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makeitagood0neao3 · 6 months ago

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Weather Me To Nothing (1/4)

Pairing: Dark!Paul Atreides x Female!Reader

Word Count: 3,916

Summary: Reader is the heir to the throne with an impossible choice to make. Torn between protecting her sisters and finding her way in the universe, will she make the right choice?

Warnings: Dark!Paul Atreides. 18+ only! Explicit sexual content. Arranged Marriage. Non con. See tags for more.

A/N: Welcome and enjoy! Comment and kudos are always welcome <3 Crumble like a temple built from future daughters, To wasteland when the oceans recede.

Read Part 2

The chamber is so quiet, the heels of your shoes echo off the walls as you approach the throne. He is sitting on his gold throne, the House Corrino crest behind him. The lion is bright, making you blink hard as it reflects the light simulating daylight. Behind you, the heavy doors that offer complete privacy clang shut, sealing you in. The hall is nearly empty with only his most trusted advisors and Mentats present. A controlled amount of witnesses. As a child, the sight of the Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV would stop you in your tracks until your mother swept you into her arms and carried you to him. As his eldest child, you were a representation of not only the House, but your younger sisters as well. Now an adult, every movement you make it watched, hesitations noted. Should the tempo of your gait falter, it will be documented. You father still fills the room, though not in size. You once imaged him as huge, the size of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen.

Your father has aged. Perhaps only you can see how his shoulders slump in his chair, though you know his physicality is not a representation of his power. Even now, as you pass by scattered members of his court, you can sense their tension, their straight spines and clenched jaws. He doesn’t need to raise his hand to strike anyone down, including you. When your mother died, he made you an example of your sister’s behavior in front of his followers. The last time you were here just mere weeks ago was the most furious you’ve ever seen him, though his wrath didn’t end in physical punishment.

Playing the long game, he knew to keep you waiting on your planet. Day by day with your toes in the warm sand on the shore, night by night kept distracted from your studies and instead obsessing over this moment, waiting for the moment he would call upon you to return. The Emperor is always a step ahead and you’ve always been clumsy.

Impulsive. Insolent. A disgrace.

You keep your gaze low, though your chin level, every click of your heel is a countdown until you are in front of him. You half bow, a sign of respect, though you have none for the man. When you meet his gaze, you ensure a light smile is on your lips, as if happy to see him. He meets you with the same grin, the crows feet around his eyes deepening. You learned as a child that his throne is also a stage. A place where he can play any role he chooses.

The forgiving Emperor. The doting father. The aging fanatic.

“Daughter. Thank you for arriving so quickly. I hate to take you away from your studies.”

“I answer every call from my Emperor and father,” you smile back. Knowing he wants to hear this above all else, you assure him of your loyalty to him and his empire.

“I have been reflecting on your most recent transgressions against this family and I believe I have found a way for you to atone.”

“I ask again, where is the evidence of this transgression?” You challenged lightly.

You still don’t agree that sending an anonymous warning to Duke Leto that his mission on Arrakis was an attack on his family and House was a transgression. Treason against the Emperor, yes. No one in this court had proof it was you, except for your outspoken disagreement before him and his council. It took hours to slip away from your guards and lure the transmissions Mentat away from his post. The message was sent, but it seems too late. He was reported dead before dawn.

He lowers his chin, his angular face pointing at you like a bird of prey, ready to snatch you from the spot with his talons. It takes everything in your to keep your hands still at your sides, to not pick or clench your fingers. Behind you, the sound of the heavy doors open. You don’t take your eyes off of the predator in front of you, though, a coy smile on your lips. Heavy footsteps echo as the visitors approach. Refusing to give into him, you keep your gaze fixed ahead.

“You have been of age for quite some time. As my oldest daughter, I have saved your union for a worthy ally. I have found the most loyal of them to strengthen the empire!” He says this with enthusiasm, deep in his deluded belief. Everything he does is to strengthen his position.

Your smile falters, lips pressed tightly as you clasp your hands together in front of you, hoping to prevent them from shaking. You knew this was coming, one day. Though as the least poised and submissive daughter in his line, you doubted he would risk marrying you off with an ally. Keen on keeping your nose in books and studies on your quiet planet, you have successfully avoided meeting most eligible matches while portraying the attitude of aloof. Most of the wealthy bachelors don’t want to work too hard to woo someone smarter than them. Someone who has everything and is impressed by nothing. You have tried to instill this in your younger sisters to no avail.

His pleased expression is not enough to convince you that this is not a punishment. Atonements in House Corrino are paid in blood. Duke Leto atoned for his House’s success in the empire with his. Your mother paid for it when she died in child labor. Though you share a bloodline with the Emperor, you are subject to the same kind of cruelty.

The footsteps are loud and thunderous before the stop directly behind you, an ominous shadow. You can feel their gaze on your back, but you are too afraid to see who it is. Too afraid of giving your father the satisfaction of your dismay on your face. To your right, a large form invades your space, standing so his shoulder nearly grazes yours.

At least a head taller than you, the brother of the beast, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. He’s lean, made of chiseled muscle built to slaughter his enemies. His pale skin is contrasted by his black armor. His hairless head emphasizes his deep set black eyes. He doesn’t spare you a glance, instead keeping his attention on the Emperor. You turn back to your father, eyes wide as you shake your head. Always ready with a quip, you are truly speechless. This man killed his own father and not known for his brain, but his brutality.

This is the man your father settles you with?

“Feyd-Rautha has come a long way, Y/N.”

“Father-”

“How is the Dune, Feyd?”

“Spice production is higher than ever, thanks to the harvesters you delivered, Emperor.” It comes out in a rasp, mimicking the sound of his uncle’s voice without the depth.

Dune. You hated that fucking planet having spent an entire standard year there as punishment for something you can’t even remember. The moon the locals referred to as The Hand Of God prevented you from communicating with your sisters while there. Completely excommunicated, when the sun set, you were expected to dine with Vladimir and his kin and most nights you did.

On the rare occasion he wasn’t present, he left you alone with Feyd-Rautha. Neither of them kept it secret that they desired you to join the Harkonnen family permanently. Vladimir complimented your intelligence and strategic mind, while assuring you that your figure could carry and birth a healthy army of great nephews for him.

When your sentence was complete, you left with your skin hot and dry, without so much as a glance back. Upon your arrival, you nearly begged your father to never send you back. He gave you his word so long as you understood your place was behind him and his decisions, you were free from Arrakis.

To keep you from further embarrassing him and his legacy, he sent you on the sabbatical you had currently been on. Out of the way, out of sight, out of mind.

“Do you plan on staying on Arrakis or does your uncle’s business require you on Giedi Prime?”

“I will remain on Arrakis to ensure the production of Spice doesn’t stop. My brother has other responsibilities. My priority right now is to find the remaining members of House Atreides.” There’s a layer of humor in his tone. As if he isn’t standing before one of the most terrifying men in the universe. Perhaps he doesn’t believe he is.

Your head snaps to look at him. For being on a desert planet the majority of his life, he words are cold, lifeless. He would kill anyone his uncle told him to and not contemplate any differently. This man took on three of the best Harkonnen slave fighters in a gladiator game recently and left the arena without a scratch.

A marriage to Feyd-Rautha would mean a lifetime of breeding on a planet so hot it could kill you within two hours in the sand without a Stillsuit. The Harkonnen home planet is no better. Time passes slower, a standard year is almost three of that on Arrakis. It’s heavily industrialized, without oceans or forests. A heavy layer of fog covers the planet, blocking out the stars. If there are any visible nearby. Juxtaposed to the quiet sounds of shifting sand on Arrakis, their planet is loud and booming. No. That is not a life you can live.

“Be sure when you find the son, he is not injured. The other houses in the Empire are not pleased with the way they were handled. There has been chatter amongst them. We don’t want to give them more to talk about.”

An Emperor, no matter how powerful, is nothing without followers. Two Houses are nothing against the legions of the known universe.

“What will you do when you find him?” I ask, curious as to what his fate will be if he isn’t going to kill him.

“Prepare him for your wedding ceremony, of course.” This stuns me and at my stillness, Feyd-Rautha turns to face me. You don’t move, unable to comprehend the strategy of this game. “You are to be married to Paul Atreides. Imagine my surprise when we found out he was alive. I was further surprised when he asked for the hand of one of my daughters. A plea for peace and an alliance.”

“What about Irulan?”

“Irulan is the eldest. She is meant for a worthy match. You seemed to enjoy your time on Arrakis. Making allies with the local swine.”

You don’t speak, stunned for the third time in this discussion. How does he, and to what extend, does he know about your involvement with the Fremen? The help you offered was limited, they mostly refused your help, but you did what you could while there. And you were discrete, not even the Baron knew of your treachery.

Feyd narrows his eyes at you, assessing. He’s wondering why you over your sisters. The answer is simple. Your infertility makes you the perfect match for the bloodline that survived an assassination. The Atreides line will not continue if Paul weds you. Is Paul a vengeful man? What will he do to you when he finds out? Perhaps that’s the Emperor’s hope.

The hand of your father’s cruelty.

“You would give a beloved daughter to the son of the man you had murdered?”

“I like to think of it as ‘removed.’”

“It was an assassination. Who’s to say he won’t take revenge on you by killing me?” It’s the perfect solution to the problem you continue to be for him and is enough of a reason to declare war against House Atreides. He’d have the support of the whole universe.

You slump, shoulders no longer pulled back as your spine bends. The weight of your future is too heavy to hold. Your eyes drop to the floor, unable to keep them on your father, your executioner. Perhaps it’s safer with Feyd-Rautha and you can’t believe that’s the corner you've been backed into.

“That is why, dear daughter, you will kill him before he has the chance to.”

Feyd opens a pocket over his chest and pulls out a teardrop shaped vial with a blue liquid inside. It’s small in his palm as he holds it out to me. You stare at it, afraid that touching it will mean you am agreeing to this.

“This came from one of the herbalists. They found the plant deep underground on Arrakis. It’s a very old mixture that will put one into a deep sleep they won’t wake from. You are a humanitarian, so I have ensured it will be painless.” Feyd voice is kind, but you know it’s one of his manipulations. It was likely his uncle who decided on this poison.

“Is this a Bene Gesserit tincture?” You ask your father. His lips curl just slightly at the edges. You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t kill some-”

“Your interference before is why he is still alive. A loose thread and a threat to this family, to your sisters. Imagine the pain you have caused him, by allowing him to survive.” Your father’s voice from his seat is clear and firm. It is an order you can’t deny, regardless of my convictions.

“And what will I get for this act of loyalty for my Emperor?” I ask him, countering.

He is pleased, his talons curling over the arms of the chair. He pulls himself up and walks half way down the stairs to where we stand. Still keeping the high ground, but seemingly meeting you halfway.

“You get to be free. Free to continue your studies, on whatever planet you wish, and with whomever you wish, or alone.”

It’s too good to be true. He knows being left alone and away from the politics and his bidding is all you desire. You would relinquish your name, title, everything, just for peace. You weigh the options.

If you refuse, you are forced to marry the worst the universe has to offer, forced to stay within the Emperor’s reach as he murders anyone who stands in the way of him and House Atreides. If you agree, it is painless for Paul and only one casualty has to perish. The universe will think it was the Fremen who murdered him and you can live as a widow, tainted by the Atreides heir, alone wherever you choose.

Feyd-Rautha, for once, has read you correctly. You are a humanitarian and knowing you have taken the suffering of your sisters for them, knows you will also save as many people as you can.

You turn to Feyd, palms sweaty with anxiety, and take the vial.

The harsh, unforgiving sun eclipses Dune as the Emperor’s Flagship approaches the planet. You are seated in the haul, a Sardaukar guard on either side of you. Two is light protection, but since you are traveling to a planet with almost the entirety of the Harkonnen army, they are really operating as a formal escort.

Your repeated requests to say goodbye to your sisters were denied. The Emperor commanded you to take immediate leave for Arrakis. Feyd-Rautha nearly drug you from the chamber and to his ship, the rest of his posse stomping closely behind.

You hate to admit it, but for now, Feyd is your biggest protector during this transaction. He sits across from you, his face calm as he watches you like a predator, waiting for the moment to strike. His eyes drop to your chest, where the vial of poison hands around your neck beneath your shawl. It’s cold, the glass hasn’t warmed to the temperature of your skin. You don’t expect it will, either.

Once you arrive, Feyd will escort you to Arrakeen where you will surely dine with the Baron. The day after before dawn, Fed will escort you to meet Paul at a neutral place for the ceremony. Without the chance to say goodbye to your sisters, it’s difficult to imagine seeing them again. Being sent to this desert feels like an exile this time. After you complete the task given to you, you’ll be altered, different. Will your sisters even recognize you after this?

The ship enters the atmosphere and begins descending to the ground. Several Sardaukar ships accompanied by the Harkonnen fleet have landed before you, setting a safety perimeter for the flagship to land. The ship connects with the ground and settles, your guards standing before you. You stand as well, pausing in the middle of the haul as you wait for the door to open. Feyd-Rautha is next to you, preventing the Sardaukar guard from taking his position, invading your space.

“Don’t think I am as foolish as I pretend to be,” if he had eyebrows, they’d be furrowed in his glare.

“I don’t-” Your voice is cut off by his firm hand on your bicep, causing the Sardaukar to place their hands on their swords, though they don’t draw them.

“This arrangement to the Atreides bastard is an insult to my uncle and House Harkonnen. We have done your father’s bidding for generations.”

“Then contact my father for payment.“ Furious he thinks he has the right to place his hands on you, you cannot stop venom that drips in your words.

“You will not leave this planet without me as a husband. I have waited long enough.” He says it with so much confidence. Though unpredictable, he’s never been this aggressive. What makes him think that your guard, the tactical warriors more brutal than Harkonnen’s, won’t remove every one of his extremities if he touches you?

“It’s time you let me go,” you say, though he doesn’t release you. “In more ways than one, it seems.” Your eyes drag from his to the warrior beside you, who appears ready to attack, but is hesitating. If this were anyone else, their swords would have been drawn.

Feyd-Rautha glances at the guard behind you as he leans forward, a fraction closer, before finally dropping your arm. He is testing the boundary line, waiting to be stopped. He turns and leads you out. Before following behind, you glance behind you at your guards, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. It’s a warning to not hesitate again.

The dry and suffocating heat is immediately pressed upon you as you stop into the sun. Doing your best not to flinch at the wind cutting into your skin, you hold your chin level and keep your eyes on him. He is more impulsive than you recall, making him all the more dangerous. He’s approaching a Thropper, hundreds of Harkonnen surrounding the landing zone. They make a show of greeting you, an extension of the Emperor himself.

You call to him when he is halfway up the ramp. He stops and turns, only giving you half his physical attention. You come to a dead stop just before the ramp. Without dropping your smirk, your eyes drop to the step before meeting his. Elegantly, you pull your arm out from beneath your shawl, reaching for him. His eyes drop to your hand as he contemplates.

Though the wealthiest in the Empire, accumulating more wealth than even the Emperor, Harkonnens live in a primitive mindset. Women are not their equal nor worthy of their respect. They are warriors first, the ultimate toxic masculine. You are still a lady, however, and unable to resist knocking him down a peg in front of his warriors.

Still unsure how you will get yourself out of this without murder or marrying anyone, if Feyd-Rautha is right, and you are forced to marry him, you need his men to understand you are not a dog on leash. Their traditions don’t apply to you and you won’t be treated any differently than you currently are.

Finally, he agrees to play this game. Walking down the ramp, he steps off to the side. Once his feet are on the same ground as you, he returns the smirk and offers you his hand. You take it and step onto the ramp. His hand steadies you as you walk up before releasing you once you’re too high. Before your guard can follow, he’s on the ramp again, trailing closely behind you.

His sigh of displeasure is immediate as soon as you find your seat at the front behind the controls. He stands next to you, but you pay him no mind as you buckle yourself in.

“I insist-”

“As do I.” Not even glancing at him as you begin to flip on the overhead switches, starting the motor and engines. You take the aviation headset that rests on the steering handle and put it on. Your actions are enough to silence him, so he sits in the chair beside you, muttering something in Galach you can’t catch from beneath the headset.

The engine reverberates through the floor and sand swirls on either side of the glass when the propellers start. A guard behind you raises the ramp and when it closes, you lift off.

You didn’t think it was possible for this planet to become any more plain, but it has. Mounds of sand surround you in every direction. The spice on the top layer glimmering in the sun, reflecting it’s bright hue back to you. It’s hot even in the Thropper so you slide the shawl off of your shoulders. A fraction of your skin is on display around the thick straps of your dress.

A few hundred meters in front of you, a shimmering object catches your sight. Angling the Thropper toward it, you slow and see it’s a brand new spice harvester. The gears inside the machine tracks are free of rust and the steel casings aren’t discolored from the spice. Your father has spared no expense.

“These are bigger,” Feyd-Rautha’s voice comes through your headset. “We’ve been harvesting one and a half times more a month than ever before. Each comes with an entourage to keep the locals at bay.” His eyes are on you when you turn to look at him, but he’s focused on your shoulder. Fighting the eye roll, you turn back to the window and see two Throppers circling above the harvester, no doubt armed.

You don’t agree with the treatment of the Fremen or the aggression shown to them. This is their planet, their commodity. If anything, your father should be paying them to allow his presence here. It takes a hard people to live here, you can’t imagine ever adjusting to the effects of spice.

Even now, your heart rate speeds up and you attempt to slow your breath. The spice kicked up from the harvester is now filtering through into the Thropper, leaving you to blink hard to focus. Most experience mild hallucinations, but in the year you spent here, it just made you paranoid and unsteady. It heightened sensations and slowed your movements. How can the Harkonnen’s be so unaffected? You regain control over your mental state and continue on.

Landing at the capital, Arrakeen, your guards exit before you. Halfway down the ramp, Feyd-Rautha’s large, pale hand is extended for you to take. You accept, stepping off, and following him as he leads you towards your room. Once there, behind the closed door, you sit in the nearest chair and breathe deep, trying to steady yourself.

Read Part 2

#dark!paul atreides #x reader #dark!paul atreides x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #manipulation #inappropriate use of the voice

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