#Islamic Due For Love Marriage

[sansaorgana]

— FORBIDDEN FRUIT

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

SUMMARY — After your planet was conquered by The Harkonnens, you are sent to Giedi Prime as a war prize to marry one of The Baron's nephews. However, Baron Vladimir changes his plans at the sight of you and decides to take you as his wife. Feyd-Rautha does not give up easily, though.

REQUEST — (1) // (2)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It's finally here! I got carried away, not gonna lie... Look at the word count! 🙈 I might have forgotten about some warnings, just keep in mind the fic is dark and twisted 😝 By creating the Reader's homeworld and its customs I was loosely inspired by the mediterranean and islamic cultures but of course her physical appearance is not being described. 🤍

WARNINGS — arranged/forced marriage, blood, death, Baron Harkonnen being an absolute and non-consensual creep, Feyd-Rautha being non-consensual as well in the beginning, SMUT, fingering, oral, breeding (artificial and natural), incest undertones (they're not related but he calls her Aunt and she calls him nephew) + Feyd's traumatic past briefly mentioned, Reader is a few years older than Feyd but he is aged up to 20

WORD COUNT — 13,560 (🤡)

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Your homeworld used to be a Paradise. The sky was always blue, the weather warm but not too hot due to the light breeze coming from the Ocean. Cypress trees, pistachio nuts, olive branches and fish were what Pairi Daêza was famous for in the past centuries. It was a small planet that remained unnoticed and neutral in most of the conflicts. The Imperial Family loved to spend their holidays on Pairi Daêza and import their goods in a form of a tribute.

That was history. And although you were born on this beautiful planet, in your teenage years the whole world crumbled down and you were exposed to the true reality of the war. When one of the Imperial geologists had found a huge spice deposit under your planet’s Ocean, the destructive war began.

Your parents tried their best to avoid the conflict. They offered the Emperor to dry a huge part of the Ocean to harvest spice from there. In fact, your father the Sultan saw an opportunity of getting wealth and influence in this situation. And that probably was his downfall. The Emperor wanted all the spice for himself.

But The Emperor was not the one to get his hands dirty. No, he hired the most fearsome warriors and assassins to teach your planet a lesson. The Harkonnens.

While the battles were taking place on the ground, their special machinery was drying out the Ocean and harvesting the spice hidden underneath the water surface. The whole planet began to die off due to the lack of water. The crops were evaporating in the heat, people were starving and their homes destroyed. The Harkonnens were kidnapping your citizens to be their slaves and your father and his army were too weak to protect them. The subjects of the Sultan started a rebellion with the help of The Harkonnens and after long years of the ongoing and destructive war, it was the final blow for your father’s weak reign.

You were an adult woman now, standing proudly with a veil covering nearly your whole face with only eyes being on display like all unmarried women of Pairi Daêza traditionally wore. Surrounded from all sides by The Harkonnen army in your father’s throne room, holding your mother’s hand. The dignified and beautiful Sultana with the last piece of jewellery she had refused to give away – a majestic headpiece made of gold and sparkling gemstones of all the possible colours. They reflected the dim light creeping inside through the windows of the ruined Pairi Daêza Palace where you had been born and resided for your whole life. And where you would die with only a few the most loyal guards protecting you.

The front doors opened loudly and a huge, beastly looking Harkonnen man stormed inside with a few of his identical soldiers. You had heard of him, he was the terror of Pairi Daêza in the past few years. The Beast Rabban himself. He dealt with your guards completely on his own, feasting on their deaths with a psychotic smirk. You swallowed thickly at the size of his hands; so big and strong they could break you in half. You hoped for a swift and quick death – as a Shehzadi of Pairi Daêza you had your privileges and you counted that the mercy of Beast Rabban would be one of them.

He started to approach you confidently, his black armour stained with the blood of your guards, contrasting with his sickly pale skin. Your father stepped out to cover you and your mother with his own body as if it would stop the Beast. Rabban froze at the sight and let out a contemptuous laughter that echoed through the throne room.

“Your reign is over, Sultan (Y/L/N),” he announced. “Pairi Daêza and its spice is under The Harkonnen rule.”

“Pairi Daêza no longer exists. You have destroyed my world and you want to rule over the ruins,” your father drawled through the gritted teeth.

“We do not care about your world. We care about the spice. But you… You will be remembered as the Sultan whose reign was the last. The death of your world will forever be attached to your name,” Rabban pointed out and reached for his blade. “Come to me and fight like a man, I shall give you the privilege of defending yourself. Do not cling to the skirts of your wife and daughter. By doing so, you put them in the path of my blade.”

“Don’t hurt them,” your father approached him, despite your hands trying to stop him. “The planet and the spice are yours. You can kill me but spare my family,” he pleaded.

“Your wife will be given to the new Governor of Pairi Daêza and he will do as he pleases with her. Your daughter is our prize I will take with me to Giedi Prime,” Rabban laid his terrifying eyes on you and you froze out of fear. You’d rather die than be taken away to The Harkonnens. He could only see your eyes but it was enough for him to smirk and lick his lips in a disgusting manner.

This scenario was worse than the death you had been expecting.

“You will die,” he told your father and pointed at one of the deceased guards for your father to take his sword and be able to defend himself in a fair fight.

But you knew already it would be a slaughter you did not wish to see.

“Don’t kill him! Don’t kill my father!” You screamed and took a step ahead. Your mother sobbed behind your back.

“(Y/N), don’t…” your father shook his head.

“I will offer myself to you willingly if you spare his life and let him govern this planet in The Harkonnen name. He will obey your orders and so will I,” you promised.

It was common for parents to sacrifice themselves for their children. No one would ever question such an act. Why couldn’t it go both ways? You loved your parents just as much as they loved you. Especially in the last years of the war, you had grown very close having basically no one else by your side.

If you were all to die together, it was not a bad ending. But if they tried to kill your father, send you away and give your mother away to a stranger… you could not let that happen.

“What makes you think we care about women giving themselves to us willingly, Shehzadi?” Rabban snorted at you but he approached you slowly with his blade held up. “You’re confident to offer so little for wanting so much in return,” the tip of his blade lifting up the hem of your face veil as you trembled out of fear.

“There is no need for bloodshed. My father will bend his knee and I will go with you, my Lord,” you choked out, trying to hide your obvious fear.

Rabban tilted his head and laughed at you. Then, in one swift move he cut the veil open and you gasped as the fabric fell down on the floor, leaving you exposed in front of him and his Harkonnen soldiers. It was one of the greatest humiliations for the Pairi Daêza woman for her to reveal her face in front of a man outside her close family before her wedding. It was her husband who was supposed to lift the veil off of her face on their wedding day and see her first before every other man would. To take the veil off of an unmarried woman in an aggressive manner like this was the greatest disrespect that back in the day men had been punished for by the law.

Embarrassed and humbled down, you stood still, trying to stare back at the Beast Rabban with your shoulders straight and your lips pursed out of anger and determination.

“You are not mine for the taking. I am to take you to Giedi Prime and my uncle shall decide what to do with you. Most likely he will want you to be my younger brother’s bride because it is him who will inherit the title one day,” he told you and you felt a knot forming in your stomach.

You hated Rabban but he was the devil you knew from the stories and now personally as well. His brother was a new character in the story that you feared. What was he like? 

“Why is that not you?” You asked him. “You have just conquered a planet for your uncle, have you not, my Lord?”

“It is not I who argues with my uncle’s decisions,” Rabban snapped at you but you saw in his cruel eyes that you had touched a sensitive subject with your question. “Will you bend your knee, Sultan (Y/L/N)?” He asked your father.

He was staring at you with a terrified expression on his face. He couldn’t believe what you had just done. But you knew he wouldn’t throw a fist now. He would bend his knee because your father was a weak man.

Deep down, despite your love for him, you hated him for his weakness. Most of your problems, most of the failures in this war were caused by this trait of his. You couldn’t blame him, though. The Sultans of Pairi Daêza had never been trained to fight or lead military campaigns. There had been no need for that in the past.

“I, Sultan (Y/F/N) of The House (Y/L/N), pledge my allegiance to The House Harkonnen,” your father kneeled and bowed his head down.

You watched Rabban closely. He could accept this offer but he could also simply behead your father.

“In the name of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, may your service be accepted, Sultan (Y/L/N),” he nodded his head. “We didn’t know who to make the Governor of this wasteland anyway,” he snorted. “I guess this is solved. However, you will be watched carefully,” he squinted his eyes at your father. “I will leave my guards here and you will be spied on every second of your pathetic life, Sultan.”

“Yes, my Lord,” your father nodded. “What about the rebellion you helped to start? The citizens of Pairi Daêza do not wish me to stay in this Palace anymore.”

“You have my army to command now. You can slay them,” Rabban shrugged his arms and your father stood up clumsily.

“You helped them to start the rebellion against me and now you’re giving me your army to slay the rebels?” He asked to make sure.

“All we care about is your spice,” Rabban’s voice sounded casual and then he turned around to look at you again. “And your daughter,” he added with a smirk before approaching you and grabbing you by your arm roughly. You squealed as he started to walk you out of the room.

“Let me go!” You protested.

“You’re already breaking our arrangement, woman. You promised to be obedient,” he barked at you.

“I want to say goodbye to my parents,” you told him.

“It’s not the last time you’re seeing them. That is, if they play nice and don’t start anything,” he threatened as he looked at your scared parents.

Your mother risked it, though, and she ran up to you. Her shaking hands grabbed yours as she sobbed. She couldn’t say much because of her state but she didn’t have to.

“I will be fine, mama. I will survive and you have to as well, do you hear me? Otherwise my sacrifice won’t matter,” you told her and she nodded her head, silently choking on her sobs.

“That’s enough,” Rabban threw you over his shoulder swiftly like you were a sack of potatoes and he took you out of the Palace – straight to the huge Harkonnen ship that was destined to go back on Giedi Prime.

You were a war prize.

You didn’t know much about Giedi Prime except for scary legends and myths. The heavy industrial landscape was something you had not been used to nor was their black sun that was making everything on the planet black-and-white when you were spending time outside. Not that you had spent lots of time there. You were transported from the ship to the huge black fortress and into the chambers with a few female servants waiting for you. They bathed you carefully and put you in long black robes with a veil mimicking the ones that were traditional for the Pairi Daêza unmarried women. Only your eyes were visible when you looked at yourself in the mirror, but barely – the veil was decorated with dangling silver chains. They were making you look even more mysterious and kind of dangerous but the whole outfit felt like a mockery of the traditional robes of your people.

The unmarried women of Pairi Daêza were hiding their faces but their dresses were often made of a few layers of sheer and colourful materials. Just because they were under a cover, didn’t mean they were not cheerful and full of life. The dresses would be often decorated with lace, flowers or embroidery. They were flowy and ethereal when the women walked down the streets and all the married women who no longer had to hide their faces were envious as they remembered their younger days. On Giedi Prime you looked as if you were in a deep state of mourning. But perhaps you were. Your planet was destroyed, your family humiliated. And no one knew what would happen to you.

You were taken by the guards and followed by the servants to a huge throne room of The Baron Harkonnen. You had heard of him from your father so you expected the worst but his unnaturally huge and floating form still made the blood in your veins run cold. He was enormous and repulsing; sickly. Kept alive by the machinery behind him and the undying will to rule forever.

He was accompanied by Rabban who smirked at you when you walked inside. There was another man standing there, too. He was young; strong and muscular but also slim. Tall and proud in the way he stood. His face was full of cruelty and mockery but you had to admit he was rather attractive… at least for a Harkonnen male. His lips were full, his eyes reminded you of a snake but they were decorated with a long set of eyelashes. You hoped he was the younger brother that Beast Rabban had mentioned before.

You stood in front of the stairs leading to The Baron’s throne and you bowed down, waiting for his reaction.

“Shehzadi (Y/L/N),” he greeted you in a harsh, deep voice that sent shivers down your spine. “Finally I get to see you… Or not,” he added and you raised your head to lay your eyes on him. He was observing you carefully and so was the young man. “Take her veil off, Rabban, show me what you’ve brought here,” he snapped at his nephew and the Beast approached you. “She better be pretty enough for Feyd-Rautha if you decided to spare her father’s life for her,” The Baron teased him. 

“Who would have thought that women were your weakness,” the man named Feyd hissed at his brother and you got startled by the sound of his voice. It was identical to The Baron’s in a twisted and uncomfortable way that formed a knot in your stomach.

You felt oddly bad for the Beast Rabban. He was the one to conquer your planet and he was the one to take you. Yet, you were a prize that he had won not for himself but for his spoiled younger brother. You couldn’t quite understand the dynamic of this family yet.

He stood next to you and grabbed the fabric of your veil in his fist in his usual brutal manner. By the pace of his breath, you could hear that he was as nervous as you were. If The Baron would not like you, he would be punished for going soft on your father.

Rabban’s hand hesitated before tearing the veil off of your face. It caught his younger brother’s attention. He hissed and walked up to you with a short knife in his hands that he had been playing with as if out of boredom. He smirked at you and revealed black teeth that made you flinch at the sight. Your reaction only excited him.

“How long do I have to wait, brother?” He asked as he cut the veil open, impatiently. Rabban took a step back and allowed his brother to take a better look at you. The Baron tried to peek in but Feyd was standing right in front of you and covering your face completely from his uncle’s sight.

The young man hummed to himself and tilted his head both sides. He raised his hand up and grabbed your chin to squeeze it gently.

“How old is she?” He asked his brother as if you could not speak.

“Shehzadi (Y/N) is twenty years old like you are,” Rabban tried to recommend your virtues the best he could, like he was a slave seller.

“Five and twenty,” you corrected him confidently, not feeling any shame about your age. Rabban took a sharp breath in as Feyd gave him a scolding look.

“A bit old, isn’t it?” The Baron’s voice interrupted them.

Feyd looked you up and down with so much fire in his eyes that you started to feel your cheeks heating up. You had never been looked at this way not only because of the custom of covering your face but also because it was not a way that men on Pairi Daêza would court women in.

“I’ll take her,” Feyd shrugged his arms as he announced to his uncle. He turned around to look at him and you sighed out of relief. So did Rabban.

“Move aside, Feyd,” The Baron barked at his nephew, impatiently. “It is I who decide,” he added and Feyd took a step to the left, revealing your form to his uncle. You had both of the brothers standing on both sides and their hideous uncle looming over a few steps ahead of you.

In complete silence he was watching you for a long while, puffing on his pipe. Finally, he beckoned you over to come closer. You gathered the fabric of your skirt in your hands and took a few steps ahead with your heart pounding in your chest.

“I shall take her,” he stated as the whole room went dead silent.

“What are you talking about?!” Feyd protested and you chewed on the insides of your cheeks, trying not to burst into tears. “She is mine for the taking!”

The Baron was a disgusting creature but you were aware that being his wife would give you more power and influence than marrying any of his nephews. It would protect your family better, too.

And every power came with a sacrifice.

Still, your dignity wanted to join Feyd-Rautha’s tantrum. You had been expecting to be given in marriage to a young and healthy warrior. Not an old and sickly piece of greasy meat in front of you.

“Shut up, boy!” The Baron yelled at Feyd and you flinched. “Don’t startle, my Shehzadi,” he cooed to you in a malicious whisper. “As you can see, none of my nephews are worthy of you nor my throne one day. You shall give me an heir,” he told you and you nodded, obediently. Fighting him had no purpose.

Feyd was furious. You heard him walking out of the room angrily and slamming the door behind him.

“You have just made an enemy, my Shehzadi,” The Baron reached his swollen pale hand with the green and blue veins popping out. You gently took it and nearly gagged at the feeling of it.

“Me, my Lord?” You tried to bat your eyelashes at him. Your voice shivered out of fear and he smirked at you.

“Feyd-Rautha will no longer be the Na-Baron when our son is born. He will do everything to get rid of you and the child. You shall be careful, sweet Shehzadi,” he warned you. “I have my ways of keeping him obedient. When he’s not showing you proper respect, you will tell me, yes?”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” you nodded.

“Good,” he squeezed our hand gently and you felt your stomach turning. “Go, prepare for the wedding,” he let go of you and raised his finger to touch your cheek. It was getting difficult to hide your repulsion but on the other hand it was oddly satisfying to know that you were chosen by The Baron himself.

You bowed down and walked out of the room with the guards and servants. They all were staring at you with widened eyes, as shocked with the outcome of this day as you were.

You hadn’t seen The Baron for the past few weeks of the preparations for the wedding. In fact, you hadn't seen anyone. You had been kept a prisoner in one part of the fortress but you did not mind that at all because you had lots of servants and your chambers did not lack any luxury. The only thing you missed was nature – the greenery, the sound of birds, the feeling of the sun on your skin, the light breeze of the Ocean. But there was no way of coming back to it. Pairi Daêza had none of it anymore.

Spoiled as a child, you were harshened in your teenage years by the war taking place in your homeland. Despite your father’s weakness flowing in your blood, you had learnt how to adapt and survive. You would survive just well on Giedi Prime, you decided.

The only thing you dreaded about your marriage was the physical aspect of the union. However, you had been informed by the medic visiting you every morning about the nature of your future duties.

“These injections are supposed to prepare your body for carrying a son,” he told you after sticking a syringe with an odd liquid into your vein. “After the wedding you will be bred to carry The Baron’s heir, my Lady.”

“Bred?” You swallowed thickly.

“I will insert the seed during a swift and painless procedure, my Lady,” he assured you.

“So… I will not be…” You didn’t know how to say it without offending The Baron.

The medic knew, though. He looked up into your eyes as your face was covered with the black veil. The Baron had liked your homeworld’s tradition and allowed you to cover your face until the wedding.

“The Baron’s health does not allow such activities,” he informed you and you sighed out of relief. “Which does not mean he will not demand some… other duties.”

You nodded your head at him. Some other duties, whatever they meant, you could survive. It was the haunting image of him hovering over you or taking you from behind that was keeping you sleepless recently. You had come to Giedi Prime completely innocent in that subject but you made your Harkonnen servants tell you all about it. They were experienced, especially the ones who had been called late at night to Feyd-Rautha’s chambers. The young na-baron apparently liked sex a lot. The more you were finding out about him and his nature, the more glad you were that it was his uncle you were marrying. At least he was not so young; not so full of adrenaline and testosterone as his nephew.

Giedi Prime had not had a Baroness in a long time. The ceremony was about to be the grandest you had ever experienced. The leaders of the great houses had been invited – your parents amongst them. Even The Emperor himself had sent an envoy to take part in the event in his name. You had never expected to hold such importance in the Galaxy. After all, you were only a Shehzadi of a small and unimportant Pairi Daêza. The spice deposit had truly changed everything.

Your servant women worked on your huge wedding dress. It was black, too, of course. Everything was black. But there was some meaning behind it, in fact, since the wedding was an occasion to mourn your maidenhood and your previous life. The veil covering your face was decorated and attached to the upper part of your bodice, so when your face would be revealed and the veil taken off, your dress would stop being so modest and show off your breasts squeezed by a corset. You didn’t feel comfortable with that idea. Women on Pairi Daêza were not known for revealing their physical virtues in such a way. But Harkonnen women were their husbands’ prizes and trophies. You wanted to make The Baron proud because it would keep him happy. And keeping him happy meant the safety of you and your family. You didn’t want to play many games. You just wanted to survive.

You actually wanted to give him a son. Because giving him a son would seal your fate as The Baroness. Your position would be untouchable and that awful Feyd-Rautha could throw tantrums about it but it would be your son who would inherit the title of The Baron.

You were allowed to see your parents before the ceremony because they were supposed to leave early in the morning on the next day and in the evening there would be no occasion to be left alone with them like you were now. Alone in a room with your mother and father whose faces looked worried and exhausted. Their clothes were different than you remembered. Less colourful as if they were grieving, too.

“Are you alright?” Your mother asked you. She approached you and tried to lift the veil off but it refused to move.

“It is attached to the dress. I am fine,” you assured her. “Do not worry, my face is not bruised. You will see when he takes it off,” you nodded.

“It is an honour for you to marry The Baron himself,” your father smiled at you gently. “A great honour that he has liked you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” your mother scolded him. “It is awful, awful news. You know what he’s like. He’s destroyed our planet!”

“She can handle that for all the power she’s going to have now,” he shrugged his arms.

“How easy it is to say for a man,” your mother sighed. “You owe her your life.”

“I do and I am grateful,” your father nodded his head at you.

“And yet you demand more,” you whispered to him. He froze. “You demand of me to keep The Baron happy so he doesn’t get rid of you. But that is your part of the deal. You shall obey him and play nice as you promised. As long as you do that, there is no threat and my protection is not required.”

“If you think this way, why are you here, all dressed up to get married?” He raised his eyebrow.

“For mother,” you held her hands gently, “because you will not be able to protect her like me,” you added sternly.

Your father looked away, frustrated. He wanted to snap at you but he could not. Not when you were The Baron’s bride. You were no longer his daughter but almost another man’s wife. And the man was too powerful to disrespect.

The ownership of women. Once your father’s, then your husband’s. Freedom would come only in the case of a man’s death. And yet, men wondered why so many women were so angry and bloodthirsty.

“Time’s up,” one of the guards entered the room harshly. “Shehzadi (Y/N) is asked to attend the ceremony,” he announced and nodded at you. You nodded back and squeezed your mother’s hands for the last time before following the guard into the dark and cold corridor of the fortress, trying to keep your veiled head high.

Out of the people gathered for the ceremony, one pair of eyes was locked on you the most intensely. The dark eyes of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen were observing your every move, every gesture, every breath and every word. You felt suffocated by his gaze. It was full of fire like the first time he had seen you but also full of hatred and contempt. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to claim you or kill you. Perhaps both answers were true. You wouldn’t be surprised after hearing all the stories about him.

You feared him the most out of all The Harkonnens. Beast Rabban was the devil you knew and you were his weakness because you were the prize he had conquered himself. The Baron was terrifying and dangerous but he was rather calm and he treated you like a pet so as long as you were quiet and obedient, he did not take pleasure in tormenting you. Feyd-Rautha was different. He was psychotic and your wedding to his uncle was making him lose the greatest deal – his inheritance.

The worst part of the wedding ceremony was the kiss. Not that The Baron had been particularly passionate about it but something about his lips touching yours – even though briefly – was making your insides twist. Perhaps being married to him wouldn’t be as easy to survive as you had been hoping.

When The Wedding Games had begun, Feyd-Rautha joined them eagerly with all the fierceness a warrior could possess. It was an old and dreadful tradition full of blood and violence, a display of power and murderous Harkonnen nature. The men, usually gladiators, were fighting for life and death. Only one could remain and become the winner who would be forever remembered. When his nephew joined the fight, your new husband didn’t look very pleased and he followed every movement of his boy carefully, keeping his eye on the guard, too. He was scared of losing his heir after all.

You watched Feyd-Rautha fight as well. His moves were swift and confident. It was bringing him joy to both hurt and be hurt. He was playful in combat – smirking, winking, occasionally looking back to make sure you were watching. And whenever he was the one to take the blow, he would let out a laugh and hiss in pleasure. He was an odd, scary creature because he had no fear of any sort of pain. Not even death most likely.

Eventually, he killed the last opponent right in front of your eyes, wanting for you to flinch, you suspected. You did not give him such satisfaction. All the years of the war on your planet had made you immune to the sight of such violence and death.

He let out a triumphant yell and raised the bloody knife before bowing down and reaching his hands out with the blade towards you. You stood up and accepted his offering as you had been taught by your servants the past few weeks during your preparations.

“Thy display of power and bravery has been noticed, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you told him the words you had learnt by heart.

“For my Baroness I will shed the blood of my enemies,” he looked up intensely at you and you swallowed thickly. You hated when he was staring like this. You only nodded and turned around to hand the bloody blade to one of the guards who would secure it. The blade would later be on display in the Memory Room.

You sat back down and forced a small meal upon yourself. In the meantime, your husband had already left the party. Not that you minded.

Feyd and Rabban were sitting nearby. Both were staring at you but the older one actually looked as if he was sorry for you. He hadn’t spoken a word to you ever since his uncle had decided to be the one to marry you. It was nearly funny how back on Pairi Daêza everyone feared the Beast Rabban but here on Giedi Prime he was the least important pawn of the game.

Around midnight, one of The Baron’s servants leaned in to whisper into your ear to inform you that your husband had been waiting for you in his chambers. You swallowed thickly and nodded your head before standing up and leaving the dining room as fast as possible.

In the dark corridor you slowed down, though, not wanting to walk too fast and approach the dreaded room too soon. The guards were not following you but you knew the way, you had been taught it by your servants even though your chambers were in a different part of the fortress. Now, as The Baroness, you would get the new ones – even more splendid and luxurious. But you had been told you would not share them with your husband which was a great comfort.

Halfway there you heard footsteps behind you and you angered. Whatever humiliation was there to come, you did not want any witnesses. The corridor was dark and empty and yet some guard decided to follow you. You turned around furiously, ready to scold him. But it was no guard. It was Feyd-Rautha.

He leaned on the wall with a smirk and squinted his eyes at you.

“What do you want?” You asked him and clenched your jaw.

“Like a sheep for slaughter,” he snorted at you.

“That is none of your business, I believe,” you straightened yourself and raised your chin up.

He didn’t like your remark as he moved away from the wall and approached you quickly. In no time you felt his face looming over yours, mere inches away.

“I know what he’s going to do to you,” he whispered as you tried to remain cool but his words made you terrified. There was an odd sparkle in his eye, like he was enjoying your torment. He probably was.

“Fuck me?” You tried to pretend it didn’t bother you.

“Well, well, well, look at how dirty your mouth can be, Shehzadi,” Feyd-Rautha grabbed your cheeks to squeeze them and your eyes widened at his insolence.

“To you, I’m The Baroness,” you mumbled out.

“Sure you are, little snake. How else should I call you? An aunt?” He teased. “I shall,” he added. “No, he’s not going to fuck you. But he’s going to touch you and this reeking, slimy feeling won’t ever leave your skin. You will feel him always,” he moved even closer to you. You wondered how he could know such things. Then you felt how hard he was underneath his leather pants. You were scared he would hurt you now, which would make your husband furious and toss you aside, surely. 

“Sounds like you’d like to watch,” you drawled, regretting it instantly. He took a sharp breath in and pushed you against the wall, still holding your cheeks but now you were trapped between his body and the cold marble.

“Don’t be disgusting,” he warned you. It was surprising there were things he was finding gross. He didn’t look like the type. “You’ve no idea what’s waiting for you, aunt,” he hissed.

“Aw, you’re worried?” You cooed and he let go of your cheeks angrily. He remained close to you, though. You felt his hot breath on your face. He smelled like blood and leather.

Feyd’s hands dropped to your waist. Before you could stop him, he was pulling up all the layers of your dress, desperately trying to get the access between your legs. You grabbed his wrists, trying to stop him quietly.

“No, no, no, please, no,” you whispered in a panic. “Please, don’t hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, aunt. He’s going to do it,” Feyd snorted at your words and froze when all the layers of your dress that had been on the way were finally moved aside. A cold shiver went down your legs at the feeling of your exposed thighs. Feyd cupped your womanhood covered with black silky underwear. You gasped at the feeling as your eyes widened when you looked at his face. His lips curled into a smirk as you shook your head.

“Relax, Baroness, I’ll ease you for him,” he told you as his fingers hooked on the edge of your underwear. You felt his cold fingertips brushing your pussy softly and a set of shivers went down your spine at that sensation.

You didn’t know how to feel about it. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you were getting dizzy. Your mind wanted him to stop but your body did not. Despite the lack of experience, you knew that The Baron would not make you feel the same way as his young nephew would.

“I won’t fuck you,” he let out a raspy whisper, “he would kill us both for that.”

“He wouldn’t know,” you told him and Feyd tilted his head at you. “I’ve been examined by the medic this morning to prove my innocence. I doubt he will examine me now again.”

“Believe me, he would know,” Feyd let out a laugh as he moved your underwear aside and exposed your womanhood. It was too dark for you to feel ashamed of it but it still felt incredibly wrong. Yet, you didn’t ask him to stop. Not that it would change anything.

He raised his hand up to his full lips and licked them while staring deep into your widened eyes. Then he put his hand between your legs again and began to touch you in your most intimate place. You sighed at the feeling of his wet and cold fingers trying to get between your folds.

“Open your legs further,” he ordered and your body obeyed by moving the legs more apart before your mind could take over and make a responsible decision to run away. Not that you could run away because with his free hand he grabbed one of your wrists and pinned it to the wall above your head.

Once he got a better access to your pussy, Feyd focused on massaging your sweet spot that made your eyes roll to the back of your head, occasionally dipping his finger carefully inside of you to gather some of your wetness. You moaned softly and dug your fingernails into his bicep, feeling a close release. He was smirking at how fast he could make you reach your high but you didn’t care. You hated him but his fingers were skilled, making you stand on your toes as the muscles of your abdomen tensed, desperately wanting more friction.

“I’m gonna…” You gasped and that was when he took his hand away, fixed your underwear and took a step back, letting the folds of your dress fall down to their place. It took you a moment to collect yourself and realise that he had left you without a release but with a deep and urgent need. “What was that?” You asked.

“Now it won’t hurt when my uncle does the same to you, aunt. Maybe you’ll even cum with his fingers inside you as you remember my fingers on your cunt,” Feyd chuckled contemptuously and licked his fingers clean as you watched with terror in your eyes. “Sweet. Like I’ve imagined a cunt from Paradise to be,” he commented and turned around to walk back to the party, leaving you breathless and dizzy with an ache between your legs.

For a while you forgot where to go. You kept taking wrong turns before finally approaching the doors leading to The Baron’s chambers. At your state you weren’t even scared anymore. Feyd-Rautha had eased your mind indeed and reduced your body functions to one primal need.

You pushed the door open softly and entered your husband’s chambers. They were nearly empty and very cold. In the middle of it, there was a big bathtub full of a black substance. He was bathing in it and puffing on his pipe as he squinted his eyes at you.

“What took you so long, Baroness?” He asked and you cleared your throat, trying not to sound too shook up. The sight of him in that bathtub made your desire much lesser, though. Even the memory of Feyd-Rautha’s cold fingertips brushing your clit lightly and teasing you with pleasure could not make you feel the same excitement again.

“I’m sorry. I got lost,” you answered, which had been only half a lie.

“Don’t worry, Baroness, you will soon remember the way,” he wasn’t angry and he beckoned you over with a move of his wrist.

You approached him obediently although your limbs were getting numb. You were left completely alone with him and you had no idea what he would want now from you. As your husband he could demand anything and you’d have to follow.

“Undress yourself,” his voice was softer than when he would address his nephews but it was still an order as he watched carefully with squinted eyes.

You nodded shyly at his words and began to clumsily take your gown off. It was a complicated piece of fashion and you did not have any servants to assist you. However, your husband was not rushing you, he simply watched and he was visibly content.

When you were naked, you covered yourself with your hands as you stood in front of him. He looked up from his bathtub and puffed on his pipe with a smirk.

“No, no, don’t hide,” he shook his head. “Come, join me,” he invited you in and you swallowed thickly at the black slime he had been bathing in. You doubted it was harmful but you didn’t want to sit in the same substance as him. “Join me,” he repeated, more sternly this time and you bit on your lower lip as you nodded and entered the bathtub.

Your body was shaking but the odd liquid was nicely warm and relaxing. The feeling of it helped you ease a bit. You sat as far away as possible from him.

“Come closer, Baroness. You see, I’m old now and not of the best health. I sadly cannot perform my marital duties and satisfy you like a husband would,” he pretended to feel sorry for you. “But I want to play with you a little and admire my new wife,” he reached out his hand and you took a deep breath in before holding it and letting him pull you closer. “Do you know why I took you for myself?” He whispered and you shook your head. “Because he wanted you so much.”

When you left The Baron’s chambers, there were two scared female servants waiting already behind the doors. At the sight of you leaving in a hurry, they entered – most likely to finish what you had started. You hurried to the rooms that were supposed to be yours now. They were empty since your own servants would come in the morning.

You had been barely dressed because you wanted to leave his room as fast as possible. This time taking your dress off took you a few seconds and you jumped into the bathtub in the bathroom and filled it with warm water. With a sponge laying on the counter you started to scrub your body harshly, causing the skin to bleed in a few places. You wanted to get the black slime off of you and – most importantly – your husband’s touch.

Feyd had been right. What his uncle had done to you was not the worst – he had been touching and teasing, sniffing your scent and caressing your skin as he had whispered about the beauty of youth and innocence. But the fact that it had been him doing so, it made it the most disgusting thing you had ever experienced. You gagged at the very memory of it and now, after your wedding night, you no longer felt comfortable with the idea of being bred with his son even if it would be an artificial conception.

You started to sob uncontrollably. You hated The Harkonnens. They had destroyed your planet and your childhood. Now they destroyed your innocence and womanhood. You would never get free of them.

But death was not an option. It would be an easy way out. You had to be strong.

The medic’s procedure had truly been quick and painless but you felt disgusting leaving the medical wing of the fortress knowing that The Baron’s seed might be already growing in you. To make it worse, on your way back to your chambers, you spotted Feyd-Rautha coming back from the training yards. He smirked at the sight of you as you froze, still remembering the last night’s blasphemous act of intimacy that he had performed.

“Aunt,” he greeted you with a nod of his head.

“Nephew,” you answered in a similar manner as you looked him up and down.

Sweaty from the combat and still wielding a blade, he looked incredibly magnetic at that moment. His youthful and fearless energy was unfortunately drawing you in. The way he was staring at you made you remember how good his fingers had felt on your pussy and it brought the heat up to your cheeks. You wished he would stay away from you because his very presence was a torment.

“How was it?” He leaned in when he spoke to you, his eyes carefully watching your figure. You did not give him an answer. “Did you cum?”

“You’re an insolent brat, Feyd-Rautha,” you told him sternly and he straightened himself. You spoiled his fun by not being scared nor disgusted. “I want you to stay away from me since I might already be carrying your uncle’s true heir,” you added.

The playfulness of his eyes turned into anger very quickly. He pointed at your abdomen with his blade and you flinched. The guards standing a few steps behind you, hurried to your side immediately.

“You will soon realise, aunt,” Feyd drawled, “that he is your enemy – not me. He will destroy you like he destroys everything he ever lays his hands on.”

“Like he destroyed you?” You raised your eyebrow curiously and he lowered the blade. His jaw clenched but there was a shadow of hurt in his eyes at that moment, which surprised you. You didn’t expect a man like him to ever feel hurt.

Feyd-Rautha did not reply to that. He walked away without a word, followed by your guards’ eyes.

“Are you alright, my Lady?” One of them asked you and you nodded. “Shall we tell The Baron about the incident?”

“Yes,” you nodded. “His nephew’s antics must be tempered.”

Six months had passed since your wedding day and you still were not carrying The Baron’s heir. Your husband was growing impatient and the only thing stopping him from getting angry at you was the medic’s declaration that it had not been your fault but the seed’s quality was weak due to your husband’s age and condition. Even enhanced artificially with the Harkonnen science, it could not settle well in your womb. At this point you were so drugged with their injections to the point that you wouldn’t be surprised if a simple touch of any other man than your husband would put a son in you. How ironic.

You had no idea what The Baron had done to Feyd-Rautha but after the corridor’s incident the young man had been avoiding you. He had been watching you carefully from afar with eyes full of hatred like an ominous shadow following you behind wherever you would go. But he would not approach you nor talk to you unless he had to in an official situation. He would always address you with respect as The Baroness or Aunt. You had noticed that it brought him a twisted pleasure to call you by that name.

Your husband hadn’t been spending much more time with you either. He would be next to you during the official events and he would ask you to join him in his chambers about once or twice a week but other than that you had been spending your days alone with nobody but your female servants and male guards, occasionally with the medic. It was a lonely life but at least you weren’t exposed too much to the dreadful Harkonnens… except for the nights you were expected to perform some sort of marital duties.

No amount of time had made you used to The Baron’s touch. You would flinch every time he caressed your body or admired it while whispering the filthiest things. But after the first month your body had developed a defence mechanism of dissociation during those acts.

Technically speaking, though, after six months of being The Baroness Harkonnen, you remained a virgin. The marriage had not been consummated properly so The Baron could divorce you without consequences any day. Giving him a son was the only thing that would legitimise your union. And as much as you dreaded his spawn growing inside of you, you wanted to secure your position. The frustration of not getting pregnant had brought you to tears many times before.

It did now as well. An hour after finding out that the last week’s procedure had failed and the seed had not settled in your womb. The medic had been both sorry for you and himself because he had known that The Baron’s rage would mostly be aimed at him for not doing enough. Soon, though, you were sure, it would reach you as well.

Your chambers were being cleaned at the moment and you wanted to be alone so you wandered to a different part of the fortress and hid in one of the empty study rooms. You kicked your shoes off and sat on a black leather armchair by the wall as you sobbed into your hands, curling up with your feet up on the seat. You felt so small and unimportant at that moment; you missed home and you missed your mother’s embrace. You missed any sort of affection.

Focused on self-pity you did not hear the doors opening. You only startled at the sound of them closing loudly and you froze at the sight of Feyd-Rautha who had just entered the study room. At first, he stiffened seeing you as well.

“What are you doing here, aunt?” He asked, carefully.

“It is none of your business, go away,” you ordered, trying for your voice not to break and reveal your crying state.

“You cannot command that,” he snorted at you.

“I am your Baroness. I can and I will,” you sniffled your tears back and you hugged yourself tighter as if you wanted to protect yourself from him.

Feyd ignored your words, though. He approached you confidently and smirked after realising what you had been doing.

“Yes, feast on the sight of me crying,” you snapped. “What a pleasure it must be for you. Let me please you further, dear nephew. I am still not expecting an heir that would take your place. Happy now?” Your voice trembled.

“Look at you, you’re glowing,” he crouched down to be on your level as he whispered in an oddly seductive way. You furrowed your brows at his words and he reached his hand out to brush your cheek stained with tears. “They’ve injected so many hormones into you, Baroness, you’re practically begging to be fucked. You’ve no idea what the smell of you does to men around you…” He brought his finger to his mouth and licked the tip softly. “The taste… Even your tears are an aphrodisiac,” he looked up at you and you swallowed thickly. It was making you uncomfortable but for the first time in a long time you felt seen. “What a torment it must be. Do you touch yourself, aunt?” He asked and the insolent question snapped you back to reality.

“I’ve no idea how he punishes you but you’re asking to be punished again,” you warned him.

“I can show you how he punishes me,” Feyd did not wait for your answer as he took his black shirt off, revealing his pale and strong chest. His hard muscles were simply beautiful, you had to admit it. But when he turned around to show you his back, he revealed dozens of thin scars scattered all over. Some were white and bumpy, visibly old. But some were more fresh and still reddened. You hissed at the sight and he turned his head around to look at your face.

“I’m sorry, I did not know…” You admitted and reached your hand out to touch some of them gently. You let your finger follow the lines and he smirked.

“Don’t be sorry, aunt. I enjoy the whipping,” he grabbed your wrist and turned his body in your direction again.

“It is hard to believe, Feyd-Rautha,” you admitted. “I thought his punishment was based on threats.”

“His methods are more sophisticated,” Feyd sneered. “Now, I’ve revealed myself to you, Baroness. Will you reveal yourself to me?” He asked and you furrowed your brow. “Do you touch yourself?” He repeated the question that caused your cheeks to heat up.

“Sometimes,” you answered. “I start but I never finish because somewhere in the middle I get haunted by the visions of his hands touching me and they make me sick,” you whispered your secret.

“Poor aunt, you must be so tense,” Feyd cooed to you and let go of your wrist. “So ready and eager to welcome a child in her womb and yet so unsatisfied.”

You hated to admit that he was right. The amount of hormones that had been injected made your breasts and womanhood sensitive, a single brush of your servant’s hand during the bathtime was enough to fill you with desire. Most of the time you were walking around with an itch deep between your legs, a heavy burden that could not be removed by any means.

Now, Feyd-Rautha being so close to you and talking to you in such a manner was not helping. In fact, it was making your condition worse.

“What do you care?” You asked. “I thought you don’t want me to carry him a son. If he tossed me aside or even killed me, it would be your victory,” you pointed out.

“My greatest victory would be humiliating him by putting my son in your womb,” Feyd watched your reaction carefully but you didn’t even flinch at the sound of that.

He was young and so full of life. You were sure he’d succeed during the first try. It would secure your position and keep The Baron Happy.

“What if he finds out? He’d kill us both,” you bit on your lower lip.

“And you think I would allow that?” He snorted at you, revealing his black teeth. You were so shook up that in this state you even found them attractive. The fact they were so black, so different, so extraordinary, symbolising his brutality. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted his toxic saliva to poison your innocence. You wanted to be trapped under him as he ravages you.

He had to notice the shift of your gaze, the way you face changed its expression. He smirked triumphantly, already knowing that you craved him.

“The medic… He will see I was deflowered,” your last hesitation made you speak up your concerns.

“The medic?” Feyd-Rautha chuckled contemptuously. “The same one who is working for me? The same one who is making sure that my uncle’s seed is not succeeding?”

“Wh-what?” You choked out but he only smirked as he shushed you.

“Don’t forget you were supposed to be mine, little snake. I do not give up easily,” he admitted and with one rapid movement of his strong hands he pushed your legs apart as your thin silky dress pulled up, revealing you to him. “Let’s give you a quick release before I properly breed you. You must be in such pain and torment,” he cooed.

Your eyes widened at his actions but you did not protest. Your limbs were getting numb out of the overwhelming desire and feeling his breath on your pussy was nearly enough to make you cum on spot.

Feyd dropped to his knees and leaned in even closer, biting the soft flesh of your thighs gently with his black teeth and leaving trails of saliva. You felt your womanhood pulsating, begging for his attention. He had to notice the twitching muscles underneath your underwear as well as he chuckled and took it off of you greedily. He froze for a moment with his eyes fixed on his prize and he slowly licked his lips.

“So swollen and eager. The smell is enough to put only one thought in my head,” he admitted. “Make you swell with my seed. Come here,” he crooned in his coarse voice that sent shivers down your spine as he grabbed your ankles and pulled you closer to the edge of the armchair’s seat. He threw your feet over his muscular shoulders and opened his mouth to stick out his long and slim tongue to show it off for you as you took a deep and shaky breath in.

Feyd leaned in and buried his face between your wet folds that had been anticipating any sort of release for weeks now. You gasped loudly at the sensation of the tip of his tongue tickling your sensitive sweet spot. His mouth was so skilled that he did not require the assistance of his hands as he placed them flat on your thighs to keep steady. He would gather your wetness with his tongue and then dip it all inside of you, making your back arch and hips rise slightly for more friction. There were times when his whole face was buried deep into you but he did not even flinch from the lack of air as he was devouring you, licking you completely clean like a starving dog and then focusing again on your swollen clit. Whenever he teased it, you were sure you’d cum now but then he would move his tongue away over and over, keeping you on the edge.

Your gasps and soft moans filled the room. You were trying to hold yourself back a little, ashamed of being so displayed for him but on the other hand it was him kneeling down to lick your pussy like a servant. It was you who was in control and the thought of that alone was enough to turn you on even more.

Your hands had been squeezing the armchair’s leather fabric but you dared to place them on the back of Feyd’s bald head and he did not protest. In fact, he moaned at the feeling as a pleasurable vibration went down your body. Your toes curled when you pushed his face even deeper and you felt the pressure of his nose on your clit when he was fucking you with his long tongue.

The overwhelming desire stripped you out of shame as you began to move his head up and down, rubbing your pussy all over his face while your moans grew higher and louder. Fuck it, you thought, you deserved it. After months of such a sad and awful marriage, being The Baron’s trophy wife, unsatisfied and yet violated by his repulsing touch, you deserved to cum on his handsome nephew’s face. It was the least Feyd-Rautha could do to make it up for you.

With a loud moan, shaky breath and trembling legs you finally reached your peak. Although the movements of your hips came to a halt and your hands stopped pushing his face, he was relentlessly sucking on your clit throughout your high, until you begged him to stop and he hesitantly let go of your glistening pussy with your sticky juices vulgarly dripping down his chin as you looked down at him with hazy eyes.

“I could feast on you for days, Baroness, you’re as sweet as a ripe fruit from your homeworld,” Feyd did not bother with wiping his face. He took your limp feet and calves from his shoulders and threw them back on the floor before placing one last kiss upon your wet mound as your pussy twitched uncontrollably in an aftershock.

You didn’t know what to say. You could see the hunger in him, he expected more and you wanted it, too. You wanted to feel his cock inside of you, you wanted him to fuck you like The Baron could never do.

“Claim me, Feyd-Rautha,” you ordered in a weak voice. “I want to remember with satisfaction each time he asks for me that it is you who have claimed me and fucked me. Put your son in me and smile every time you see me walking swollen with your seed as you know that it is yours and not his. If you’re a good boy now, I might reward you and let you feast on my fruit every night in my chambers,” you promised, like it would bring him more pleasure than you, which was not true at all. You craved it as much as him, if not more.

Your words elicited even greater hunger inside of him as he grabbed you by your ankles and pulled you down on the cold marble floor. The coolness of the stone brought some relief to your feverish body, your dress was still pulled up and you watched Feyd positioning himself above you as you bit on your lower lip and realised he would truly claim you now, on the floor of an empty room in secret. There was something barbaric about it and the fact you were an innocent lady from a planet known as Paradise who would be taken by such a brute warrior was making you go dizzy. You didn’t even fear the pain that would come with it because you wanted it – you wanted him to stretch you out and fill you.

When such thoughts were invading your mind and exciting you all over again, Feyd got his cock out of his leather pants and stroked it at the sight of you waiting for him with your legs open. With his free hand he gathered the wetness of your pussy and coated his length with it before hovering over you with his face inches away from yours.

“It’s going to hurt, my Lady,” he warned you with a smirk, there was absolutely no worry in his voice.

“I want you to hurt me,” you nodded and grabbed his biceps, ready to dig your nails in them as he’d slide inside.

Your spent and overstimulated pussy was relaxed enough to welcome him but the burning sensation made your back arch and your eyes roll, you were sure your fingernails made his shoulders bleed but you did not care. The pain was overwhelming and mixed with pleasure, you felt as full as you could and yet he still had more and more to give you, sliding it inside slowly, inch by inch, with a raspy moan and his forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re so tight,” Feyd breathed out, “open your eyes,” he commanded and your eyes fluttered open to stare into his cold and intense gaze. “I want you to look at me when I fill you up with my son,” he added and you nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak but already getting used to his size as if your pussy was made for his cock.

Once you nodded, he started rutting into you with all his force without any warning. You dug your fingernails even deeper into his flesh and moaned out of pleasure as the spasms of pain travelled through your body. His moves were fast and rough, relentless; nearly automatic like he was a machine and not a human. With each stroke he was hitting a spot inside of you that was making you gasp and writhe underneath him, leaving you a drooling and whimpering mess. Feyd used one of his hands to grab your cheeks and squeeze them gently to shut you up before joining his lips with yours in a sloppy and possessive kiss. You could taste yourself on him and you moaned at the taste – it was sweet indeed from all the hormones you had been injected with. It was no wonder he got addicted already, you would get, too. In fact, you explored his mouth with the tip of your tongue in order to clean it off of your juices completely, greedily licking them away from him as you were letting out muffled moans into his mouth.

His hips were brutal and his mouth was aggressive but you wanted nothing else but this. Hearing the stories about his sexual appetite you had been scared but now you wanted to laugh at your old self. It was nothing to fear, it was something to anticipate.

The fact that the act was forbidden, that he was your husband’s young nephew and a rival of some sort, was making it even better. You were welcoming each of his rough thrusts with eagerness, hoping it would fill your already swollen womb. Your whole body was ready to take the seed and as much as you dreaded the idea of carrying your husband’s son under your heart, you found the idea of carrying Feyd-Rautha’s heir much more appealing. If he would be like his biological father, he’d be handsome and fearsome, psychotic and depraved. You’d see your lover in him – not your husband – and it was giving you satisfaction.

Feyd’s hands dropped to your breasts as he tore the fabric of your dress open to expose them for himself to squeeze and pull on your hard nipples. You broke the kiss and cupped his face to push it down to your neck where you needed his open-mouthed sloppy kisses and soft bites of his black teeth. He obeyed and then he moved his head even lower to give the same treatment to your breasts, occasionally accompanying your moans with his low grunts.

You could feel that your second peak was coming close and you wanted to make him finish, too, so you spoke up in a shaky, hazy voice.

“Fill me up, give me a son,” you pleaded in a raspy whisper. “I want it so bad, I want to swell with your baby.”

Feyd moved his head up once again and joined your lips in another kiss – this time it was messy with teeth clashing and uncontrollable moans as the movement of his hips became less steady. In a few short spasmodic thrusts he spilled his thick black cum inside of your pussy. The feeling of his hard cock filling you deep inside straight into your womb was enough to bring you to your second peak as well.

Once he was definitely finished, he broke the kiss between you two and moved up to slide out of you and hide his cock back into his pants. You whined at the empty feeling and watched him put his shirt back on while breathing heavily, still laying on the floor, exposed with your dress torn up and your hair a mess. Feeling like a whore and absolutely loving it.

“You will go to the medic tomorrow and tell him that he had to be mistaken and the seed had made its way inside of you,” he informed you oh-so-formally.

“You’re so sure of your success?” You asked.

“I am,” he leaned in to look at you. “Don’t worry, I shall still visit you at night whenever you invite me. I’m a dog at your command now,” he admitted shamelessly and you sat up, resting on your elbows to take a better look at him.

That fearsome warrior was completely under your spell and all you had to do was to let him taste your pussy. You laughed at him. He had so many other women, yet it was you who made him this way. You knew why. It was because you were a war prize, because you were from Paradise and because you were an off-world Shehzadi. But most importantly he wanted you because you were his uncle’s Baroness. He craved you to spite him.

“And if I command you to never touch me nor speak to me again? I have already used you for my own gain,” you teased and raised one of your feet to caress his thigh with it.

Feyd angrily grabbed your ankle and looked into your eyes intensely.

“Don’t think I will allow my child to be called his heir and watch myself being tossed aside as my son is remembered as Vladimir Harkonnen’s spawn,” he threatened.

You didn’t answer that, unsure about the meaning of his words. He gave you one last angry gaze and pushed your foot away before walking out of the room as if nothing had just happened.

Of course the medic did not believe your words but he pretended that he had. He couldn’t know that Feyd had told you about the fact that he was working for him so he just played along and informed the Baron that he had been mistaken and you were, in fact, finally pregnant with his son.

You had been hoping that once you’d be pregnant, your husband would leave you alone. But no, how wrong you had been. He was now keeping you around him nearly all the time as if you were a precious cargo. He invited many great leaders for official banquets and showed you off. He would sit you on his lap and keep his huge hand on your swollen abdomen proudly.

But you did not even mind that much – not when you knew that the child was not his. You would often catch Feyd-Rautha’s gaze somewhere in the room and give him a mysterious smile as he would give you a smirk. It was your secret, your revenge on The Baron Harkonnen.

And late at night he would creep inside your room and please you however you wanted him to, only to disappear before the first rays of the black sun would hit you, as if he was only a dream or a ghost. You would recognise his smell now everywhere, though. The feeling of his touch differed so much from others. There was nothing but pure and raw desire bonding you two together and yet, when you watched him in the gladiator arena next to your husband, you feared for his life and you would startle at the sight of his opponents attacking him.

You knew that if something or someone threatened your life, Feyd-Rautha would protect you and he was more physically capable of it than his uncle. You needed him alive to keep you and your son safe.

You admired his body and his strength, the amount of his devotion to you and his little revenge plan. He was magnetic and you almost felt lucky to be chosen by him even though it was you having the upper hand in this relationship.

Some nights he was not coming to you, too busy with other things or perhaps too exhausted after the training. You didn’t mind since your body needed a rest as well, especially now when you were six months pregnant already. That night was one of those lonely nights and you had problems with falling asleep, so when you were woken up abruptly in the early morning by your servants, you didn’t hide your annoyance.

“What is it?” You snapped and rubbed your eyes.

“It’s… It’s The Baron, my Lady,” the girl’s black Harkonnen eyes were widened out of fear.

“What about him?” You yawned and sat up, squinting your eyes at the sun creeping inside through the windows. Another servant was already opening the curtains.

“He… He drowned last night, my Lady,” the girl informed you and you froze.

“What?” You asked, blinking slowly, not sure if it wasn’t a dream. “What are you talking about? What do you mean drowned? My husband is dead?”

“Yes, Baroness… He drowned in his bathtub. My condolences,” she bowed down. “You are awaited by the lords for the council,” she informed you.

You were speechless as you allowed them to dress you up in a humble black dress of mourning. They did your hair up and put a light make up on your face to hide the dark bags underneath your eyes. Your mind was spinning with an endless train of thoughts.

One thing was certain – it had been no accident. It had to be Feyd-Rautha’s doing.

And as much as you were relieved to hear about The Baron’s death since he would never touch nor hurt you ever again… you were scared of what would happen now. There was no way the lords would allow you to rule as the widow. You were an off-world woman who had been married to their Baron as a war prize. You were a pet, nothing more. You only hoped to convince them to let your son be an heir as they call someone else a regent in his name. You couldn’t hope even for the regent title.

You were escorted to the council room by the guards and when you entered it, every man inside went silent. They bowed down and gave you their condolences but their eyes held no sympathy. Feyd-Rautha was not amongst them.

“Thank you, my lords,” you took a seat at the end of the long, black table. “It is a great tragedy but thankfully before his death, my husband has managed to produce an heir,” you brought up the topic immediately as the men looked at each other. “What is it?” You asked.

“The boy is not even born yet, my Lady,” one of the lords spoke up and pointed at Rabban. “If we announce Count Rabban the next Baron… or Feyd-Rautha as the late Baron wanted… Well, then they might produce their own heirs in the future. They are both young and capable.”

You got dizzy at those words and the reactions of other men. They seemed to hum in approval.

“So, I am to be tossed aside?” You asked, angrily. “I am carrying your late Baron’s son and you’re tossing me aside? The child inside me is a rightful heir,” you protested.

“And what would you want?” A different lord asked without even addressing you properly. You realised you had already lost. “Perhaps you want to be The Baroness Regent? Over my dead body I will let a woman – let alone from Pairi Daêza – to command me.”

“Enough!” The doors opened and Feyd-Rautha walked inside with his head held high and a playful smirk on his face. The way he confidently walked and scanned the room with his eyes was enough proof for you to know that it was him who had killed your husband. “The child is not yet born, that is a fair point,” he looked at the lord who had addressed the matter, “therefore at the time of my uncle’s death I was still the Na-Baron,” he added and you gasped softly. You couldn’t believe that he betrayed you. You chewed on the inside of your cheek at the realisation how stupid you had been to think you were playing on the same side.

You had never discussed any details of his plan with him. But you were carrying his son and you hoped he would protect you and the child. Apparently, he only tormented you for his own fun. You wanted to cry. You had lost everything.

Then he looked at you and his face softened a little at the sight of your trembling lip and sad eyes.

“I will wed my uncle’s widow to be my Baroness as the old levirate law says,” he announced and you froze out of shock. Levirate was a law about brothers but you guessed an uncle with such an important title counted as that, too.

“Respecting that law is not expected from you, my Lord Baron,” one of the lords informed him. “You can choose any other bride.”

“I can,” Feyd nodded and stood behind your chair as he rested his hand on your shoulder, “but I will not. I’m choosing Baroness (Y/N) Harkonnen to be my bride,” he announced as the lords looked at each other, as surprised as you were. Out of relief you reached your hand up to hold his and squeeze it in a grateful manner. “I also want to make it known,” Feyd raised his voice and everyone went silent as they looked at him, “that the child she is carrying is mine and not my late uncle’s, therefore her son is my heir.”

Your heart started to pound in your chest. The eyes of the lords were staring at you with such intensity that you were afraid they would make a hole inside of you. You swallowed thickly, knowing perfectly well that you just had to admit to your sins now.

“I confirm,” you nodded and they began to whisper between each other. Feyd’s hand squeezed yours.

“If you do not believe me nor The Baroness, the medic might make a public announcement of the paternity test but I do hope you will not humiliate your Baroness like that,” Feyd told them and they all went silent again.

“N-no, my lord Baron,” one of the lords stood up and bowed down in your direction. “We accept the child as yours and we will let others know.”

“I do not want this matter to be discussed nor questioned,” Feyd stated harshly.

“With all respect, brother,” Rabban spoke up suddenly and you laid your eyes on him, curious about what he was going to say, “the matter that has been discussed and questioned so far was our uncle’s fatherhood. The only thing we have found out today was the identity of the man our Baroness has laid with.”

“Rabban,” Feyd barked at him.

“It is quite alright,” you said. “I am rather relieved that I do not have to lie about it anymore as I am proud to carry Feyd-Rautha’s son under my heart,” you smiled at the lords. Some of them rolled their eyes but they still nodded their heads at you.

“Then it’s settled,” Feyd announced. “Go back to your chambers as we settle the details about my uncle’s funeral and the rest of the upcoming ceremonies, my Lady,” he looked down at you and you nodded. He helped you to stand up and placed a kiss upon the palm of your hand before taking your seat by the table.

You were taken back to your chambers accompanied by the guard as you caressed your womb gently, very content with the outcome of that council.

The excitement made you less tired so you just ordered breakfast. Once you were finishing it, the doors to your bedroom opened and Feyd-Rautha entered your chamber. For the first time by daylight, without making it a secret. You stood up from the table and approached him with a smile before you threw your hands around his neck.

“My darling,” you greeted him. “I have doubted you for a short while this morning, you know that?”

“Have I not told you that I would not allow my son to be remembered as his heir?” Feyd smiled at you and pulled you closer by your hips – as close as he could with your swollen womb between you two.

“But the lords were right. You do not have to marry me. I can give you a son, he can be your heir. There is no need to wed me,” you pointed out.

“Don’t you want it?” Feyd tilted his head.

“I’m asking do you want it,” you pointed out.

“I wanted to marry you a year ago when you came here, after I lifted up that veil. Why would I change my mind?” He put his hand on your abdomen and caressed it possessively. “You were supposed to be mine. You would have been mine if he hadn’t wanted to spite me.”

“Why do you want me?” You asked. “As a Baron you could have anyone. One of the Imperial Princesses even.”

“You’ve got what it takes, my Lady. You’re stubborn and strong. I’ve claimed you, you are mine,” he insisted.

You cupped his face and caressed his cheeks with your fingertips. It was hard to believe that he was yours now. Your husband. You would no longer dread these words.

“I will be a good wife to you, Feyd-Rautha,” you promised, genuinely. You did not want any games nor conflict. “I want only one thing from you.”

“And what is it?” He squinted his eyes at you, curiously.

“Safety,” you pleaded. “Of me and my family.”

“Your family is now my family,” he nodded and you sighed with relief. “I want a few things from you, too,” he added and you bit on your lower lip.

“What is it?” You asked.

“You will share your chambers with me,” he started and you nodded, “you will give me more heirs,” he added and you smiled at that, “and you will never mention him again,” he finished sternly.

“Never mention who?” You asked softly and leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon his lips. “There is only you and I.”

MASTERLIST

[metamatar]

im asking this out of pure ignorance but I've always wondered how does hinduism handle people who are not hindu? i know Christianity is essentially 'be the right kind of christian or go to hell' (so much as to beleive that Jewish people are literally devils, for example) but i was wondering how hinduism deals w people who are in proximity but not of the same religion. also if a dalit or lower caste person converts from hinduism to another religion, how does that affect thier life and how they're treated? appreciate your answer if u feel like explaining ^__^

it depends, in some parts of the country the non hindu has the same status as the lower caste dalit by default – so exclusion but in most places its a detente where religious and caste endogamy is strictly maintained. housing and employment discrimination is v common. its actually much harder to marry under the special mariage act and violence against interfaith and intercaste couples by their own families is common. in 2023, the muslim is the designated enemy of the state. the christian was fooled by the british and/or money to give up their culture or is literally a foreign agent. if you're looking for a textual answer, the equivalent of the "infidel," there isn’t really one because the streamlining of the canonical religious texts and construction of the hindu is recent. hinduism has aimed to appropriate instead of convert.

in modern india, legally anyone who is not a christian or a muslim is treated as a hindu. you are hindu by default in india to the state, governed by hindu codes for marriage and inheritance. for indigenous tribals it is a matter of coercing their children to feel shame at the (state sponsored but outsourced to private religious groups, love privatisation!!!) residential schools about their animist practices and making them worship the proper gods. for sikhs, jains and buddhists their is marginally more toleration. but they are basically seen as wayward hindu sects. this does change when they're in conflict with the majority in a way that resists "national cohesion" – see sikh pogroms in 1984 and the recent moves against sikhism due to the invocation of khalistan in the farmers protests. when dalits convert to buddhism many right wingers will invoke the spectre of predatory conversions.

since you are supposed to be hindu by default, christians and muslims are then seen as invasive outsiders and conversions are regulated very strictly by many states. it is historically true that christian missionaries brought christianity as part of a broader civilising mission, but imo it says something really depressing about hinduism that its epithets for christians is 'ricebag converts' bc people apparently converted for a bag of rice. islam's foothold in the continent is older, accompanying immigration from the west as well as the sultanate and the mughals. returning these christians and muslims to the fold, or "ghar wapsi" is a major project of the hindutva right. note that india is home to one of the world's largest populations of muslims (~200mil).

lower caste dalits have long converted to christianity and islam but caste violence follows them there anyway. caste may have textual origins in religion and focus on ritual purity but it is a socioeconomic form of subjugation. this means that while still subject to caste violence, dalit christians and muslims will be denied redressal through state protections like legislations against anti caste violence or reservations because those are restricted to hindu dalits.

[lonestardust]

re your tags on the names of Marjan's family. So Marjan's name is not a Lebanese name?

Also I'm curious to your takes on her getting engaged/introducing Joe to her parents 👀

nope. and neither is Marwani actually. Marjan is persian Iranian and Marwani (and it's actually often Almarwani) is Algerian and Saudi Arabian.

i'm curious actually but there aren't certain positive expectations I'm waiting for here with this storyline. the inaccuracy of the name thing alone was something i immediately rolled my eyes at lol. I mean lucky the pilot was so good in every way I was hooked from the jump because otherwise if i had to think twice about Marjan's disastrous praying I'd have been turned off.

It's clear that Natacha did not get the assistance she needed to give Marjan what she needs. not as simple as guiding her on how to properly pray. But are we surprised that the american TV's portrayal of Arabs falls short in many ways due to lack of cultural competence in writers' rooms/ lack of research and guidance from diaspora Arab Muslim creatives? I mean their first thought about Marjan was like hmm how can we introduce this veiled woman in a storyline that portrays her well without trying to objectify her? oh let's take that veil off and see her hair! I don't hate this storyline but it just doesn't fully sit right with me either. especially as an intro.

so I don't know how they're going to go about this whole thing with Joe but I for one really hated the arranged marriage storyline. Yes it's so normal here for family & friends to try to set up adults. but i just can't stand watching the portrayal of I've-been-engaged-since-I-was-12 and playing it into "love is something you grow into" as a commonplace in muslim Arab culture and not something so questionable and rather a fucked up constraint on people (that has been fought against for decades). not even considering the class, ethnic and national difference that plays into it, given how underage arranged marriage or forced marriage is an actual piled up generational struggle rooted in gender inequality and exacerbated by colonial violence and wars. being cut off from the access to education, the creation of extreme poverty that makes families (especially displaced ones) struggle to provide for their kids and fear for their safety and future and so some come to the conclusion that marriage somehow could protect their kids from harm while providing them with a level of financial stability or facilitating moving in and out of besieged areas/cities and crossing boards etc.

And so it's clear that no one of Marjan's class/background in diaspora or back home would consider this to be the norm. so it's weird to me that this was welcomed normally. The writers just took a bunch of stereotypes about Muslims at large with no regard to national/ethnic or class background differences and turned them on their head.

another inconsistency is the chaperone/Mehrem (family member) thing. because first, actually once you're in public you don't need that during a date. second, someone like Marjan with her lifestyle, background, worldview/character and being a diaspora lebanese muslim in her 20s, would not follow an old Mehrem fatwa (the Islamic laws that change according time, place, people, and other prevailing conditions) unless she actually wants that out of having company.

I just don't think the writers engage with Marjan's background in a consistent realistic or authentic way. I didn't really see anything especially Lebanese about Marjan. beside what the mention of cuisines?

anyway i hate the idea of 'representation' in American media either way. It feels like an oxymoron. and the idea of seeing representation as an ultimate goal is even more dangerous. I find it counterproductive more often than not. this is an industry that perpetuates and financially aid violence and defamation narratives against said people that they pat themselves on the back for including and so it's naive to consider that they'll ever get it right. they tiptoe around certain people and tokenize them more than anything. Literally for every one good bare minimum representation there are dozens of American entertainment-military complex propaganda movies/tv shows/video games doing the exact opposite and taking it to extremes. I just always end up asking myself 'how is this exactly helpful? Yes it's entertaining i love watching it, i love this show but the things that plays into the bigger picture are still parts of the objective reality, what should I do about it?'

[theconstitutionisgayculture]

Conservative, religious MAGA here. I honestly don't give a crap who you want to sleep with (so long as they aren't a minor, and it's all consensual). I personally don't consider it marriage due to my strict definition, but I'm not gonna tell you what to call it, and I have no interest in telling you that you can't sleep with another guy or gal, and I'm certainly not gonna stop you from getting tax benefits out of it. (That's why everyone gets married, right? 😉)

Just don't force me to make a wedding cake for it, going past multiple other bakeries specifically to target mine, and we'll be good.

Frankly, I have more of a problem with islam than I do gay people. islam is fine with murdering people who disagree, lying to the enemy to subjugate them, and raping children as young as nine. Most gay people tend to agree that those things are rather evil.

Exactly. There is nothing here we disagree on except for our own personal definitions of marriage. But the left would have me hate you and have me believe you hate me just because of that small difference of opinion. It's ridiculous, and it's exactly why they're losing so badly. They demand perfect ideological compliance as a prerequisite for friendship, love, or even purely pragmatic partnership. The right, and MAGA in particular, are, by and large, much more interested in finding the places where we agree and building off of that.

[papenathys]

Do you have any recs for books about muslim queer people? especially graphic novels?

I have some fiction recommendations, as I don't usually read too much non-fiction:

[ NOTE: Yes, I am aware that all the gay books listed below are depressing as fuck while the sapphic books are fluff or romance. Take it up with the authors. ]

MLM Muslim Books

Darius The Great is Not Okay by Adib Khorram: an Iranian-American boy with clinical depression makes a best friend for life, reconnects with his grandparents, and repairs his relationship with his father on a trip to Yazd.

Guapa by Saleem Haddad: Rasa, a gay man working as a translator and living in an unnamed Arab country, tries to carve out a life for himself in the midst of political and social upheaval, in this novel set over 24 hours.

God in Pink by Hasan Namir: set in war-torn Iraq in 2003 and follows a young gay Iraqi man struggling to find a balance between his sexuality, religion, and culture by seeking guidance from a sheikh.

The Carpet Weaver by Nemat Sadat: a tragic love story between two gay youths in 1970s Afghanistan, who must keep their relationship a secret due to the fears of societal ostracisation, violence and even the impending threat of a war.

WLW Muslim Books

The Henna Wars by Adiba Jaigirdar: Nishat, a young Bangladeshi-Irish lesbian has to fight against racism, homophobia and cultural appropriation when she starts a henna business at her Catholic school, and falls for a rival classmate.

Bright Lines by Tanaïs: a vibrant debut novel set in Brooklyn and Bangladesh, which follows three young women and a diasporic Bengali family struggling to make peace with secrets and their past.

The Love and Lies of Rukhsana Ali by Sabina Khan: a young Bengali-American girl's conservative Muslim parents forcibly send her off to Bangladesh for marriage, after they catch her kissing her girlfriend; once there, she finds solace and strength through reading her grandmother’s old diary.

Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating by Adiba Jaigirdar: a grumpy-sunshine fake dating romance between two young Bengali-Irish sapphic girls, one Muslim and one Hindu, each having her own troubled relationships with friends, religion and family.

The Quilt and Other Stories by Ismat Chughtai: a collection that includes the titular erotic lesbian love story between a Begum and her maidservant, their sexual trysts unknowingly observed by an innocent little girl– this story revolutionized Indian queer literature and lesbian history.

Radiant Fugitives by Nawaaz Ahmed: a Muslim-Indian lesbian political activist working in the early days of Obama's presidency, attempts to reconnect with her mother and sister, years after her father abandoned her because of her sexuality.

Roses in the Mouth of a Lion by Bushra Rehman: Razia, a Pakistani American, grows up across cultures in 1980s New York, confronting stereotypes, dealing with American society, practicing her Muslim faith, and falling in love with a female classmate.

Tell me How You Really Feel by Aminah Mae Safi: a YA enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy about a popular Persian-Indian Muslim cheerleader and a Jewish wannabe director who end up working together on a project, despite their mutual hatred.

Soft on Soft by Em Ali: a very fluffy and low-angst romance between two plus size women- a Persian makeup artist/beauty influencer with anxiety and a Black actress.

MEMOIRS

My Life as A Unicorn by Amrou Al-Kadhi: from a god-fearing British-Iraqi Muslim boy enraptured with their mother, to a vocal, queer drag queen estranged from their family, this is a memoir about the author's fight to be true to themself.

Hijab Butch Blues by Lamya H: a nonbinary butch Muslim author's powerful, religious memoir spanning from her childhood, to their arrival in the United States for college through early-adult life in New York City, describing how she found queer affirmation in the Quran and Islam.

A Dutiful Boy by Mohsin Zaidi: a poignant coming of age memoir by a British-Muslim gay author, about growing up queer in a conservative household, amidst poverty-stricken east London.

We Have Always Been Here by Samra Habib: a memoir about feminism and LGBTQ community by a nonbinary queer Ahmadi Muslim author, whose family sought asylum in Canada after fleeing Pakistan's political turmoil.

In Sensorium (Notes for My People) by Tanaïs: this memoir interlaces memories of childhood in the South, Midwest US and New York with a universe of memories and scent—inspired by the author's own perfume maker background– while offering an alternate history of South Asia from a Bangladeshi Muslim femme perspective.

I have not read some of these, and am not Muslim, so I cannot testify to their "correctness" of Islamic representation. Unfortunately I do not have any graphic novels that deal with queerness and Islam. Perhaps my followers can help.

[dominadespina]

LAZAREVIC SISTERS II

Princess Dragana Lazarevic 

Early Life

She was born as the second out of five daughters of Lazar of Serbia with his wife; Milica. Her date of birth might be around the late-1350s or early-1360s. 

She is the namesaker of her paternal aunt; Dragana Hrebeljanović, the wife of a man named Musa.  She was likely born and raised in Prilepac with her eldest sister; Mara, before moving to Krusevac. 

Not much is recorded or known about her early or later life, but most people believe her to be the second wife of Emperor Ivan Shishman. 

Marriage to…….. Shishman

A lot of Serbian sources are divided about the identidy of her husband, but he certainly was an imperial representative of the Shishman family, and they married around 1386. 

Though Nikola Giljen, mentions her as the wife of Emperor Ivan Shishman, this seems highly unlikely, as Ivan was executated in June 3rd of 1395, and later that year in September, Dragana’s mother; Milica (Now Nun Eugenia) met with the fraternal council of the St. Paptelejmona monastery to discuss financial support that should be given to her daughters in case of poverty in widowhood. 

Nowhere does it mention the recent widowhood of one of her daughters, it can then be concluded that she is not the second wife of Ivan Sishman, but instead the wife of his eldest son; Aleksander Shishman. 

The confusion of her husband’s identidy might be due to the fact that Ivan Shishman proclaimed his eldest son; Aleksander as co-ruler and so by their marriage right both Dragana and Ivan Shishman’s second wife were referred to as “Empress Consorts.”

Nonetheless, nothing is known about the relationship she shared with her husband. Like most royal marriages at the time, it had more to do with the union of two houses into a paternership than a privy love affair. 

As Turks

In 1393, Sultan Bayezid Han conquered Trpovo on July 17. Ivan and his family were captured, it does seems like Dragana was one of the family members who were captured. 

In 1395, Ivan Shishman was executed by order of Sultan Bayezid. In the meantime Aleksander converted to Islam (It is unknown if Dragana converted with him) and became Iskender. Bayezid showed mercy to his kin and put him in a position of power, Iskender became the governer of an area near the Black Sea and was now referred to as "Iskender Bey". 

Later Life 

Nothing is known about the later life of Dragana, after 1395 Serbian sources lost track of her.

Wether or not she outlived her husband is unknown, but if she did this might confirm that she did in fact convert to Islam along side her husband and became Turk, which is why she never returned home; to Serbia.

Issue

There are no known decsendants of either Iskender Bey or Dragana. 

( Sources: “КЋЕРИ КНЕЗА ЛАЗАРА ИСТОРИЈСКА СТУДИЈА ПОГОВОР” by Jelka Redep, Dve srpske sultanije : Olivera Lazarevic (1373-1444) : Mara Brankovic (1418-1487) by Nikola Giljen )

[eatmeandbirthmeagain]

I got a good idea and I hope you’re okay with this bc u said you didn’t know much about Islam (but don’t worry it wouldn’t be offensive of weird if you wrote this) but imagine this , king Baldwin is secretly in love with a Muslim princess and she gets betrothed to another man , a Muslim one and then he sees her again alone , it could be so much angst

♧ Perhaps In Another Life - King Baldwin x Reader ♧

♧ Angst ♧

A/N: Hello Anon! Thank you for the request. It is a really good idea and I do hope that I don't mess it up due to my lack of knowledge but i'll try my best 😅. As always, this is based on the film Kingdom Of Heaven, not the real historical figures. Enjoy!

PS: I really need to stop writing in clsss, people walk behind my laptop too much. Scares tf outta of me.

TW: Leprosy

She was beautiful. A work of art.

Their eyes only met once or twice, but it was enough to make Baldwin’s heart flutter with nervous exitement and his mask-covered face to flush with a pink tint.

Princess y/n of the Middle East.

Naturally, the king had the opportunity to see her a few times whenever she came to Jerusalem for royal affairs, but he never had the opportunity to speak with her one on one.

This both disappointed and relieved him. She was vastly intelligent and charming, but what he would say to her if they were alone, he had no idea.

In her presence, he was not a king nor a leper, just a young man with a secret crush.

He liked that. He liked not being anything special, just for a bit. Just a few minutes where he could look at her and forget his responsibilities.

Just him and y/n.

But it wasn't just them. It never was, there were always others around.

Others to pull them away. Others to ensure they never spoke more than a few words to each other.

It was on their fourth meeting that Baldwin had decided he was in love with her. Absolutely and undoubtedly in love with her.

The way she spoke, the way she moved, it was hypnotic. Her clothing and jewelry fitted her perfectly. He never once lusted for her like the men around her did, he loved her.

He did not wish to feel her skin. He wished to speak with her, know her, show her the world. Show her love. But he knew this would not be possible.

She was a muslim, he was a christian. Two opposite religions that would never permit marriage between the two.

But still, his feelings continued on for years. He never looked at another woman the way he looked at her, because no other woman was as special or even half as beautiful as she was.

Baldwin was twenty one when he received the letter.

It was a wedding invitation. Her wedding invitation.

His beloved y/n was to be married. She was to be betrothed to another man.

The king allowed the letter to fall from his gloved hands to the desk and a single tear to fall from his eye onto it.

He knew deep down that it was not possible to marry her, but he still held onto hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, they could at least be alone together to speak once. Just once. But now she would be married and that would become impossible.

The wedding was exactly a week after he received the invitation. Baldwin watched silently from his seat, desperately attempting to not allow his eyes to well with tears.

He never forgot that day and he never forgot her either.

He never married either, he simply could not see another woman the same way he saw her.

Unbeknownst to Baldwin, he was not the only one suffering from the marriage.

Y/n herself had taken a liking to the young king, many years ago.

When their eyes met for the first time.

She saw him before he was forced to wear the mask. His golden blonde hair reflected the sun, making it look like he was wearing a halo.

His bright blue eyes looked at her with kindness and even after the disease forced him to cover his beautiful face, his gorgeous blue eyes still looked at her with the same kindness from behind the iron mask.

But like him, she knew that it was not possible for them to be in love.

However, like him also, she hoped that one day they would have the chance to be together, just for a little bit. But her wedding made sure that would not happen.

She never forgot him either, until one day she was overjoyed with the news that her husband and herself would be traveling to Jerusalem for a few days to meet with the king and his officials.

Baldwin’s disease had progressed significantly and soon he would be stepping down from the throne.

Y/n knew he would die soon, but thinking about it was too painful so she chose to not. Or at least tried.

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

It was late when she and her husband arrived, they were shown to their rooms and told that the first meeting would be the following morning. 

But y/n could not sleep, nor even come close to shutting her eyes.

So she waited until her husband fell asleep and left the room for some fresh air.

She headed outside to the courtyard, taking a seat on a large bench and looking up to the stars.

“Madam?” a rough, yet kind voice called from behind her.

The princess turned to see Baldwin standing behind her.

Moonlight reflected off his iron mask just like how the sun used to reflect off his golden hair.

“Are you alright?” he asked, approaching her slowly.

“Yes, I just could not sleep,” she told him.

This was the first time they had been alone, needless to say they were both nervous but concealed it well.

“Nor could I,” the king replied, taking a seat beside her.

The two sat in silence for a little while, the only sound being the wind through the palm trees and Baldwins struggled breathing.

Y/n’s heart ached for the man for she knew he did not have much time left.

“I dont think we have been properly acquainted before” the young king finally spoke.

“Yes, it is strange. I have known you for so long but we have never had the chance to speak” y/n replied, turning to face him.

Baldwin sighed, “how is your husband?” he asked.

“He is well. How about yourself? Have you found a wife?” the princess asked, silently hoping he said no.

“No. I believe it's far too late for me to find love. To be wed now would be cruel to the poor lady expecting a husband” the reply only made y/n’s heart ache for him more.

This poor soul had never known love and she had plenty of opportunities to show it to him. But because of one small factor she never could.

“I am sorry to hear that Baldwin, truly I am” she placed a hand on his arm gently.

When he turned to her, she saw tears in his eyes. “I have a confession my lady, I need to tell you this before I die, for I can not go another second with this burden on my shoulders”

Y/n nodded, “of course, anything your highness”.

The king inhaled a shaky, struggled breath before he spoke again. “From the moment I laid eyes on you all those years ago y/n, I was in love with you. I have never felt that way about anyone before and that is the true reason I never took a wife, even when I still had at least some of my health. No woman was as perfect as you” he felt a tear run down his cheek behind the mask.

“And when I got news that you were to be wed, I simply could not take it” he turned away from her, not wishing for the princess to see the tears that now flowed freely down his cheeks.

Y/n thought for a moment before speaking.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I have always felt the same?” she reached out a hand, placing it on his masked cheek to make him face at her.

“I always loved you Baldwin. If it was not for our faiths being separate I would have asked my father for your hand in marriage myself if you didn't” y/n gave him a weak smile, looking into his cloudy, once bright blue eyes.

The king tried to speak but he couldn't, all he could do was choke out a muffled sob before y/n wrapped her arms around him.

Her embrace felt just like he imagined it to be, soft and warm. A comfort he had not felt since he was a child.

“I do not fear your illness Baldwin. I have awaited this moment for seven years, allow me to remove the weight from your shoulders before you are acquainted with your lord in heaven”

Her words were perfect. They were exactly what he needed and longed to hear.

“Perhaps in another life, things would have been different” he said quietly, his face buried in her shoulder.

Y/n smiled, “yes, perhaps they would have”.

[calabria-mediterranea]

The Festival of the Giants in Catanzaro, Calabria, Italy

A glimpse of i giganti at a Sicilian or Calabrian festival is a treat for all ages. But who are these folkloric giants – the golden-haired damsel and her dark-skinned suitor – and what are their origins? Just as the evocative figures float and whirl through the streets, their history entwines actual events and colorful myth to create the intriguing tradition.

The legend of the giganti is generally thought to originate in Messina, the northeastern Sicilian city that is separated from Calabria in the toe of the mainland by the aptly named Strait of Messina. Some accounts tell of a beautiful peasant girl, others of a local princess, but whatever her social position, the young maiden came from a virtuous, Christian family. Her name was Marta, or Mata in dialect. One day around 970 A.D. during the period of the Saracen invasions, a very tall Arab named Hassass Ibn-Hammar came ashore with his men to pillage the city. Upon seeing the lovely Mata, the prince asked for her hand in marriage. She refused, causing him to plunder all the more.

In the picture: THE IMPRESSIVELY GIANT GIGANTI IN MESSINA, SICILY

As a good Catholic, Mata resorted to prayer. Some stories tell of her kidnapping, but whether voluntarily or by force, she eventually capitulated and fell in love with the Muslim prince when he converted to Christianity and gave up his barbaric ways. He subsequently changed his name to Grifo and came to be known as Grifone due to his noteworthy physical stature. (The suffix -one denotes largeness in Italian.)

Across the Strait of Messina in Calabria, the giganti are constructed of papier-mâché and rest on the shoulders of their handlers.

Hidden under the giants’ skirts with a face hole to help guide their way, the puppeteers engage in a dance of courtship – the swarthy, mustached Saracen versus the fair, rosy-cheeked girl next door.  Fast footwork to the step of the tarantella conducts the couple through turns, inclinations and other gestures that draw them ever nearer and lead to an embrace or kiss to the delight of the crowd.

The ballo is accompanied by the incessant beating of drums that not only requires great stamina from the puppeteers, but has even inspired legends.

Calabria and Sicily share the giganti as they share the Strait and histories plagued with foreign incursion and domination. The ballo of Mata and Grifone is commonly viewed as a representation of the struggle between Islam and Catholicism. In festive atmospheres throughout the regions, the conflict is peacefully resolved, the people emerge victoriously, liberty is preserved and everyone has a good time. Long histories and engaging folkloric traditions come together to form part of a rich cultural fabric in which i giganti play an important part, both enlightening and entertaining the generations of today and tomorrow.

Video by Giganti Varapodio RC Profilo

Written by Karen Haid

Follow us on Instagram, @calabria_mediterranea

[alhamdulillah10]

If you are married, this is my number-one tip: let go of your subconscious fantasies about marriage. Leave the world of fantasy in favor of the world of reality.

Because the reality is:

You're not perfect, and your spouse isn't perfect, so your marriage won't be perfect. And that's okay.

And there's no such thing as soul mates, and the idea of this perfect romantic love actually makes a lot of people depressed in their marriages. So let it go.

Our unhappiness comes from the gap between our expectations and our reality.

If our expectations are too high and unreasonable due to the fantasies we learned from Disney, Hollywood, and Bollywood "love stories," then actual reality will never measure up.

And we will be disappointed, dissatisfied, discontented.

And Shaytan will whisper to us slyly that we probably married the wrong person.

And then we start thinking about divorce. Thinking that we need to leave this un-perfect spouse and this un-perfect marriage to find our "soul mate" and our "perfect love story" and our "happily ever after," because this clearly isn't it.

Only we will never find those fantasies, even if we were to continously hop from marriage to marriage seeking.

Because the problem isn't our spouse.

The problem is the fantasies that fuel our expectations, which poison our thoughts and feelings about reality.

So let us gracefully let go of the fantasies and maturely accept reality. This is the start of happiness in marriage.

You can find grounds to divorce your spouse in almost every marriage, but the real deal is to find the grounds to stay married.

We need to get over this Hollywood version of romance in marriages, as it’s all facade, and the secret of happy marriages is just one; loving your spouse for the sake of ALLAH!

#shared and a bit edited

This is a general advice but not absolute that work in all cases because if the disappointments have real basis in matters of aqeedah, then divorce is better I mean if the aqeedah matters are enough serious to take someone out of the pale of Islam for which even marriage itself is nullified and intimacy it's already all zina. I don't mean a difference of opinion about a specific sunnah where there is room for another interpretation or different opinion. Neither is this meant to get beaten by a ruthless husband for small or no real reason and consider it as a norm and "have sabr" while great injustice and abuse is being done to you.

[ottomanladies]

Hello, I hope you are doing well, I love your content but I was confused by a subject you brought up

You mentioned in one of your posts that Nilüfer was most likely a consort of slave origin, and then you rely on the Mekce document to claim that Orhan had two other consorts called Melek and Efendi.

I would like to know what recent historians base their claim that Nilüfer was a slave on, apart from her first name? Which could very well have been changed following her conversion to Islam, I see absolutely nothing that proves that this is the case, quite the contrary, and by the way, who decreed that Nilüfer was a slave name? 😭

According to the majority of historians, Nilüfer was the daughter of the Tekfur/Ruler of Yarhisar.

It is said that Nilüfer arrived after 1324 because she is not mentioned in the Mekce document, and that this is sufficient evidence to say that she was not there before and that the stories about her are false, but absolutely not. This document is not a family document in any way, all the children of Orhan and Osman are not mentioned, and neither is Asporça Hatun, although it is absolutely certain that she became Orhan's wife well before 1324 since she gave birth to Ibrahim in 1316. And you basing your theory on Nilüfer being a slave because she arrived after 1324, while you say that she is the mother of Suleyman who was born around 1316? In addition to this, in this document, Efendi and Melek are not certified or mentioned as Orhan's wives in this document, unlike his sister Fatma who is clearly mentioned as Osman’s daughter, so where does this information come from? Efendi, Mal Bint ömer and Melek are all mentioned at the bottom of the document and are the three people whose identities are not identified (this was also confirmed by Leslie Pierce)

Also I don’t know what’s so important for everyone about that Mekçe document? In 1941, Halil Ismail Uzuncarsili published the 1324 Mekçe Property Charter from the documents found in Topkapi Saray, where indeed Efendi and Melek are mentioned (not described as Orhan’s wives they are just witnesses), everybody take in consideration that document but ignore the other charter made by Halil Ismail Uzancarsili published after 1963, this one actually prepared by Orhan Gazi himself in 1360 after the death of his eldest son Süleyman, where Nilüfer IS mentioned, Efendi and Melek aren’t.

Efendi was only Orhan's cousin and Melek was more likely his niece, them being mentioned in the Mekce doesn’t mean they were wives of Orhan?

Moreover, this theory can also be easily denied due to the fact that the title of "Hatun" was not used with their names (like Fatma *HATUN* Bint Osman for example), which was unlikely as the name of all other noble or even common women was followed by this title, let alone the wives of an Ottoman ruler.

All the claims about “Efendi” and “Melek” being Orhan’s wives are completely baseless and were only made by Feridun Emecen after 725 years.

The so-called Bayalun is also more likely Nilüfer, it is said that it is one of her names. There is this book of travels by Ibn Batuta who himself mentions that Nilufer Hatun was Beylun Hatun. In John Freely's book it is also mentioned exactly the same thing, Beylun Hatun was Nilufer Hatun

You also say that Theodora was Orhan's favorite wife, while her marriage with Orhan was for purely political reasons, Orhan probably didn't even welcome her and she was taken care of in the Ottoman lands by eunuchs like it is mentioned in the book" Eunuchs in the Byzantine history and society". Theodora was 16 when she married and Orhan 66? Unless Orhan has some strange sharpness, I doubt she was his favorite, especially when the great love story of Orhan and Nilüfer is so well described in the many history books read, presented and approved at the court of the Ottoman Sultans Bayezid II and Murad III :)

That grant land which apparently identifies Efendi as Orhan's wife, I wonder if anybody ever saw this document because I don’t think so? It is in Leslie.p's book okay, but this isn’t a proof?

Orhan had three confirmed wives in his life and these are most probably the only ones he had: Nilüfer, Asporça and Theodora.

And I wonder where is it stated that Orhan had a Serbian wife, because I checked Oztuna’s work on O.E and all he has talked about is politics and the era of yavuz and kanuni and until now I myself couldn’t find anything in which he talked about the wives of sultan or like the even slightest mention

Regarding Alderson and his claims (that I didn’t find btw) pointing out that Orhan had a Serbian wife, I wonder where he got that from, and I don't think his statements are really true, for example If we follow his logic almost all of Mehmed III's children were born from Handan and he also completely denied the fact that Murad III had a daughter named Hümaşah 💀 In addition to this, he also wrote that Orhan died in 1360 and that Murad executed his brother Suleyman’s son, I don’t even know where the Serbian wife thing comes from. All Alderson said about Nilüfer and Orhan was just that they got married in 1299

There are so many sources that claim that Orhan only had 3 wives, and that Nilüfer, the Byzantine Tekfur’s daughter was his favorite wife, I can share them with you but expect it to be long 😭, sorry if I seemed rude, it was not my intention, have a nice day! And again I love your content! ❤️

I'm sorry but I'm a little confused because I looked into my blog and I've never claimed any of this stuff.

A little disclaimer before I go on, though: I don't do historical research for every post I make because otherwise, I'd post once a year. Everything I have written on this blog has been taken from books, so it's not me claiming anything. It is true that in this post, related to Orhan's and Bayezid's consort, I did not include sources but the bookshelf page contains all the sources I usually use.

Now:

You mentioned in one of your posts that Nilüfer was most likely a consort of slave origin, and then you rely on the Mekce document to claim that Orhan had two other consorts called Melek and Efendi.

I have no idea what this Mekce document is, I have never used it nor seen it. That Nilüfer was "most likely" a concubine (words are important) is something that Peirce says in The Imperial Harem:

Nilüfer's name, Persian for "water lily", argues for a greater likelihood that she was a concubine, since it was typical of the mostly Persian names given to concubines in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, many of which were names of birds and flowers. Further evidence that Nilüfer might have entered Orhan’s household as a slave concubine is the fact that slaves were an abundant commodity in the Turkish principalities of western Anatolia by the time of her son Murad’s birth. Ibn Battuta reported that the ruler of the rival Turkish principality of Aydın had twenty Greek slaves standing at attention at the entrance to his palace; indeed, he gave the traveler a Greek slave woman as a gift. The household of Osman contained slaves used in combat and probably household slaves as well, although historical tradition represents the estate of the deceased ruler as modest and typically nomadic: a robe, flank armor, a saltcellar, a spoon holder, soft high houseboots, several stables of good horses, several flocks of sheep, a few wild mares, and several pairs of saddle pads.31 By the beginning of Orhan’s reign, slaves taken in conquest may have been a standard feature of soldier households in the Ottoman principality: Orhan purchased slaves from his followers in order to provide for the defense of the newly conquered fortress cities.

I have simply reported what Peirce said in The Imperial Harem.

And you basing your theory on Nilüfer being a slave because she arrived after 1324, while you say that she is the mother of Suleyman who was born around 1316?

Again, I don't understand why you're thinking *I* am the one who came up with the theory. I didn't. I've never studied Orhan's family as it is not a subject I'm particularly interested in.

This, again, is written in The Imperial Harem:

The principal witnesses of the 1324 endowment deed cited above were family members; the hierarchical order of the signatories suggests that two of the four female witnesses—Melek and Efendi—were wives of Orhan (the other two were Fatma Khatun, Orhan’s sister, and Mal Khatun). Efendi, identified as “Eftendize” in the record of a land grant Orhan made to her as his wife, may have been Orhan’s cousin, the daughter of Osman’s brother Gündüz. If so, this first-cousin marriage may have functioned to seal Gündüz’s loyalty to Osman. Melek appears in no histories or other documents that have come to light; if indeed she was married to Orhan, she may have been the mother of Sultan, who is known to us as one of Orhan’s sons only through his appearance as a signatory to the deed and who must have died before his father. Another of Orhan’s wives, and the mother of his son İbrahim and two daughters, Fatma and Seljuk, was Asporça. Nothing else is known about her except that Osman granted this daughter-in-law several villages, which she then deeded to her descendents in 1323, making her son her executor.

All the claims about Efendi, Melek, Bayalun... I know nothing about this. I simply reported what I've found in books written by other people. Just take it up to them.

You also say that Theodora was Orhan's favorite wife, while her marriage with Orhan was for purely political reasons, Orhan probably didn't even welcome her and she was taken care of in the Ottoman lands by eunuchs like it is mentioned in the book" Eunuchs in the Byzantine history and society". Theodora was 16 when she married and Orhan 66? Unless Orhan has some strange sharpness, I doubt she was his favorite, especially when the great love story of Orhan and Nilüfer is so well described in the many history books read, presented and approved at the court of the Ottoman Sultans Bayezid II and Murad III :)

I really have no idea where I said this because I looked for posts where I mentioned Theodora but I didn't find anything. This is what I said about her when I was asked to talk about Orhan's consorts:

And I wonder where is it stated that Orhan had a Serbian wife, because I checked Oztuna’s work on O.E and all he has talked about is politics and the era of yavuz and kanuni and until now I myself couldn’t find anything in which he talked about the wives of sultan or like the even slightest mention

I don't know what O.E is but I use Devletler ve Hanedanlar. This said, it's not Oztuna who said Orhan had a Serbian wife, but Alderson:

Stefan Uroš IV Dušan was King of Serbia, hence his daughter was Serbian.

Regarding Alderson and his claims (that I didn’t find btw) pointing out that Orhan had a Serbian wife, I wonder where he got that from, and I don't think his statements are really true, for example If we follow his logic almost all of Mehmed III's children were born from Handan and he also completely denied the fact that Murad III had a daughter named Hümaşah 💀 In addition to this, he also wrote that Orhan died in 1360 and that Murad executed his brother Suleyman’s son, I don’t even know where the Serbian wife thing comes from. All Alderson said about Nilüfer and Orhan was just that they got married in 1299

Even if he's wrong, which I don't know, I had to include this second Theodora in my post about Orhan's consorts just for completeness. Also, Alderson cannot be completely discarded just because he's sometimes wrong. He also wrote in the 50s.

I'm honestly perplexed because I feel like you confused me with another person, as I have never said anything that you claim I have said.

EDIT: I haven't forgotten about the other asks in my inbox, I'm just reading everything carefully. Please be patient 🙏🏻

[ynx1]

Ten Types of Modesty حیا

Ibn-ul Qayyim (raḥimahullāh) mentioned in his book Madarij us Saalikeen Vol. 2 Pg. 267 “Al Hayaa’ (i.e. modesty) is categorized into ten types:

1. The modesty of Shame: This is similar to the modesty of Adam (Alaihis salam) when he fled in paradise after eating from the forbidden tree. Allah asked him “Are you fleeing form me O Adam because of your sin?” He said: “No my lord! Rather it is out of shame that I flee from you!”

2. The modesty that results in you realizing your shortcomings such as; the modesty of the angels, those who praise Allah day and night and never enervate. On the Day of Judgment they will say Subhanaka! (i.e. Glory be to You!) we did not worship You as You deserved to be worshiped.”

3. The modesty of Magnification: This modesty is a result of knowledge. The extent of knowledge the slave has of his Lord, will determine how modest or shy of Him he/she is.

4. The modesty of Generosity: This is similar to the modesty of the Prophet (Sallahu alaihi wa salam) with those people he invited to the walimah (i.e. marriage banquet) of Zaynab Bint Jahsh (Radiyallahu anha)and they stayed with him longer than necessary, so he stood up and walked away without saying to them “Leave!”.

5. The modesty of Embarrassment: This is similar to the modesty of Ali Ibn Talib (Radiyallahu anhu)when he was too embarrassed to ask the Prophet himself about the pre-seminal discharge he was experiencing, because he was married to his daughter.

6. The modesty of Low self-worth: This is similar to the modesty of the slave in front of his lord when he asks Him for his needs, knowing that he doesn’t deserve it. In a narration of Bani Israel Musa (Alaihis salam) said: “O lord, a need or desire of this life arises and I am too modest to ask You for it O lord!” So Allah responded to him by saying: “Ask me for what whatever you like, whether it is the salt for your dough or the fodder for your herd!” And it is possible that this is because of two things:

7. The modesty of Love: This is the modesty of the one who loves another, and when he thinks in his heart of the one he loves during his absence, his modesty for him is greater than what he feels for him in his presence and he doesn’t even know why. There is no doubt that the love of a person has a stronger and more magnificent authority over the individual than the authority of the one who conquers the body physically. And because of this, kings and elite authority wonder in amazement about creation and how they are conquered because of the love they have for someone greater than they are conquered by power and physical authority. We asked Sheikh ul Islam Ibn Taymiyah (Rahimahullah) about this issue, and I mentioned this to him and he just smiled and didn’t say anything.

8. The modesty of Servitude: This is the type of modesty that is mixed with love and fear while witnessing that there is no perfection in his worship or servitude to the One he worships. And the slave acknowledges that his Lord is greater and more opulent than what he is offering of worship, so his servitude to Allah causes him to be modest of Him, and there is no way around this.

9. The modesty of honor and dignity: The modesty of the noble and prestigious soul. if he does something that is beneath his caliber, either by exerting himself or doing some random act of good, he is modest despite what he has exerted of himself with a type of modesty that is honorable and dignified, and there are two reasons for this:

10. The modesty of an individual regarding himself: This is the modesty of the noble, honorable and dignified individual due to him being pleased with the fact that he has some shortcomings. He prostrates himself out of modesty as if he has two personalities. He is modest with one regarding the other and this is the most complete form of modesty. If the slave is modest regarding himself then he is more likely to be modest in front of others

[hidayahchronicles]

Maturing is understanding that marriage is an act of Ibadah and not a happily ever after fantasy where all your problems will dissolve. It’s a union that will bring out trauma in you and you have to choose how to deal with it. Marriage is a test, not a cute Instagram reel. We often have unrealistic expectations of marriage due to what social media portrays. Yes marriage can be beautiful but it’s hard it requires a lot of effort, you can’t just walk away when things aren’t going your way and say Khalas. Marriage offers a special healing yes but, you can’t enter marriage with the expectation of your partner making you happy 24/7, that is unfair towards them. Happiness is a state of mind not a momentary thing or materialistic things. We haste to make Nikkah that we over look the responsibilities we are given to us over our spouse. There were Scholars in Islam who were afraid to get married because they were afraid they wouldn’t be able to fulfill their obligations towards their spouses. Are you ready to fulfill the obligations you will be given? What will you say in front of Allah when you were not able to fulfill your duties?

Don’t marry for love, lust or selfish desires, it will destroy the marriage before it even begins. Marry for the sake of Allah, because it’s pleasing to Allah and because He commands it. Rahmah and Mawadda will overflow in that marriage.

Lastly do your research about the marriage contract, learn the rights of the husband and wife so that you may fulfill your responsibilities and that you may not be deprived from your rights.

Learn to understand deeper than the superficial standards displayed.

And Allah knows best 🤲🏼.

-HidayahChronicles

[ayyahsbraindump]

Icebreaker by Hannah Grace: An example of poor Muslim representation.

Okay, if you’re reading from my blog page (is that what it’s called?) I’m sure you have guessed that I am a Muslim and that representation in books is really important to me. I want to mention that I don’t really care if there isn’t Muslim representation in books and I don’t actively seek it out, as a lack of representation doesn’t really change much about the book nor the characters for me personally but I am fully on board with the concept of creating more inclusive books! That being said, if representation happens to be in a book I’m reading, I do have an issue with poor Muslim representation, specifically when it feels blatantly ignorant towards my religion.

Now I want to say, I love the idea of a flawed character, and don’t mind if they decline in character progression- I think it makes for an interesting read! Personally I feel it has to be done in a specific manner, where the flaw is described in depth and analysed critically and with precision. In doing so it makes for a less biased take on a person’s flaw and the complexity of said characters issues makes me feel more conflicted as to my feelings towards them. Enter Sabrina: a party animal in college who drinks and flirts with boys. Oh, and she’s a Muslim.

For anyone who is unaware, in Islam drinking is prohibited, simply for the fact that it is a prohibited food by God. Flirting is also not allowed and segregation is encouraged as Muslims believe in marriage as opposed to hookup culture or other romantic relationships (no hate to any other ideas on love- you do you!). Most call it strict and oppressive rulings but regardless it’s a religion and our beliefs should be respected (all beliefs, cultures, differences etc should be respected regardless of if you don’t align with them!!).

Now, I am aware that Sabrina is a side character and has little to no interest regarding the plot of the book- I’m pretty sure she’s just introduced to interest readers into Hannah’s next book? (from what I’ve read so far). However, pinning Sabrina, a Muslim woman, down to these characteristics can be harmful in my opinion as us Muslims already are seen in a negative light due to media and society, and since we barely have any representation to begin with, making us look bad can make others assume that’s just how we are and further feed into this idea that Muslims aren’t good people. And I, alongside so many others, have been through instances of hate towards us because of the misunderstandings that society has created about Islam. Again, I love the idea of a flawed character but the way Sabrina is written is just messy and speaks ignorant. And had Hannah Grace simply not made Sabrina a Muslim, I would’ve felt indifferent about Sabrina. I understand not everyone will feel the same way but I made this account to rant so I’ll do exactly that :)

*A quick note: this example is not as serious as some other books I’ve seen on social media (It All Comes Back to You was probably the worst Muslim rep I’ve ever seen) however this is my current read and is still harmful so I will speak about it.

[muslimconnect]

A Journey Through Muslim Traditions And Activities

Islamic commercial enterprise is an idea that emphasizes the values and concepts taught by way of Islam in carrying out commercial enterprise activities. Islam teaches a complete concept of enterprise that consists of principles and ethics. The commercial enterprise idea in Islam the goal international is intended for income handiest and is not only one of the branches to earn a living, however, it's far one of the branches of faith that a trader can draw in the direction of God Almighty.

For more details information you can read our latest article named Muslim Owned Business

What Is Muslim Summer Camp?

Cyclic adenosine monophosphate (cAMP) turned into the authentic “2d messenger” to be determined. Its formation is promoted by employing adenylyl cyclase activation after ligation of G protein-coupled receptors through ligands which include hormones, autocoids, prostaglandins, and pharmacologic agents.

A summer season camp is a teenager's development business enterprise, supervised by way of professional adults, that strives to foster a private boom for youngsters by offering them a laugh, secure instructional and leisure programs, door experiences, and group sports at the same time as far from home all through the summer season months.

A summer season camp is a place in the United States of America where dads and moms can pay to send their children at some stage in the college summer season vacation.

For more details information you can read our latest article named Muslim Summer Camp

Muslim Nursing Home

Delivering outstanding care to Muslim sufferers consists of recognition of the implications of the Islamic faith and ideals. Nurses have to recognize the inferences of nonsecular and cultural values for clinical practices. They must be privy to the need for modesty and privateness.

In Islam, nurses offer healthcare offerings to sufferers, households, and groups as a manifestation of love for Allah and Muhammad. The nursing profession isn't always new to Islam. Islamic traditions include sympathy for and duty towards the ones in need.

However, even most orthodox Muslims recognize that during a scientific emergency, saving an affected person's existence takes priority over locating a lady or male expert and that having a male issuer treat a female patient or a lady issuer treat a male affected person is suitable in an emergency.

For more details information you can read our latest article named Muslim Nursing Home

Mouthwatering Muslim Biryani

Biryani is derived from the Persian phrase Birian, which means 'fried before cooking', and Birinj, the Persian word for rice. While there is more than one theory about how biryani made its way to India, it is usually time-honored that it originated in West Asia.

Chicken biryani is so famous due to the different flavors and the substances it consists of and the nostalgia it conjures up as a royal and iconic dish. One of the maximum not unusual approaches to preparing chook biryani is to layer spiced birds followed by rice, fried onions, and ghee.

For more updates, you can read our latest blog post Muslim Biryani House. 

Benefits Of Muslim Divorce Lawyer

As in step with Islamic laws, a pair can gain a divorce from each other either through the technique of 'Talaq' or 'Khula'. However, these are two exclusive tactics. 'Khula' refers back to the right of a Muslim lady to give a divorce to her husband unilaterally, in keeping with reports.

The two types of divorce by way of mutual consent commonplace below Islamic regulation are khula and Mubarak. In khula, the preference for divorce comes from the wife returning the dower that she received from her husband, while Mubarak is the dissolution of marriage with the aid of mutual consent.

The Qur'an promotes reconciliation, via negotiated settlements among the spouses themselves or the usage of arbitrators from their families. However, when “mutual exact treatment” isn't always feasible, there needs to be an amicable parting. Thus, the Qur'an treats divorce as something authorized but now not laudable.

For more details information you can read our latest article named Muslim Divorce Lawyer

What Is the Muslim Community Called?

The phrases Muslim international and Islamic world typically consult with the Islamic community, which is likewise referred to as the Ummah. This includes all those who adhere to the spiritual beliefs, politics, and laws of Islam or to societies in which Islam is practiced.

Although the means of the ummah starts virtually with a preferred application of the word, it step by step develops to reference a trendy spiritual community and then evolves to mainly discuss with the Muslim nation.

The term Ummah designates the Islamic holy community, i.e., the nonsecular community. This, the major meaning of the term, is found inside the Qur'an however simplest in a constrained number of instances.

For more details information you can read our latest article named Muslim Community Center

[mashriqiyyah]

It is so easy to preach polygamy for a unmarried woman. Get into polygamy and you will understand how painful it is.

Yeah. It is. True. Being unmarried and talking about polygamy is very easy tbh. But it also gets easier when you're living for the sake of Allah. I cannot explain this to you anon because I don't know what stage you're at. SubhanAllah., I have seen closest examples of polygamy which were truly a disaster...but those multiple marriages were done for the sake of Worldly reasons. With women having zero to no idea of coexistence. And women with no major goals except for living for their husbands and reproduction. With all due respect. On the other hand, I've seen women look for a co-wife for their own husband, women who strive to please Allah, women who are doing a lot for the sake of serving the Deen of Allah.

And I learnt the difference there. A woman, who's life's first priority is Allah subhanhuwata'ala, who's goal is to please Him and not live for all the worldly possessions and to own a human being rather to understand that there are more women than men and if this one to one is followed...how many sisters would remain unmarried who might need marriage for support?!!

Ponder. There might be some bad experience you have had. But, shaykh ul Islam Imam ibn Taimiyyah rahimahuAllah said,  "The perfection of Tawheed is found when there remains nothing in the heart except Allah." When we love people for the sake of Allah, they don't become the central dogma of our lives. As they shouldn't. I hope you understand. BarakAllah feeki 🌸

[lgbtqiamuslimpedia]

A Jihad for Love (2008)

Director - Parvez Sharma

Producer - Sandi Simcha Dubowski

Cinematography - Parvez Sharma, Berke Baş,David W. Leitner

Writer - Javed Haider Zaidi

Cast - Imam Muhsin Hendricks,Arsham Parsi,Maryam,Abdellah,Mazen,Ferda,Qasim,Ahsan,Amir,Mojtaba,Kiymet,Sana,Maha,Pedram Abdi (Payam)

Languages - Arabic,Farsi,Urdu,Bengali, Hindi,English,French,German,English,Turkish,etc

Genre - •LGBTQ •Islam •Documentary

Year of Release - 21 May,2008

Box office - $105,651

Awards - •Best Documentary Award,MIX BRASIL •Best Documentary, Image+Nation Film Festival •Best Documentary,The Tri-Continental Film Festival,India • GLAAD Media Award •Teddy Award,etc

A Jihad for Love (preceded by a short film called In the Name of Allah) is an award-winning international documentary on Homosexuality & Islam.It took total six years to make this groundbreaking documentary.Parvez Sharma took the risk to film this documentary in most dangerous country (like Islamic Republic of Iran,Iraq, Saudi Arabia,Pakistan,Egypt).Homosexuality is a punishable crime in most Muslim World.

The work that Sharma started with this film has become a staple in many books on Islam and at U.S. University libraries.The website Faith in Equality put it at number 9 in a list of LGBT films about faith.IMDb rates the film at 13 on its list of 58 titles under the category of "Best documentaries on religion, spirituality & cults".The film first premiered at the TIFF in 2007, and has been screened to great acclaim at several film festivals around the world.The film went on to win 15 other international awards.

Plot

At starting it shows a glimpse of Islam across the globe.The film first featured Hendrick Muhsin, a South African,Pakistani Gay & Muslim.He is also the first Out Gay Imam of Africa.Filmmaker Parvez got into the deep of Hendicks's personal life struggles,his understanding of Islam & reconciliation of intersecting identities.

Mazen, an Egyptian effeminate muslim was arrested in 2001, in a gay nightclub named Queen Boat.He was beaten,forced to stand trial twice on "debauchery" charges & sentenced to a total of 4 years in prison, where he was raped.He eventually moved to Paris.Mazen also has left his families & friends in Egypt.

Sana is a Black Lesbian refugee, & a victim of FGM.She has a deeper understanding of Islam & told Parvez that Queerness is not against Islam.Sana didn't have any kind of sexual relation with any women.But she had intimate loving relations with women.Like others, she came to France as a refugee.Sana befriend with Maryam & Mazen.

Maryam is Moroccan-born queer womxn who lives in Paris.Her girlfriend Maha lives in Egypt.Both lovers met each other on Bint-al Nas - a meeting site for Arab LBTQ womxn.Maryam still believes that she deserves punishment for her lesbian sexual relationship.Both have survived abusive marriages and can only share their love for each other in private.Maryam & Maha go on a shared journey of search and discovery of female homosexuality.In Al-Azhar, they discover an old bookstore where they find a copy of the Fiqh al-Sunnah(The Laws of the Prophet).In the heart of an ancient mosque in the Citadel,they discover beautiful Islamic calligraphy as they declare their impossible love for each other.

Amir, an Iranian gay shia who has respect for Imam Hosseini.He sacrificed his life for Allah & reconciling his muslim faith.While in Iran, he was persecuted under the charges of illicit sexual conduct,illicit mannerism & received 100 lashes.After being brutally beaten and tortured in the police custody.The judge also threatened Amir that he should be punished by stoning.However he was sentenced to flogging.He told Sharma that Allah helped him to escape this traumatic situation.He fled to Turkey as soon as well.There he met 3 gay refugees - Arsham,Payam,Mojtaba.Mojtaba, another (Persian) gay muslim who ran away from Iran,due to his same sex marriage ceremony in 2005.

Ferda & Kiymet are a happy couple in Turkiye.Kiymet belongs from a conservative family.In her early Kiymet's marriage was fixed with a man.Kiymet's marriage ended up at divorce.Then she found Ferda, her soulmate.Ferda's mom is very supportive & tolerant of sexuality.Ferda is a devout sufi queer muslim, who honors Rumi - a prominent sufi icon for both LGBTQ+ & Straight Muslims.

Ahsan & Qasim are queer platonic friends.Ahsan is a Sunni Muslim & Qasim is a Shia Muslim.Both men, belongs from poor backgrounds do not adopt the western peronae of ‘gay’ and instead rely on vernacular terms.Ahsan & Qasim are part of transvestite,transgender community called Zenana,Kothi in Northern India.Most of these community hide themselves from public.Ahsan,Qasim find a safe space in his community.While Qasim is struggling with his sexuality in heteronormative society.

The filmmaker also documented the diverse tolerance of sexuality in sufi traditions (Pakistan,India & Turkey).

Is it the first film on Islam & Homosexuality?

''A Jihad for Love'' is called world's 1st film on Islam & Homosexuality.A Jihad for Love would be an international feature documentary film rather than world's first film on LGBT muslims.However there are several films that focused on LGBTQ muslim or Queerness in Islam.For Example:

Road to Love (2001)

Act of Faith (2002)

Haremde dört kadin (1965)

Hammam al-Malatily (1973)

Köçek (1975)

Ihtiras Firtinasi (1984)

My Beautiful Laundrette (1985)

Marcides (1993)

Istanbul Beneath My Wings (1996)

Hamam (1997)

Lola & Billy the Kid (1999)

Production

Bismillah (In the name of Allah) was considered as an early working title for this documentary.Among muslims,the word Bismillah is very auspicious & used before beginning actions,speech,writing.But the tittle was not considered as the final title of this film due to controversy.

A Jihad for Love is produced by Halal Films, in association with the Sundance Documentary Film Fund,Channel 4 (UK),ZDF (Germany),Arte (France-Germany),Logo (US) & SBS Australia.The director & producer Parvez Sharma & co-producer Sandi Dubowski raised more than a million dollars over a 6 years period to make the film.

In an interview with The NY Times,Parvez Sharma said that he "would shoot touristy footage on the first 15 minutes & the last 15 minutes of a tape", with interviews for documentary in between, to avoid having his footage seized at customs.He compiled 400 hours of footage from a dozen countries ranging from Iraq to Pakistan to the UK.The nature of the work placed him at considerable personal risk.He adopted hardcore guerrilla film-making tactics,pretending to be a tourist in one country,a worker for an AIDS charity in another country.Wherever he went,he asked his queer friends to keep copies of footage and destroy the tapes once he had successfully smuggled the masters out of the country.

During his filmmaking Parvez traveled several countries including Pakistan, Iraq, India, Bangladesh, Egypt, USA, UK, Turkey, France, Saudi Arabia, South Africa,[...].

Interviews

In an interview with NY Times magazine,Parvez Sharma said,"Being gay and Muslim myself,I knew that this film had to be about us all coming out— as Muslims. It's about claiming the Islam that has been denied to us." With a target audience of "faithful Muslims," he undertook a variety of outreach tactics, including leafleting mosques,blanketing MySpace,screening in Astoria for 15 key progressive Muslim leaders.In an interview to Der Spiegel, Sharma explained the significance of the title: "I'm not looking at jihad as battle.I'm looking at the greater jihad in Islam, which is the jihad as the struggle with the self.I also thought it was really compelling to take a word that only has one connotation for most -- to take that, reclaim it and put it in the same phrase as love,which is universal.I really think it explains it very well.

Film Screening

A Jihad for Love first premiered in Toronto International Film Festival(TIFF) in September 2007.At its premier,the director was given a security guard for safety reasons.After this film festival A Jihad for Love got huge applaud internationally.A Jihad for Love film premiered as the opening film of Panorama Documente of the Berlin Film Festival in February 2008.

The film was screened in The Rio Film Festival,Brazil on September 2007,Morelia Film Festival,Mexico, on October 2007,The Sheffield DocFest on November 2007,London Gay & Lesbian Film Festival on March 2008,Melbourne International Film Festival on July 2008,Thessaloniki Documentary Film Festival on March 2008,etc.A Jihad for Love's first premier in African continent was The Out in Africa Film Festival in Johannesburg and Cape Town,November 2007. On April,2008 A Jihad for Love film was successfully screened at Istanbul International Film Festival.It was the first time that the film allowed to screen in a muslim-majority country.Film also screened in Q! Film Festival of Indonesia.Although singapore banned the film from festival in 2008 due to its sensitive subject.

Popularity

A Jihad for Love film's sale and broadcast on NDTV, South Asia's largest network in 2008 would have a "remarkable" impact on this LGBTQ cause. "NDTV's broadcast has in effect made the film available to over one billion viewers in India,Bangladesh,Pakistan, & large portions of the Middle East and Africa.The various distributors and their Total Rating Points in European television, the Indian/South-Asian sale with its claimed footprint of 15 billion viewers, the theatrical release & the purportedly large numbers of Netflix viewers made the filmmakers and the TRP experts arrive at a number of 8 million total viewers calculated over a period of four years for this documentary.

International Muslim Dialogue Project

Immediately after the film's theatrical launch around the USA,Parvez & Sandi launched the International Muslim Dialogue Project on 2008.The aim of the project was to organize screenings of the film in Muslim Capitals.Sharma called it the "Underground Network Model" of film distribution.He invented this model sending unmarked DVD's of the film with friends & colleagues to Muslim capitals across the world with full permission to sell pirated copies.Some of the boldest were Beirut,Cairo,Karachi,eight cities in Indonesia & Kuala Lumpur

The film was screened privately screened in Iran,Palestine,Bangladesh and Somalia.