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Timothée Chalamet for Bleu de Chanel ✨✨✨

📸 by Mario Sorrenti

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"precious. "

(paul atreides x female!reader)

Part 1: Destined to Be

Word count: 3.1k

Description: At a party in the Atreides' Caladan mansion, you, the lovely and honorable princess of House Corrino, are introduced to Paul Atreides. You two are attracted to one another right away. You and Paul have an unrivaled electric chemistry. You're wickedly smart, terribly funny, and perfectly flawless, and Paul is just the same. You and Paul become closer, both literally and figuratively, with every second that goes by. You both secretly concur that you would be more than happy to continue pursuing whatever odd thing was occurring between you two for longer than one night, no matter what it took.

Warnings: Fem!reader, princess!reader, Corrino!reader, mentions of sexual activites(no actual smut yet), brief mentions of alcohol and drugs/spice, (SPOILER: talk of political marriage)

Authors note: I worked hard to make sure this was mostly lore accurate with no spelling or grammatical errors. I PRAY that ya'll are okay with whatever format this is lol. This is my first fanfic EVER so I'm open to criticism!!! Let me know if you have any recommendations or anything, I'm planning to make this a pretty long series, but this part is sort of like a teaser to see if you even want any more parts. This DOES end quite abruptly. Anyways, enjoy!

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“--Duke Atreides, you have simply outdone yourself,” a peculiarly tipsy lady had said to Paul just a moment ago. Her drunkenness explained how she mistook the boy for Duke Leto, Paul’s father. Her jeweled fingers held a wine-filled crystal glass with a lipstick-covered rim above her head in celebration, her gaze drifting around the large dining hall, which was filled with people of all sorts. 

The people in the room were either high-class citizens of the Imperial House Corrino and House Atreides, nobles of the Landsraad Council, the wealthiest Ixian engineers, or the Imperium’s favorite spice smugglers—who were disguised as wealthy folk, of course. Everyone was dressed in their finest suits and gowns, drinking spice-melange-infused liquor and the famous Caladanian fine wine. At first glance, it was a party. A grand one at that. But in reality, it was just another boring political meeting disguised as an entertaining event—mainly so the elites’ children could grow more familiar with each other for when they will have to take on their parents’ roles. You and Paul fell under that category. 

“The compliments go to my mother; she did all the planning,” Paul replied plainly, eager to shake this strange woman off of him. You had seen many women come up to him, hoping to find some entertainment at this party. However, Paul remained firm and treated them all the same: dismissive but respectful. You notice his eyes dart around the room, searching for somebody else to converse with, before they land on Gurney Halleck, the Atreides’ weapons master, who was drunkenly singing and strumming the strings of his baliset. Paul bid the woman a hasty farewell, then paced off into the crowd of old nobles with leathery faces who reeked of spice melange until he was out of your view, so you decided to focus your mind on something else to pass time.

You were seated in a velvet-cushioned armchair at a small table in the corner of the dining hall, which you had found around 10 minutes ago to escape awkward, persisting conversation with some unknown young lord of some old forgotten land—whose breath smelled like manure and greed and some of the main course from tonight's meal. You presently sighed at the painfully recent memory, praying to some god that you would never again have to cross paths with whoever that was. To distract yourself, you studied the room. 

Glowglobes had been freshly lighted to appease light among the early dark, casting shades of orange upon the pristine marble floors that held swirling colors of the richest maroons and emerald greens and precious golds. Your eyes dragged across the floor to the other side of the room, which had an entryway cut out of the stone wall. Around a dozen foolish female guests were crowding the center of the Great Hall, grouped around the palace’s grand fireplace. An open blaze crackled there, emitting heat and small flickers of light onto jewels and beads and costly fabrics of the women’s dresses. They were all quietly cursing themselves for mistaking Caladan for a warm environment, wishing they’d brought their fine whale fur coverings—or at least had worn longer gowns. 

You stared at them, now realizing that half of them were the daughters of spice smugglers and the other half were most likely some descendants from the nobles of the Landsraad Council. One girl in an unsightly yellow-gold dress noticed your eyes upon the even more unsightly group, which evoked whispers to protrude from their thin lips and resulted in you turning your head in the opposite direction to avoid conflict—or worse, another unwanted conversation.

You sighed again, looking down at your bejeweled hands and fingers. You were observant. Too observant. You noticed every little detail, blaming the fact you were locked away in a palace for half of your life due to your father’s overprotective nature. Because of him, you normally succumbed to the library instead of pursuing a thrilling nightlife like other girls your age. But he had a good reason. He is none other than the Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, an extremely noble man who rules the entirety of the known universe. With you being the most beautiful of his many daughters, he felt he needed to protect you from the horrors of the Imperium. And to make sure you never had to rely on a husband in the future, he made sure you were very well educated in geography, politics, history, economics, and so on. Because of this, you were wickedly intelligent, which ultimately heightened your observant nature.

Looking down at your glass of wine, noticing how the dim lighting reflected off of the deep red color, you entirely miss the fact that someone sat down at your table. Maybe you aren’t so observant after all.

“I beg that you don’t talk to me,” a male voice muttered in your direction. You quickly looked up, slightly offended by his words. You then saw it was Paul Atreides, and he had not even looked at you yet. You guessed he was avoiding all forms of contact, assuming you were just some stranger, which was self-explanatory because you were, in fact, sitting in a corner by yourself. “This party is giving me a migraine; I feel as if a sandworm is burying into my cranium,” he whispered under his breath to nobody in particular.

You started laughing at his analogy but desperately tried to choke back the sound. You averted your eyes back down to the table, shaking your head as your lips remained curved in a smile. You found it humorous, the sight of a young noble of the great House Atreides so bored and agitated at a very important event he’d even taken part in hosting. You thought it was amusing that he’d decide to start a conversation with you, if you could even call it that.

“...You were not supposed to hear that; I apologize,” he said genuinely after looking up and ogling at you for a few long seconds. Shocked was an understatement; he was bewildered. He had been eyeing you since you arrived, noticing that you had been looking at him as well. He knew who you were; everyone did, but he hadn't realized it was you he had spoken so rudely to. Paul Atreides had seen plenty of pretty women in his years of living; however, none of them seemed to stack up to you in terms of the effect you had. You certainly lived up to the rumors he’d heard about you—you were every bit the desirable daughter of the Emperor. While he typically remained aloof to women in general—as you had observed earlier—he found himself a bit more engaged in your proximity.

“Relax, Atreides. I won't call my Sardaukar troops on you… yet.” You tease, turning towards him and looking into his green eyes. He had a terrifyingly charming face; his hawk-like features and emerald irises made it nearly impossible to look away from him. And his hair… His hair was perfectly tousled, his dark brown curls twisted and twirled in every right direction. Your smile widens; you are fully amused now, thrilled to finally converse with someone of interest to you. 

“And when does your highness plan to call them?” Paul posed in a faux-serious manner; his eyes sparkled with tease. He found himself shocked by both the sincerity of your amusement and the boldness of your words, which instantly tells him that you are, in fact, the Imperial princess of House Corrino, and you damn well have authority over him. He leans forward, resting his chin against his hand as he presses an elbow onto the table, regarding you with more attention than he had given any of the other guests this evening. His head tilts to the side as he studies the ineffability of your beautiful face, a lock of his hair falling into his eyes in the process.

“I will call them the next time you refer to me as ‘your highness,’ and I’ll be sure that my troops slice you to bite-sized pieces with their lasguns.” You jest, dramatically clutching your chest, your lips subtly curled upwards in a snarling frown in an attempt at disgust. Your ‘seriousness’ only lasts a couple of seconds before a wide grin returns to your face. Unfortunately or fortunately, it was hard to decide; you were growing more interested in Paul by the second.

“And you seem the type to follow through with your threats… Independent and well-calculated, just like your father.” He mused; his compliment was subtle, but he knew you’d detect it. He smirked at your reaction, bewitched by how your soft lips twitched upwards as you smiled. Yes, he certainly found you intriguing, a bit more than he should have.

“Threats? No, no. Favors, Paul Atreides.” You note back with a sly smirk, directing your attention to four women who were whispering in a circle. You gesture for him to look as well before you lean in and whisper, “It seems that group has taken quite an interest in you, don’t you think? You see that girl in the disappointing yellow-gold dress? That’s a spice smuggler’s daughter, and when I was grabbing a glass of wine from the beverage table, I overheard her sharing all of the things she wanted to do with you tonight.” Your words were woefully true, but you were only speaking them to further tease poor Paul.

“How unfortunate for her, then. I’d rather not associate myself with women of that sort. I have more… discriminating tastes.” Paul replied after biting back a laugh when you mentioned the daughter of the spice smuggler, the last person he’d ever want as a potential betrothed. He turned his gaze back to you as he spoke, his eyes focusing oddly more on your eyes, as if he wanted to memorize the way the colors in your iris blended together and created a reflection of your mind and soul. His stare wandered to your body, noticing how well you’d adorned an elegant dress of the finest silk. The future Duke was so drawn to you he could almost swear that you were a Bene Gesserit witch playing tricks on his mind. You had him enamored. He never wanted this banter to end.

“Discriminating tastes? Oh Paul, do tell,” you replied, a smirk plastered upon your masterpiece of a face. You are definitely enjoying this encounter. Paul Atreides was the only man at this gathering you’d be willing to associate with. You can’t help but glance at his lips every now and then as he grins, the sight so precious you would’ve compensated a painter one million Solaris to replicate his smile. You were falling deeper into whatever this was with each passing moment, prideful to know that you were the only one who could match these discriminating tastes he spoke about. 

“My tastes would have me avoid the… gold,” he gestures in the direction of the young lady, “and look towards more… priceless treasures.” He leaned back in his chair, directing his attention back to you. Paul held your gaze, a soft, proud smirk apparent on his face. He knows the implication of his words will be obvious, especially to you. It only took him a few seconds earlier in the beginning of your conversation to pick up on your wit and intelligence.

“Well, it seems you've unfortunately eliminated a hefty majority of the women in this room from your taste profile,” you murmur, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your lips. However, as his words sink in, it grows into a more genuine grin; it seems stars have even started to twinkle in your eyes. You have this Atreides ducal heir wrapped around your finger, and you are quite ashamed to admit that he has the same effect on you as you do on him.

“That must mean fewer opportunities for my taste to be satisfied,” he muses, the playful tone in his voice betraying the sincerity in his eyes. “Perhaps the one I'm speaking to will suffice,” he adds, his lips twitching upwards in a smug grin. Paul now looks at you, the princess of the Great House Corrino, like you're the only woman in the world. His stare is so intense, so prying and intimate, that you feel like a soft blue egg lying in a nest of your mother's feathers high up in a swaying tree, vulnerable.

“Perhaps,” you echo as a means of replying. You lean forward, almost instinctively, and place your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. Looking up at the handsome Paul Atreides, you try to dissect his soul through his eyes. Your eyes hinted ‘yes,’ but your tone lied and whispered, ‘We’ll see.’. Is Paul bright enough to pick the correct answer between the two? Hm. Perhaps this party isn’t so boring.

Paul notices the agreement in your eyes and the playfulness in your tone. His gaze holds yours a bit longer before drifting to your perfect, sensuous lips. God, he’d be lying if he said he didn't want more of you. But the most dangerous thing was that you wanted more of him as well. You two look into each other's eyes again for one moment… Two moments—before Paul decides to speak for the both of you.

“I find myself wanting to satisfy my more… carnal tastes,” he admits with no hint of shame; his voice drops to a lower tone, laced with one too many touches of desire as he looks at your lips once more, “if we’re speaking in honesty.” He smirks, his eyes flick back up to yours as he waits for your response.

“Well, Paul Atreides, if we are speaking honestly, I must admit that I would be more than willing to engage in satisfying both our carnal desires. But I… like you.” You whisper, leaning closer as a soft smirk paints itself across your face. “If anything were to happen between us after this party concludes, I wouldn't wish for it to be a one-time thing. However, given our family backgrounds, we’d have to keep this a secret, at least temporarily.”

His eyes widen slightly at your unexpected honesty. He smiles at the thought of your desires, the idea of satisfying them. He is more than intrigued, though slightly wary of your like for him. He leans toward you again, the distance between you narrowing.

“The feeling is shared. I find myself wanting more than just a one-time encounter with you, princess. But I understand your concerns. If we were to partake in… this,” he gestures between the both of you, “it would have to be kept quiet and discreet.” Paul leaned back, contemplating the situation. While his interest in you is undeniably present, he knows the risks and consequences. 

“I must admit,” he continues, but his eyes linger on your perfectly sensuous lips, “your beauty is unparalleled. However,” he pauses, meeting his eyes with yours once again, “the implications for our respective houses are not to be ignored.” Paul raises his glass of wine to his nose, giving it a swirl as he observes your reaction. “I don’t want you to mistake my actions as mere carnal desire. I have a genuine interest in pursuing a future with you, he admits, awaiting your response.

You find it excruciatingly hard to hold back a smile as he speaks. Happy was an understatement; you were thrilled to know he really wanted more than just a night of pleasure. While listening to his words and weighing your options, you have settled upon a very unique and possibly crazy idea. After a few more moments of thinking and processing, you speak.

“Well, Paul, it enlightens me to know you'd also like this to go further. I want something meaningful with you. But, as you said yourself, there are some possible negative outcomes that could happen between our houses if anyone discovers… this,” you gesture between you and him. “However, I have a solution. An idea, a plan. With some moments of consideration, I have come upon the fact that the one and only way we can pursue a relationship is through political, strategic marriage between our allying houses,” you propose, still putting the pieces together in your head.

“Marriage,” he echoes; the thought has crossed his mind in his moments of talking to you, but he hadn’t expected you to bring it up so quickly, “that is the only way we could pursue something meaningful without causing scandal or upsetting our houses.” He pauses, his mind processing the consequences and possibilities. “Political and strategic marriages are common. However, there are still questions… What about our personal desires? The physical chemistry between us is undeniable,” he whispered, his voice growing more sensuous by the second.

“Our personal desires would most definitely be quenched if we go through with this. Tonight we shall decide if our desires are worthy of being upheld so we can further discover if we would like to keep this a one-time occurrence or a long-term commitment—if you so wish, of course,” you whisper, subconsciously leaning closer to him. With each and every word he had spoken, you found yourself more inclined to touch him. Paul wasn’t stupid like the other men your age at this party. He was well-calculated, incredibly intelligent, and thoughtful. Oh god. Paul Atreides is already making you fall apart without even touching you yet. You quickly decide, before he could respond, to take a mental step back.

“I pray you don’t believe I’m thinking too irrationally; too far ahead…” You add, “I just can’t help but stare into your green eyes and dream,” you admit, much more than you should’ve. You embarrassedly put a hand on your forehead right after the words roll off your tongue so naturally. You feel oddly vulnerable with him, even though you have just truly met him. 

“No, I don’t believe you’re thinking too far ahead,” he reassured you, placing his forearms on the table to lean closer. “Perhaps it’s the wine, or maybe it’s something else,” he admits, his voice softer than ever before. He raises a hand, gently caressing your soft, warm cheek with two long fingers. “I’m also unable to look away from you. There is something about you that I can't ignore, a pull that I can’t resist. I think you know that, princess, he murmured, using your title in a strangely intimate manner. Your words had wrapped around him like a soft, seductive whisper. He could feel your physical proximity, and it was intoxicating; addictive, like spice. Paul couldn't ignore that; he couldn't shake the thought that he needed you in any way you were willing.

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how do i recover from this.