heavy. You let them slide down his hips. Your neck throbs where his teeth marked you. You want to wrap your arms around him, pull him into you, stroking and soothing this wild animal. Instead, you grab the back of his head and pull him down to your mouth and kiss him until you taste red.

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