#down baroness fic

[ficbrish]

Chapter 1 - Transgression

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[Ao3 link]

[[TW/CW: Suffocating gender roles, gender dysphoria, rigid society, self-destruction, degradation, anonymous sex, references to past spousal abuse/marital noncon, death mentions, cptsd]]

Summary: The baron is dead, but recently-widowed Vistri still isn't free of his clutches. Suffocating in her gilded cage, she meets a rakish stranger alone in the woods at night. He might just be her key to shedding respectability and the weight of her late-husband's great name.

“I am sick with ballrooms!” Vistri proclaimed, throwing off her gloves and stomping out into the garden.

The frazzled housekeeper gave the other servants in the foyer a warning look: No one was to mention this outburst beyond the manor's walls.

Satisfied by the immediate flare of oath-like promises in all their eyes, the housekeeper hurriedly followed after her mistress, almost tripping over the footman collecting the fallen gloves. After a swift apology, she called out, “Baroness! Wait!”

Her impertinence, however, was already far from the reach of her mistress’ ears, swallowed up by a thick tree line. Vistri had torn through the mud as a shortcut instead of following the usual elaborate, stone path. She had no need to spare her dress, only to get away. To breathe air that the man who haunted her had never breathed.

Besides, her dress was already ruined. A pale, celestial blue silk turned black with custom. What was a mourning period to someone who couldn’t grieve? Other than a prison? A ruin of all color. A lack of society.

A reminder, that even after death, one was still just that old man’s wife.

Gasping, Vistri slammed her back against a tree. That dead man had claws and they reached up through the ground, snaking up her thigh like a vine. Growing and climbing to her throat, where it would cling and drag her down into his cold embrace. Never letting her go.

“Ma’am! You cannot go!” her own housekeeper forbade her. Her own staff.

Because they were his staff, not hers. Everyone who resided in that house served a man currently turning into dirt. Worms swallowed his flesh and shat him out, yet all the while, everyone he’d ever controlled still lived for him.

It was improper to go to a ball this early in her mourning period.

“It would be rude.”

Rudeness was ruin.

Well, her clothes were ruined! Salivating creditors showed up at her door before concerned neighbors. The cook refused to change the menu from his late-master’s preferences. And once Vistri was finally free of her husband’s willowy, lecherous fingers, she was to wait a whole other season before entertaining the possibility of another suitor.

Gods, it had been years since she dreamed of being touched. And when that cursed, old man drew his last breath, she felt her first shiver of lust. Celebration ached in her bones. Freedom was so near it ran away with all her senses.

A whole other year before she was allowed to be touched. And even then; a peck on her knuckles, the span of a dance.

Unless she wrapped another collar around her neck.

But even if she did want such a thing, who would choose to marry a widow over a virgin? Widows were Eve after the fruit. They'd tasted too much to settle for nothing ever again.

Perhaps that was why she'd given in to her housekeeper’s insistence with a childish fit, shouting, “I am sick with ballrooms!” as if it were her own idea and desire not to go. Then ran into the woods just because it was somewhere else, not within those walls.

She couldn’t breathe. The neckline on her dress was not very high but it was choking her. Vistri struggled with its buttons along her spine, but her damp, clumsy hands couldn’t undo them. She was as trapped in this dress as she was trapped in the confines of marriage. Of a woman’s role.

And just when she felt as alone as one could feel in the world, Vistri felt the presence of another.

Through the trees came the shape of a lone rider.

Her heart sank and then pounded sickeningly, the drumbeat fast in her ears as her mind raced with indecision; whether to run or stay absolutely still. She could barely hear her thoughts over its warning rhythm. The skies were darkening. She was alone. Even though this was her property, the forest was nature’s domain. If the rider was a stranger, his approach could bring death. If the rider was instead someone she knew, his approach could bring scandal.

They came into view of one another as she debated which was worse.

He turned out to be a man with silver hair on a silver horse. A stranger.

So death it is.

Vistri smiled and greeted him warmly, “Good day, sir.”

Too warmly.

There was a manner of pleasant surprise about the stranger, like his discovery of her were something slightly out of the ordinary, and not a threateningly strange moment.

Then he tipped his hat and said, “Or good evening, more the like.”

Vistri bit her lip, hating this man already. She couldn’t stand to be corrected on irrelevant details!

If he intended to kill her, she hoped he’d do it fast and not drag on with useless conversation beforehand. But some exchange of words was now necessary, because she'd already stupidly greeted him and he'd returned it. However, searching convention for an acceptable string of words proved impossible, for meeting upon a stranger in the woods, at night, as a lady defied convention. Unless said lady were a prostitute, in which case…

Her hand flew to the front of her dress. The delicate silk of its neckline was torn from her recent fussing, but the minimal damage did little to expose her. Even so, Vistri held a hand up to her throat in an instinctually protective gesture—As if ready to strangle herself; take the chance away from other hands.

“You are correct,” she said with nervous bitterness, “It is getting quite dark. Pardon me, such a thing escaped my notice—”

She would have finished with, “as we are on my property, of which I call home,” but stopped herself, realizing that such information may doom rather than save her. Landed gentry could fetch an exorbitant ransom.

The rider waited for her to finish, but she didn’t go on.

“And do you know what else escaped our notice?” he goaded.

Vistri remained perfectly still. In her determination to give no response, she enticed with a delicious, frenzied silence.

The man answered as if she'd shaken her head, declaring with a sly flair of his hand, “Introductions.”

“Are we to be introduced?”

It was a question that fell from her mouth thoughtlessly, thick and automatic. Something she’d said so many times before, it eventually became habit and the query lost all meaning. Her lips had spoken for her, mindlessly uttering words that invited rather than pushed away.

The stranger nodded, “In polite society, people are introduced to one another. But usually there is someone else to do the introducing. Whereas here there is just… you and I.”

She couldn’t tell if his slight pause was threat or seduction. Maybe this stranger just had a sick sense of humor. Vistri didn’t care either way. She just wanted whatever this was to conclude as swiftly as possible.

“Then I guess we must remain strangers," she shrugged, "Not one name shall pass between us.”

Unexpectedly, Vistri felt her heart patter with those words as they pranced off her tongue. Not because she was unused to being bold, but because it left open everything else that could pass between them. Everything but names.

He was still too far away for his expressions to be properly made out, but Vistri found her feet closing the distance. Suddenly willing to let the moment linger.

“Have you lost your way?” he asked with a wry look. Or perhaps one of apprehension.

“I have not.”

“And yet you are here,” his statement sounded almost like a question. Again, either threat or seduction. Death or ruin, “All alone.”

Alone.

How she so longed for that to be true. No other people. No heavy name.

“Do you take offense at that, sir?”

He paused, playfully, before answering, “It’s just that there are devils out here who would rob you of your purse.”

Close enough now to take in his face, Vistri noticed the show of concern it wore for the smirk it actually was. His riding clothes were fine but worn, like he often travelled around. Immediately, she took him for the rakish sort instead of a true gentleman.

He flashed a grin over that smirk, and added, “Or your virtue.”

Where there should have been fear, there was only a hollow drive fueled by something that tasted like brazen audacity.

“Only maidens can have virtue, and I am no maiden.”

“Well, well. What a pair we make. Only gentlemen can have virtue, and I am no gentleman.”

Vistri figured he could be an actor or a vagabond. Same thing, really. Both just as likely to do something nefarious, free from watchful eyes.

A long look passed between them, intense calculations being conducted behind their masked expressions. They were both spinning theories: What was the sum of this stranger in the woods? Who were they?

What would they allow?

“May I approach?” he asked, even though she already had.

“That depends. Is your intention to rob me?”

His chuckle was composed and a bit forced, prefacing his assurance that, “I am after a brief respite. Nothing more.”

Vistri nodded.

The stranger dismounted.

The ether shifted palpably as his feet met the ground. Upon his horse, they were passerbys. Whereas now they were on equal footing, and he was securing his reins to a branch. Their meeting had gone from a crossing of paths to a visit.

A tryst.

With no names.

If they were to be discovered even now, it would surely be the scandal of the season. Ruinous. Utterly and entirely ruinous. The prospect of such consequences was a bleeding itch that still felt good to scratch.

Light through the trees burned orange. Shadows around them grew thicker.

“My condolences.”

The sudden loudness of the man’s voice startled Vistri back to attention, “What?” 

He gestured to her wardrobe, “Are you not in a period of mourning?”

Smirking, she said exactly what was on her mind, “There is a simple answer to that, and complicated one. The simple answer is a falsehood, and the complicated answer is something private that you are not privy to.”

“How disappointing. I do so love a complicated story.”

This time his smile brought Vistri's notice to his mouth. Truly seeing his features for the first time, she had the strangest urge to linger upon the sight.

“Then I give you permission to make one up. Tell me, am I in mourning?” she asked, not because she had something to say; just to watch his lips move again.

He seemed amused and surveyed her for a moment with crossed arms.

“Yes and no,” he finally said. “You wear the costume, sure enough, but there is more anger in your eyes than sadness—Shall I go on?”

Captivated by his accuracy, she nodded.

“You do not have the deep circles of someone in deep grief, but there is a weariness about you. As though sleep has eluded you. But the cause of that sleeplessness? That’s a bit harder to place... Perhaps whoever left your life, left a ghost behind.”

Vistri could no longer breathe. This man in the woods seemed to read her heart so easily, it made her wonder if she wore it on her sleeve. Were her ugly truths truly as hidden as she thought?

“That sounds complicated indeed.”

He gave a little bow, “I aim to please.”

She blushed at her own boldness, asking, “Do you?”

Another flavor of smirk graced his lips. This one more confident than teasing. He stepped slightly closer, just enough for her to catch wind of the heated curiosity brewing in his eyes.

That same heat sunk into his voice, “Is that something you’ve been missing?”

“How can someone miss something they’ve never had?”

It sounded more pathetic than she'd meant it, her words less careful with her mind racing and tripping so.

“Seems a travesty for you to spend your life without it. What a waste of a pretty thing.”

All she could manage to do next was breathe and watch his approach, until they were only a step away.

“What happened here?” he asked, gesturing to the ruin of her neckline, giving an impertinent stare to her chest.

His boldness offered her a way out. A reason to hit and spurn him. Or perhaps he was waiting for a sign from her to move forward. For her to reach out and caress him.

Or maybe she was reading him too kindly. He did admit he was no gentleman, after all.

Good.

Vistri longed to be reckless. To cross a line she could never uncross. To sever herself through time so that she could never be who she was now, again.

Arching her back, she answered, “It was choking me.”

The stranger clicked his tongue and cooed, “Poor dear.”

Closer now, his scent whispered to her through the forest lush. Sweet herbs and a hint of brandy that grew stronger with his next words.

“Do you require assistance?” he asked; a tender voice with rabid eyes.

With no idea what would happen to her if she said yes, Vistri nodded. Nothing that happened to her mattered. She couldn’t remember a time when it did. But she was a lady from a great family that bore a name heavy with greater history and property. She wanted someone to take that away from her. Make her nothing.

“There is a tear, here,” she pointed to the one on the swell of her breast. Inviting him to look.

He was captivated.

Not even her husband gazed so unabashedly. Vistri felt naked blushing under his stare.

“Do you think it can be mended?” she asked. Inviting him to touch. Her voice surer than her blood.

He obligingly brought a delicate finger up to her breast as it danced with the rise and fall of her rapid breath. Lightly tracing the torn fabric of her dress.

“Oh no, dear,” he spoke low, “I think it is absolutely ruined.”

She groaned and it sounded like someone else. Vistri was already changing from this dalliance. Even if she were to indignantly slap his face and get away now, she could still never be who she was before.

But the baroness did not deserve such a gentle death. Vistri needed to torture who she used to be in order to bury it for good. The baroness did not even deserve lips. Closing her eyes in surrender, Vistri allowed the stranger to take them. She didn't need those anymore.

He must’ve been the devil himself, because his skin was all fire and stars. The whole world dissolved in his touch, leaving only heat.

“Ruin it more,” she pleaded once capable of speech.

With a wicked smile, the stranger ripped her dress, exposing her bodice. She gasped. Her cleavage heaved in spherical waves and the transgression turned a switch, obliterating every hesitation.

Vistri reached into his coat for his trousers, running her hand along his thigh until she found the clear line of his arousal. He rewarded her with a moan that was almost too loud in her ear. It broke over her senses like a tidal wave, drowning her in desire.

Her back pressed into a tree. He pressed hard into her. Through their clothes they rutted and groaned and supped each other’s kiss like two young aristocrats who didn’t quite yet know the ins and outs of fornication.

Overcome then by a need to be caught in the worst position imaginable, Vistri dropped to her knees.

Unbuttoning his buttons, she sighed, “My late husband had such an ugly cock. Please tell me you have a pretty one.”

His fiery chuckle made the back of her neck prickle, like it had been hit with a ray of sun.

“By all means, be the judge.”

She obliged, pulling his trousers down to his knees. His alabaster thighs reminded her of those marble statues carved to worship the male form.

“Well?” he asked teasingly, “What do you think?”

“I didn’t know men had the capacity to be pretty,” she answered honestly.

His hands gently stroked her jawline, “I’d be even prettier between your lips, my sweet.”

Vistri eagerly opened up her mouth. It was surprising, how much she liked the way he guided it in.

“Easy now,” he sighed, throwing his head contentedly back, “There are so many other ways I’d love to defile you.”

Again, he seemed to magically recite the contents of her heart. Vistri had no idea it were possible for such passion to channel through her shallow, emptied form. She suddenly needed him. Needed to feel everything she could feel from this passing stranger, as much as she could carry with her and hoard for a lifetime.

The stranger took himself away, pulling himself out from between Vistri's lips just to push her to the ground. He did so roughly and with roguish gusto, breaking her fall in his arms. Dodging her kiss, he tossed her around; positioning her on all fours, lifting her skirts. Vistri couldn’t see his face, or anything that he did behind her. All she could do was savor his defilement on hands and knees.

His flaming touch.

“Why do fine ladies have so many layers?” he complained.

Maybe it was the break in intensity, but Vistri found herself laughing. Not just an awkward chuckle, but a full, hearty laugh. Something rich and cathartic she’d long forgotten the sound of.

Which quieted at the feeling of cool air meeting her uncovered skin.

All of Vistri's breath got caught within a small pocket of her throat. When the stranger's warm hand met her exposed thigh, she cried out from want alone.

His fingers laid claim to her first, undoing Vistri in a series of strokes. She cried out even louder with her actual ecstasy, a part of her hoping to be discovered. The deliciously devastated look on her housekeeper’s face when she found her mistress in the dirt, on all fours, reaching her critical period in a stranger’s palm, would be worth the lifetime of ruin.

Death never felt this good.

“Fuck me like a farm animal,” she begged, the pleasure tapering off of her awakened senses. No respected baroness got fucked from the back in the woods, on hands and knees, by a nameless cad. Vistri figured she could be the first.

They cried out together as he knelt between her legs and buried his root. He tore her open, and whimpering like a pup, thrust into her again and again. She rocked roughly back into his thrusts. Soon, she was coming undone once more.

He fiendishly pulled out as she was still pulsing around him, and panted his command, “Stand up.”

She groaned and dragged herself up into a very undignified crouch. Smiling down at her predicament, the stranger stood first. Vistri followed, needing more of his heat.

He took a moment to examine her state before coming in close, taking the burden of her weight off weak knees. With theatrical observation, the stranger spoke softly by her ear.

“Look at how you tremble. Weak from pleasure. Your body begging for more of mine as mine begs for more of yours.”

Forgetting the baroness, aware of only the stranger, Vistri leapt at his kiss, running her fingers through his silver curls with even more abandon than before.

“Mmm,” he moaned, “We are nameless strangers, and yet our bodies are so deeply devoted. What do you think? Should give into what they ache for?”

Again, he pressed her to a tree. This time hiking her thighs up over his waist before burying himself deep. Vistri shouted, answering yes over and over while he rutted with increasing speed.

Their mouths clashed until pleasure made it impossible. Ecstasy snatched them up simultaneously, and it ran through them both in violent shudders...

Too quickly, the strangers stood apart, jumping from the flames of the hells themselves, both the very picture of ruin. They looked at one another, covered in dirt, at various states of undress, in the darkened woods.

Colder now.

The man’s horse gave an impatient snort.

“He didn’t like our performance.”

Vistri laughed and admitted, “I thought it was all right.”

“Oh?” the stranger feigned offense, “Just all right?”

If any ounce of her marital act had been like this, she would’ve had a reason to grieve.

“Maybe a little better than that.”

They both stood there not knowing how to say goodbye. The horse snorted again.

“He doesn’t much like the dark,” the man explained.

“Right,” the night had fallen, “Well good evening, then.”

“Is it not night now?”

Impatiently, Vistri gave a bow and smiled, “Good night, then.”

But he stopped her as she turned away, unwilling to leave her alone in the dark wood. Vistri agreed to ride with him to the tree line but stubbornly insisted on going back the rest of the way herself.

At the edge of the forest they said their real goodbyes, sure they would never again cross paths. Maybe that’s why she left him with one last longing kiss before allowing her stranger to disappear forever.

[next chapter]

[yansurnummu]

To the Horrors I've Known and Loved

A story about change, parallels, and never being able to go home.

(Read on AO3. updates most Mondays. Warning for body horror themes, minor character death, fantasy weed smoking)

To the Horrors I've Known and Loved:

I often asked myself, if I could tell you one thing now, what would it be? The answer's changed a lot, over the years. 

Once there was a time where I cursed you. You took everything from me, and it made me so, so angry. I wanted to hurt you as you'd hurt me.

For a long time, I feared you. I was alone. I built walls for fear you might find me. And, oh, did I have a lot of time to build those walls into a bloody fortress. A prison of my own making.

Now… I'm not so sure. Grief is an odd thing. It sneaks up on you. Did you grieve for me that day? Or was I simply an obstacle in your path?

I thought I had done grieving long ago. But looking at you now, I realise I had been mourning something else entirely. An object, an idea, a place I could never see again. Some nebulous concept I wonder if I even really had in the first place.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is… even after everything that's happened, everything you did, everything I had to do; I forgive you. I do. Because I could have done the same. It would have been so easy. If anything, I should thank you. If you hadn't broken me, I would have ended up just like you. 

I look at you and I'm looking in a mirror. I see now that you and I are the same. The difference is in the fucking details.

[sansaorgana]

— STILL PURE

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

SUMMARY — Feyd yells at his daughter for interrupting him at work. His wife confronts him about his behaviour as she tries to explain to the little Countess that her father was never taught how to express love.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Feyd is already the Baron in this fic but I assumed women cannot inherit on Giedi Prime so the daughter is "only" a Countess while her younger brother is a Na-Baron. I used my headcanon that if half-Harkonnen children have hair, then they're white because they lack pigment. I also wanted her to have big black Harkonnen eyes so badly... Basically, I wanted Feyd's daughter to look like this:

WORD COUNT — 2,990

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL PURE

Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was circling around the big table in the conference room where the huge orb of Giedi Prime had been replaced with Arrakis’ one as one of his advisors was explaining the difficult situation regarding the spice production. The new wave of Fremen rebels who worshipped the long gone and deceased Muad’Dib decided to continue their idol’s legacy as they sabotaged the spice production controlled by The Harkonnen forces. The Governor of Arrakis was slowly losing control over the situation and Feyd would rather avoid going there himself. He was needed on Giedi Prime – especially now when The Emperor was on his deathbed. He had to be around in case something important would happen and everyone knew The Baron had his eyes set on the Imperial Throne. Feyd had to choose a new Governor of Arrakis or provide the current one with good advice, hoping for the Fremen problem to disappear soon. It was worrying him because it was giving him a bad reputation at the moment for having problems on Arrakis – it could make some leaders of the great houses to think he was not worthy enough to become the next Emperor.

Feyd’s hands were clasped behind his back as he circled like a shark and all his advisors looked down, taking a step back whenever he approached them. They knew his temper would only rise when he was angered whenever he would experience problems of such nature when it came to reigning over The Harkonnen properties.

“What does the Fremen leader say? Stilgar? That was his name?” Feyd barked at one of the scared advisors.

“Stilgar says he has no control over the cultists. He does not support their actions. He wants nothing but peace, my Lord,” the man bowed his head.

“How bad is it? The most important thing so far is to keep the problem on Arrakis a secret,” Feyd hummed to himself.

“Five percent of the decrease in the spice production income,” the other advisor answered. “Not bad, but can be noticeable in the amount we export.”

“We shall export some of our own private reserves to cover the loss. In the meantime, we have to deal with the cultists,” Feyd decided, already annoyed at the fact he had to sacrifice his own supplies just to cover up the careless governing of Arrakis which was not his fault. “Send more troops there, the operation should be classified confidential. Threaten Lord Volonov to take care of it. He’s got a month before I replace him with someone more capable…”

Quiet pat pat pat sound coming from the corridor was becoming louder and louder until the black doors finally opened slightly and the guard standing by them spotted a pair of two big black eyes staring up at him. 

“My Lord,” he tried to catch The Baron’s attention but Feyd had his back turned on him as he angrily explained the details of the operation to his advisors.

Little Countess Sevina Harkonnen gave the guard puppy eyes as she struggled with the heavy doors. She wanted to come inside and he didn’t know what to do. He was aware that his Lord Baron did not want to be interrupted but he didn’t want to close the door in the girl’s face either. He peeked outside but there was no servant around and The Baroness was not there either. He decided it would be better for the girl to come inside instead of letting her roam around the fortress alone.

She smiled widely at him and jumped inside the room happily as her white hair bounced. She was lucky enough to inherit most of her mother’s looks although her skin was paler, her hair lacked pigment and her pupils were nothing but two completely big black orbs – those were the eyes even her father did not have but they were a result of the pollution her mother’s body had been exposed to on Giedi Prime at the time of her pregnancy.

Not realising how tense the atmosphere in the room was, she approached her father as all the advisors and servants were making wide eyes at her. She stood behind The Baron and pulled on his shirt to make him turn around.

At first, he flinched at the odd feeling of someone pulling him. Who would dare to do that? He turned around quickly with an angry expression on his face but then he looked down and spotted his little daughter. She startled a bit at the sight of his annoyance but she kept staring at him with her big black eyes filled with love and excitement.

“What are you doing here?” Feyd barked at her.

“Can you play with me, daddy?” She pleaded with a big grin.

A few lords smirked at that and Feyd’s jaw clenched. Not only had she interrupted him but also humiliated him.

“Can’t you fucking see that I’m busy?!” He lashed out at her and she took a step back as her eyes filled with tears and betrayal. “Get out of here!” He pointed at the doors.

They opened at that very moment as the nanny entered the room and looked around, surprised at the sight of scared faces and the little Countess being in the centre of attention.

“There you are!” She opened her arms at the sight of the girl. “I’ve told you not to interrupt your father, he’s in the middle of a meeting,” she reminded nervously as the girl ran up to her and hid her face in the folds of her skirt. “Forgive me, my Lord,” the nanny bowed her head at Feyd-Rautha.

“You’re useless,” he drawled. “Get out.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” the woman held Sevina’s hand and walked out as quickly as possible.

You left the nursery where your son na-baron had just fallen asleep. On your way back to your chambers, you passed by the doors leading to your daughter’s room and you froze at the muffled sound of sobbing. Concerned, you decided to enter without knocking.

Little Sevina was crying on her bed as the scared nanny tried to calm her down by rubbing her back and shushing her.

“What is going on?” You asked as the doors closed behind you.

“M-my Lady Baroness,” the nanny stood up and straightened herself to bow down slightly.

“What happened? Why is she crying?” You asked her in an accusing tone.

“I… I lost her out of my sight when we were playing earlier today, I’m sorry… I found the young Countess in her father’s conference room. She had interrupted The Baron during a council… I think he lashed out at her, my Lady…” the woman tried to explain nervously as her hands shook.

“You’re useless,” you sighed and she widened her eyes. “Get out, I’ll deal with that myself,” you pointed at the doors and she bowed down once again before leaving quickly.

You approached the bed and sat on the edge of it as Sevina raised her head to look at you. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the sight of her cheeks covered in tears.

“What happened, sweet darling?” You asked her gently while you caressed her back.

“Why doesn’t daddy love me?” She asked with so much pain and sincerity in her tiny, shaky voice that you nearly cried yourself.

You knew it wasn’t true. Feyd-Rautha loved his daughter. Even though he had been a bit disappointed she was not a son in the beginning – he had only said not to worry about it much; that the boy would come next. He had been treating Sevina as if she was made of glass in the first months of her life, so scared of accidentally hurting her because hurt was all he knew.

“Oh, Sevina, don’t think that…” You sighed and leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Daddy loves you so much,” you assured her but of course she wasn’t convinced. “He would kill and die for you, little girl,” you added.

“I don’t want him to kill and die for me, mummy,” Sevina sobbed as those were the concepts she was too young to grasp. “I just want daddy to play with me.”

“He doesn’t know how to play, Sevina,” you fixed her ruffled hair while trying to explain calmly. “He didn’t have a mummy or daddy when he was your age. The way I kiss you or hug you and play with you… He has never had it, darling,” you felt a few tears streaming down your cheeks. You were angry at your husband for yelling at your daughter and making her feel unloved but you were also angry at all the suffering that he had gone through in his past.

There were scars and damages that could never be undone, no matter how much you loved someone.

“And you’re big enough to know that daddy shouldn’t be interrupted when he’s working. You know that he tends to get angry more easily then,” you reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wanted daddy to play with me,” she snuggled closer to you and you kissed the top of her head, rubbing her tiny arms with your thumbs and cradling her softly to calm her down.

Feyd had been back in your chambers already when you entered. You froze at the sight of him, irritated. However, he seemed to act as usual.

“Five percent,” he snapped at you, although not angrily. “We will have to replace the loss with our own supply so the other lords don’t realise we are expecting problems on Arrakis. That stupid son of a bitch Volonov can’t handle a few cultists and…”

“I don’t care about any of that,” you interrupted him and turned your back on him to approach your vanity table and sit by it, pretending to be more interested in reapplying the powder.

“What?” Feyd was visibly surprised as he watched you in disbelief. You had always been a support for him, especially in difficult times. You both had been plotting on how to take over the Imperial Throne and now you weren’t interested in something as important as the problems with harvesting spice on Arrakis? It didn’t make sense to him.

You ignored him and focused on brushing your hair now, watching him from the corner of your eye in the reflection of the mirror of your vanity table. He approached you, hesitantly.

“What do you mean you’re not interested?” He tilted his head as he leaned in, trying to intimidate you but you didn’t even flinch.

“I’ve just spent an hour calming down Sevina. You yelled at her,” you eventually looked up to look deep into his eyes. He took a deep breath in, irritated.

“She should have learnt by now not to interrupt me,” Feyd straightened his back and walked away. “She’s spoiled,” he added. “Knows nothing about discipline. It’s your fault.”

“She’s a little girl,” you turned around. “You can’t expect military habits from her. She’s your daughter, Feyd.”

“She’s lucky I only yelled. If I interrupted my uncle as a child like that, I’d be punished!” He raised his voice at you, frustrated that you were defending your daughter and making a problem out of something that he considered to be normal.

You hated it when he would raise his voice at you. You stood up angrily and yelled as well.

“Oh, so you think she should be raised the same way you were?!” You asked. “Alright then! Go to her room, grab her by the neck and flog her back with a whip just because she wanted to play with her father!” You pointed at the doors furiously as your eyes were burning with wrath. “Go on! I dare you.”

But Feyd didn’t even move. His jaw was clenched as he was staring at you speechlessly.

“Go. What are you waiting for?” You kept pushing him. “Go on.”

You kept looking into his eyes with so much intensity he eventually gave up and looked down, awkwardly as the guilt started to creep in. You won.

“You rejected her. She thinks you don’t love her,” your voice calmed down but it was still vicious. “And I was assuring her that you do but it felt as if I was assuring myself, too,” you added, just to hurt him. “I can’t stand to look at you, Feyd-Rautha,” you drawled and approached the doors to leave him alone but not without striking the final blow. “I can’t believe I wanted to give you children so badly,” you turned your head to look at him as he looked up, surprised at your words, “because you don’t deserve them.”

The doors opened in front of you and you walked out to go back to your daughter.

You were sitting on the black fluffy carpet in the middle of Sevina’s room. She was on your lap, with her tiny arms around your neck, cuddling you. There were toys scattered all around the floor but she wanted to take a break for the loving cuddles. She was very unusual for a half-Harkonnen and you were very aware of the fact she was making most people around feel uncomfortable.

Not only her father but everyone in the fortress were stiff around sweet little Sevina who was so full of life and curiosity, always wanting to hug everyone – even servants and guards. Wherever she went, there was a sound of laughter and a sudden feeling of warmth. Countess Sevina Harkonnen was the very first little girl living in that fortress in a long time and she was so different from all its inhabitants. She was too young to know that she was a daughter of Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen – a man feared all over the Empire. That her bloodline was cursed with death and violence. She was still pure and innocent. Perhaps she was a living proof that The Harkonnens were not born this way after all – but they were made in the endless cycle of abusive upbringing. You did not want the same fate for her. You knew she would have to get rougher with time but you hoped she would still remain gentle, too.

The doors to her room opened and you looked up. At the sight of your husband, you protectively put your arm around your little girl. You doubted that he wanted to do what you had angrily suggested before but you wanted to make sure he wouldn’t anyway. Sevina stiffened at the sight of her father and clung to you. It brought you pain to realise that at that very moment she was afraid of him.

“Sevina, we have to talk,” Feyd stood above you two as he started in a serious tone. You gave him a scolding look and your little girl hid her face in the crook of your neck, hiding. “You know perfectly well not to interrupt me while I’m working.”

Long silence occurred. You could see Feyd’s struggle as he had no idea what to do to fix this situation between him and his daughter.

“Sevina, apologise to daddy,” you looked down and she looked up with tears in her big black eyes. “You shouldn’t have interrupted him and you know that, darling,” your voice was soft and calm and she sniffed.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Sevina turned her body around to face him but she refused to look at him.

“Now, you apologise to Sevina for being mean,” you looked up at your husband and you spotted panic in his eyes. “Now,” you insisted sternly.

“I’m sorry for being mean to you,” Feyd crouched down to be on her level. She hesitantly looked at him. “Can I get a hug, too?” He asked and his voice broke a tiny bit. 

Slitting someone’s throat open was less awkward and unusual to him than to ask for a hug. Your heart ached for him but you were an adult capable of understanding his patterns. Sevina was not. 

Her heart was big, though, and she loved her father, so she would forgive him everything. She nodded her head with a happy smile and ran into his arms to squeeze him tight. Tears pricked your eyes at the sight.

“I love you, darling,” Feyd whispered quietly with his cheek pressed to the top of her head. “I would kill for you. I would die for you,” he confessed.

“But she doesn’t want any of that,” you explained. “She just wants you to spend time with her.”

“Is that right?” He looked down at his little girl and she looked up with her puppy eyes as she nodded. Her tiny hands reached out to cup his face.

“I love you, daddy,” she assured him. “Can you play with me?”

“I don’t know how to play, I’m sorry,” he admitted with guilt in his voice.

“I will teach you,” she hugged him again.

Feyd put his arms around his little girl and pulled her closer. You crawled on the carpet to give him a hug, too. You could feel that he was slightly trembling, so you leaned in to place a kiss on his temple as your hand caressed his head soothingly.

“It’s not weak to show affection,” you reminded him in a whisper. “I’ve never loved you more than when you are like this.”

Feyd laid his eyes on you. They were filled with a mix of pain, guilt and relief. At the end of the day, the only approval he was seeking was yours. You had him wrapped around your little finger.

“So, how do you want to play?” He asked Sevina as he caressed her white hair with admiration. She clapped her hands cheerfully.

“I want to be a Princess,” her eyes sparkled. “And you’ll be my guard.”

Feyd chuckled at that, showing off his black teeth. Sevina giggled as she had never found them scary.

“Soon enough, my darling one, you’ll be a real Princess,” he assured her.

MASTERLIST

[austinbutlerslovers]

Master List 100% Smut

💝Romantic ❤️‍🔥Passionate ⚠️Hardcore 🚨Deranged 🏆 TOP

••••••••••••••🎄Christmas Specials 🎄•••••••••••

🔗Under the Mistletoe 🔗Wrapped in Love 🔗How We Became Us

⚠️ Obsession 🏆 10.25 One Shot

❤️‍🔥 Power & Control One Shot

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 1 Pleasure & Pain 🏆✨

🚨Feyd Fantasy 2 Baroness & Breeder 🏆

⚠️Feyd Fantasy 3 Kill or Be Killed 🏆

🚨Feyd Fantasy 4 Madness & Mayhem 🏆✨

⚠️ Feyd Fantasy Part 5 Endless Empire

⚠️ Feyd Fantasy Part 6 Brazen Baron

🚨 Feyd Fantasy Part 7 Honor & Heir COMPLETE

💝How We Became Us NEW 12.25

💝Wrapped in Love NEW 12.22

💝 Model Patient NEW 12.14

🚨Edge of Desire NEW 12.11

❤️‍🔥Buzzcut 🏆 NEW 12.7

💝Thankful 11.28

❤️‍🔥Birthday Boy 11.24

❤️‍🔥New Fetish 🏆 11.22

❤️‍🔥The Massage 11.18

💝His Princess 🏆 11.13

❤️‍🔥Heavy 🏆 10.7

💝Austins Praises 10.6

💝One Night in Budapest 9.16

❤️‍🔥Fight Training 🏆 (Sub Austin)

💝Avec Moi 🏆 (anniversary sex)

💝Cat Daddy (fluff +smut)

❤️‍🔥Ride Me (kink)

❤️‍🔥Lazy Day 69 🏆

💝False God (meet cute)

💝Austins Bath

❤️‍🔥So Slutty (nipple play)

❤️‍🔥Wet Dream

❤️‍🔥Hollywood Authentic Feeling

🚨Austins Angst

❤️‍🔥Work Me Like Wet Clay (very first fic ever ✨)

❤️‍🔥After Hours 🏆 ✨ 9.24

❤️‍🔥Kiss it Better 10.13

❤️‍🔥Jealous 10.24

❤️‍🔥Playing Dirty 11.4

❤️‍🔥Zip Ties 🏆 11.7

❤️‍🔥Another Load 11.15

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Part 1: 🏆 ✨ Handsome Stranger 7.3

💝Benny Cross Part 2: The Vandals 7.16

❤️‍🩹Benny Cross Part 3: Playing House 7.22

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Part 4: ‘Til Death 8.29

❤️‍🩹Benny Cross Chapter 5 🏆 Broken Promises 9.4

❤️‍🔥Benny Cross Chapter 6: For Keeps COMPLETED 9.12 🚨The Chase 🎃 🏆 10.19

⚠️ The Good Girl (one shot) 🏆✨ 9.23

❤️‍🔥Until the Bed Breaks (one shot) 🏆 ✨ 9.16

❤️‍🔥He Knows Things (one shot) 🏆 9.6

❤️‍🔥Rough Ride (one shot ) 8.4

❤️‍🔥Strip for Me (one shot)🏆 6.12

❤️‍🔥Chokehold (one shot) 6.8

❤️‍🔥Hard at Work (one shot) 🏆

⚠️Under the Mistletoe NEW 12.18

⚠️ Silk & Silence TBA

⚠️ Drenched in Shadows TBA

🚨 Pretty Little Secret NEW 12.5

🚨 The Hunt (Austin Vampire 2) 11.19

❤️‍🔥The Red Dress 🏆 11.11

⚠️ Blood Bound (Austin Vampire ) 10.30.24

🚨 Teachers Pet 🏆✨5.4.24

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 🏆✨

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 2 🏆

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 3 🏆 5.12.24

🚨 Mr. Butlers Babysitter 4 COMPLETED 6.30

❤️‍🔥Eternal Ink 5.29.24

⚠️ The Belt 6.1.24

💝 Sweet as Pie 🎃 10.31

💝Major Gale Fantasy 1:He Racks You Down&Knocks You Up✨

💝Major Gale Fantasy 2 : Missing You Every Second

⚠️ Bucked & Fxcked 🏆✨

⚠️Bucked & Fxcked Part 2 One Last Buck 🏆

🚨Lake House Lessons

⚠️You Will Call Me Sir

💝Well I’ll Be Damned 6.1.24

••••••••••••✍🏼 Upcoming Fic List 📖 ••••••••••••

Special thanks to @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @lindszeppelin for helping me create a masterlist 💗

[ficarcheologist]

୧ ⊹₊ ⋆ cherish 💭 feyd rautha

WARNINGS ⁞ smut, 18+, profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, pregnancy, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, oral f receiving, face sitting, lactation kink, creampie, p in v sex

OPs NOTES ⁞ combined a request for pregnant!reader with feyd not wanting reader to leave the bed + feyd fluff 🩷

MY NOTES ⁞ This is not my work. If you are the owner of this work and would like it taken down, please provide proof of ownership and I will take it down/redirect where necessary! Link to the fic reblogged on one of my other side blogs.

Mornings with Feyd are a struggle for one reason and one reason alone. Your husband despises it when you leave your shared bed. And it’s gotten even worse since Dr. Suk confirmed your delicate condition. Your and Feyd’s tireless efforts at conceiving a child have finally borne fruit. You’re pregnant, only two months from delivery now, in fact. You feel his arm wrapped around you, his hand caressing your growing belly. You smile at how protective he is of you and the little one, even in his sleep. And when you try to move out from under his arm, he lets out a low, annoyed hiss, almost like a cat that’s had its ball of yarn taken away from it.

“Stay.”

His words are a low rasp, one that has you smiling to yourself as you struggle to sit up, “It’s time for breakfast, my love.”

You bite back the moan building in your throat as he moves his hand lower, to the apex between your thighs, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “But I have such a sweet little treat right here…”

You turn to face him, giving him a light swat against his bare chest. Not for the first time, you’re blown away by just how handsome your husband is, your heartbeat quickening at the sight of his angular face, those intense eyes peering at you, half-lidded with sleep. You lean in to press a kiss against his temple, moving your lips to brush against his jaw next.

“Good morning, my husband,” you breathe against his lips, feeling him smile against you.

You watch as Feyd sits up, his hand moving to your stomach, caressing it as he smiles gently, an expression that he reserves only for you, “How do you feel this morning?”

“Sleepy,” you admit, “My back was sore last night. It took me a while to fall asleep.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” Feyd frowns, his hand moving to rest against your lower back, the gesture making your heart warm, “I could’ve stayed awake with you.”

“You were sleeping so peacefully…”

Feyd presses a finger to your lips, silencing you with a stern look, “Next time you experience even the slightest discomfort, I want you to wake me, little one.”

You roll your eyes, taking his hand in your own and pressing a kiss to his fingertip, smiling mischievously, “As you wish, my Lord Feyd.”

The serious expression on his face melts into something far more tender, a soft smile gracing his features as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. Feyd lifts the fabric of your nightgown, pressing a kiss to your stomach next, whispering to the life growing inside of you.

“Good morning, little Leto.”

You beam at Feyd, pleased that he’s agreed to name your son after your beloved father. He chuckles as you pull him into another kiss, your lips moving desperately against his as he pulls you into his lap. It hasn’t escaped Feyd’s notice how much you seem to long for him in this vulnerable state, whether it be his protection, his affection, or the pleasure he’s content to give to you any morning, noon, or night. At this moment, it seems you’re interested in the latter, judging by how eagerly you’re palming at him over the fabric of his sleeping pants. Feyd shakes his head, grinning at you.

“Eager, wanton little baroness.”

“Cruel, selfish baron,” you pout, “Your wife requires your touch. Your care. She carries your son inside her womb and even now you seek to deny her?”

Feyd shakes his head, laying back and gazing up at you as you straddle his waist. You pull your nightgown over your head, baring your body to him. Your breasts are fuller than they were a few months ago, the sight of which has Feyd’s mouth watering. The sight of your swollen belly and the realization that it’s his child that grows inside of you has his cock growing painfully hard as you rub yourself against him. He moves his hands to caress your hips, moving down to your ass, giving you a playful slap as you ease yourself onto his cock. He lets out a low groan, rolling his hips against yours as you bounce up and down on him.

“You look so beautiful,” Feyd mumbles, his voice hazy with lust as he stares up at you, “Like a goddess. You ought to let me have a shrine built to you.”

“Only if you have one built for yourself beside me,” you murmur, brushing your lips against his with a smile, your hands resting on his chest, feeling each breath, the way each muscle moves, “My sweet, handsome husband. My lord.”

Feyd sits up on his elbows, taking one of your breasts in his mouth, suckling eagerly, letting your milk flow onto his tongue, the sweet taste making him eager for more. His lips are greedy, teeth nipping at your sensitive flesh as you continue bouncing up and down on his cock, feeling him hit the spot inside you that your fingers can never quite reach. When the flow from your right breast stops, he moves to your left, his palm moving up to squeeze and soothe you.

You reach your peak as he mouths at your breast, his hand holding your hips in place as he continues to take his fill, rutting up against you over and over and over until he spills himself inside you, watching his spend leak from your swollen cunt. But, he doesn’t seem to want this lazy morning together to be over.

“Sit on my face, little one,” Feyd rasps, pulling you in gently by the hips, “Let me taste you.”

You move up to do as he asks, rubbing your pearl against his nose as he laps at you eagerly, hands grasping at your thighs as you ride his face, the mixture of your arousal and his tasting tart yet not unpleasant on his tongue. Feyd thinks he could die a happy man like this, feasting on your sweet cunt, but he knows you would slap his chest and scold him if he ever said such a thing. That you’d threaten him if he ever even thought of dying before you. Perhaps the two of you will die together, he muses as you squeal his name, your thighs tremble as your fingers move against your swollen bud. Your bodies buried together on Giedi Prime, laid to rest in each other’s arms for all eternity. It’s macabre, but Feyd can’t think of anything more romantic.

After you reach your peak, Feyd is surprised when you move off of him, cuddling up against his side, pressing featherlight kisses along his jaw. You trace the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, down his chin to his neck, just smiling at him serenely. His breath catches in his throat at the tenderness in your touch, the genuine love in your eyes as you continue pressing kisses to his neck. His hand moves to your cheek, cupping it gently, his voice barely above a whisper as he speaks.

“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you.”

You beam at him, radiant as ever, glowing as a woman in love does, “Oh, Feyd… It’s me who doesn’t deserve you. Let’s stay in bed a little longer, like you wanted.”

His heart soars as he wraps you in his arms, cherishing this moment where it’s only the two of you.

[shrimp-child]

Now, I love the idea of Gotham having a tutelar/y deity - a village/town/city spirit, protector of the land - but did we have to popularise calling them Lady Gotham? Don't get me wrong, I love a woman in power, but 'lady' historically is a title bestowed to a woman who: is married to a lord, knight, baronet, Scottish feudal baron, or laird or is the daughter of a duke, marquess or earl. What I'm trying to say is that the spirit is at least a dame! Dames are the female title variant of knights, which people refer to Batman as commonly (the Dark Knight), and it would make sense for her to be of equal standing, if not higher, than the Bats helping stomp down the crime in her city. If we go by the British titles (which she probably would be British, given that Gotham City was made by British settlers), she could be (ascending order from 'dame') a baronetess, baroness, bishop, viscountess, countess, marchioness, duchess, archbishop or even a princess or queen. Why do we settle for something so low for her? Anyway, this was all written out for me to say that I can see, in a fic, the citizens start calling her 'Lady Gotham', when in actuality her title is higher than that, so she's just like: "NO CLEAR SKY FOR YOU! SUFFER WITHOUT THE SUN!!" and now it's gone on too long for her to stop giving them dark skies because they'll think it's the legitimate end of the world in True Gothamite™ style.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that take place in a small town, rural area as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🏡 I'll Fly Away by @juliusschmidt

(E, 122k, childhood friends) Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not

🏡 Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 113k, lighthouse) As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

🏡 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule / @baroness-elsa

(T, 93k, magical realism) Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

🏡 Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds

(NR, 88k, historical) 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

🏡 ocean tides you home (series) by @justanothershadeofblue

(M, 88k, Eroda) Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

🏡 Into the Weeds by kair0sclerosis

(M, 87k, secrets) Following the whispered words of a stranger, Harry Styles finds himself in the small town of Peri Ridge. It’s a town nestled within overgrown forests, raging rivers, and ominous mountains- full of unkept secrets, the aura of freedom, and lost people seeking to be found.

🏡 (Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

(E, 86k, Northern Exposure au) Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

🏡 Full Moon Dreaming by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 43k, soulmates) Louis has given up hope of dreaming of a person, resigned to living a life devoid of that kind of all-consuming love for another and receiving the same in return. But when a new neighbour descends on Louis’ beloved Hanson Bay and moves into the other beach house, could all that be about to change?

🏡 The Things We Know To Be Wild by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus

(M, 39k, HTTYD au) Louis is a London zoologist sent by the University of Highlands and Islands to assess the safety of the island of Eroda as part of the Wonder Seekers Project for sustainable tourism.

🏡 Something About Liminal Spaces by @kingsofeverything

(E, 34k, age difference) Searching for inspiration for his latest book, and hoping distance will help heal his broken heart, Louis Tomlinson heads to the village of Piha on the west coast of New Zealand’s north island.

🏡 It's the Climb by @lululawrence

(NR, 25k, Hannah Montana au) Louis is a world famous punk rock singer with a stage name of William and Jay drags him back to Tennessee for the summer.

🏡 It's Coming on Christmas by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(G, 23k, girl direction) When Harry Styles gets a call from the caretaker of a bakery in a small town in Vermont, she jumps at the chance to get out of Boston and run her own shop.

🏡 Naked & Proud by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

(E, 18k, songwriter Louis) In which Harry runs an organic store, not a nudist colony, and Louis doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

🏡 Between the forest and the field by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 16k, meet cute) the one where Harry recently moved to a village and his shy dog picks Louis' dogs to play with at the dog park. A fluffy cottage core AU.

🏡 Won’t Let You Down by noellehenry / @noellehenry-original

(M, 15k, inheritance) In a matter of weeks, Harry’s world turns upside down. Suddenly he’s the owner of a farm and B&B, gets involved in illegal trading of unlabeled bottles and has to deal with his everlasting crush on his sister Gemma’s best friend, who has returned to Woodville…

🏡 You Tilted My Hand by @taggiecb

(G, 12k, photographer Harry) Harry Styles arrives in Avonlea, Prince Edward Island for his first day of a coveted and prestigious summer internship at the Avonlea Chronicle. He's quick to realise that he's out of place in the little band of journalists as he's an art major and they didn't choose Harry to be part of the team!

🏡 Babe, There's Something Lonesome About You by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey

(M, 8k, witch Louis) Louis is a hedge witch, who lives a lonely, solitary life. He's quite happy with his shop in Door County, selling New Age magics to the tourists. 

🏡 Warm Chilling by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow

(G, 7k, neighbors) Louis moves into a cosy cottage in the English countryside with his dog Clifford to look after his great-aunt's animals.

- Rare Pairs -

🏡 Grundy County Incidents (series) by @haztobegood

(T, 10k, Harry/Louis/Nick Grimshaw & Zayn/Liam & Niall/Greg James) 25 years, 7 friends, 3 relationships, 1 rural county

🏡 Something Good (And I Don't Just Mean Your Chips) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(T, 9k, Harry/Nick Grimshaw) Nick's uncle's will left his seaside cottage, his fishing boat, and all the contents of both to Nick. Coming off the back of months of very poor life choices, a brand new start in a Yorkshire seaside village seems the last remaining option for Nick

[nahoney22]

Congrats on the 4500 followers, Honey 🥳

Can I request a Fives x Fem!Reader fic with fluff prompts #7 and #22? With a, they're in an established relationship, but they're not living together yet, kind of vibe?

Please and thank you 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Just for Tonight 🌊

🫧 Pairings: Fives X Female!Reader

word count: 827 words

prompts:

• “You don't have to leave just yet ... you could stay the night if you wanted to?”

• “You’re comfy.”

When Fives comes to visit, the two of you imagine what life after the war would be like together.

warnings: Safe for Work, Fluff, Established Relationship, Cuddling, Kisses, Female Reader, Discussions about life after the war, talks of the future. Very light angst if you squint.

Authors note: sorry for the wait @the-bad-batch-baroness, enjoy 🩵

Tonight, the usual quiet of your apartment was interrupted by the sizzling sounds and savory smells wafting from your tiny kitchen.

You leaned against the doorway, watching in quiet amusement as Fives, your better half of the last year, moved about with surprising ease in the unfamiliar space of your kitchen. He glanced over his shoulder with a playful smirk. “Stop staring, you’re making me nervous.”

You giggle, crossing your arms. “You know, I didn’t expect you to surprise me by cooking?”

“I figured I’d show off my skills. You deserve a break from takeout.” He teased, flipping something in the pan with a bit more flair than necessary.

The meal was simple, nothing too fancy which was just how you liked it. But the effort he put into it, the way he made himself at home in your space, made your heart swell. As he finishes up, you set the table and pretend not to notice how he stole glances at you every now and then.

Once the food was ready, he set down two plates and pulled out a chair for you with an exaggerated bow. “Dinner is served, milady,” he said with a wink, his charm in full force.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you sat down. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Fives.”

“I wanted to,” he replied, sitting across from you. “I don’t get to see you nearly as much as I’d like. Figured I’d make tonight special.”

The meal was delicious. You never realised he had the skill for it and you wouldn’t mind him coming over and cooking for you again. Conversation flowed easily as always, from light banter to deeper musings about what life might look like after the war. And as the evening stretched on, the familiar ache of knowing he’d have to leave soon crept into your thoughts.

When the plates were cleared and the kitchen tidied, the two of you found yourselves on the couch, with Fives stretched out beside you, his head resting lazily in your lap. You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair, savouring the rare moment of peace. He sighed contentedly, eyes half-lidded with the kind of serenity that seemed so rare in his life these days. “You look like you’re going to fall to sleep any second,” you hum.

“You’re comfy,” he mumbled with a sleepy grin, his voice rough from fatigue but tinged with a warmth.

You couldn’t help but smile. Moments like these were often stolen from the chaos of the Clone war. And so, they were more precious to you than anything. You glance at the clock on your wall, seeing the minutes that follow into hours tick by. Your chest tightened knowing he will soon have to leave and it seemed he knew it too as he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You don’t have to leave just yet,” you offer softly, “You could stay the night if you wanted to.”

Fives’ eyes search yours as if weighing the suggestion carefully. The war had taught him to stay alert, to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice, but in your apartment, he could let his guard down—if only for a little while. “You sure?” he asked, though there was a hint of something playful in his tone, like he was testing how much you really wanted him there.

“Of course I’m sure,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “Besides, it’s nice having you here.”

He shifted slightly, moving so that he was propped up on one elbow, his free hand tracing small circles on your knee. “You know, when all this is over,” he said, his voice dropping to something more serious, more vulnerable, “we won’t have to sneak around like this anymore. We’ll get our own place—somewhere quiet. Just us.”

The promise hung in the air between you, a fragile hope for a future that was anything but certain. But the way he said it, with so much conviction, made you want to believe in it, too. You could picture it: a small home, somewhere far from here, where you wouldn’t have to keep your time together a secret, where he wouldn’t have to leave before dawn broke.

“I’d like that.”

Fives’ gaze softened as he leaned in closer, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead and then to your lips. “It’s a promise,” he murmured, sealing it.

You lay down, Fives coming to spoon behind you, both of you too stuffed and tired to move to the bed. After all, you just wanted to savour the warmth and comfort he brought with him. “Stay,” you said again, this time with more confidence as you locked your hands over his that rested on your stomach. “Just for tonight.”

“Alright,” he agreed, pulling you closer, the tension melting from his body. “For tonight.”

Hopefully, this ‘just for tonight’ will turn into an everyday reality. One day.

🌊 Masterlist is Pinned 🌊

Tags: @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 1 @temple-elder r @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 7 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani

[thebibliosphere]

Pennyworth: The Daring Young Man.

Chapter One: Alfred knew from the first ring of the phone that something was wrong. He stumbled on suddenly unsteady feet; the world reeling sideways as a strange sense of déjà vu washed over him. It was the same sickening lurch he’d felt on the night Martha and Thomas died: a feeling like the proverbial rug had been pulled out from under his feet as the building blocks of the universe tumbled down around him. He’d had a few moments like that before, little flashes of premonition that made him wonder if Baroness Ortsey, that mad old witch in her cell under London, had done more than drug his tea one time. But none of those brief flashes could compare to what he’d felt that night: the debilitating swell of sickness that had opened up the pit of his stomach, accompanied by the harrowing, agonizing certainty that something had gone irrevocably wrong. The same feeling he had now. Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. And the phone just kept on ringing. [Keep reading on Ao3]

Soooo, this started out life as a short fic request after someone expressed interest in my Pennyworth!Alfred (from this fic) meeting a young Dick Grayson and then promptly spiraled out of control into a multi-chapter fic as part of the Pennyworth series I've been playing around with because I am certifiably Unwell about this show, lmao.

Anyway, I've gotten most of it written, and I will try to post a chapter a week as a form of Enrichment in my Enclosure and to hopefully get over my writing/posting block, but no promises. Migraines and all that. Also, if you're the person who requested this, I am sorry, I can't find your message, but I hope you enjoy it <3

[vanishedinvain]

𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒'𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈 𝐃𝐈𝐄

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥-𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader (but she doesn't show up yet, sorry lol)

summary: benedict's last moment of contentment before the storm that marooned his dreams.

warnings: very very brief mention of a gun, baby's first fic (it's me, i'm baby)

wc: 1.6k

next chapter // series masterlist

The Wiminet Art House sits just outside the limits of Mayfair, owned by the Dowager Baroness Lyra Wiminet. It is only half the size of a wing at Somerset House, and most of the artists are either anonymous or so unknown, they are as good as anonymous. It crams in an overwhelming number of pieces, barely a centimeter between each frame. It features a myriad of styles: soft landscapes, portraits, absurd finger-paintings, violent war scenes. 

When it first opened, every London newspaper dismissed it as the eccentricity of a widow, mad without a man to guide her. There was no cohesion, they said. Downright tasteless. Where was the class? The refinement? It was a laughingstock for all of two days before the ton moved on as they always did.

It was also Benedict Bridgerton’s most frequented gallery. And Eloise had no idea why.

“You have been here at least twenty times in the past year, and they have only changed a single painting,” Eloise pointed out on one of these trips. Though she did not prefer to visit the same blasted gallery with the same blasted paintings, it was more merciful than watching Daphne and their mother flit about the house searching for the perfect dress to secure a proposal from the Prussian prince.

Plus her brother promised to buy her an apricot ice afterwards.

“What could possibly be left to see?” she asked.

They were standing in front of a rather large seascape, one that spanned a quarter of the wall. Benedict turned away to look at Eloise, a grimace upon her face as she tried to see what her brother saw. It was a quality Benedict most appreciated in her; she was stubborn and quick to snark, but she never wrote off his interests as frivolous. She was attempting to understand, even if she was staring at the painting like it personally offended her.  

“Do you remember when you were eleven and Colin brought home that mystery novel for all of us? The one where an opera singer was killed in the middle of a show.”

“An Aria Most Deadly,” she recalled, smiling, “I couldn’t put it down. Col was scolded for bringing home such a—how did Mama word it?—terribly gruesome and improper book.”

He chuckled, remembering their mother’s scandalized face. As Colin was being scolded, she had set the book down on the settee. Eloise, ever nimble, snatched it and ran up to her room with nary a scuff across the floor.

“You re-read it over and over, looking for the clues, even after you’d finished it days prior. A snide comment from the stagehand that was once humorous turned dark. The author’s insistence on describing the location of the candelabra suddenly became obvious.”

“The details were so much clearer in hindsight,” she remarked.

“That is usually the privilege of hindsight.” He gestured back to the painting in front of them. “What do you see?”

She stared for a moment, tilting her head to one side to see if a change in angle would help. It was a turbulent scene, violent even, with outbursts of red and orange screaming amongst the cerulean and imposing slate clouds as the ship went down.

“A shipwreck?” Eloise answered with a shrug. “An unfortunately timed storm?”

Benedict stepped back, and grabbed Eloise by the shoulders, shifting her to the right so that she could stand in his place. “Do you see that spot of red on the ship?”

She squinted slightly. “Clearly, a fire broke out on the ship. Likely from the gunpowder catching on the wood. I mean, it says it in the title, Ship on Fire in Water,” she said, reading off the plaque underneath.

“But look closer at this spot of red at the front of the ship. Or that one by the captain’s quarters. Compare it to how the artist paints the flames,” Benedict insisted, gesturing to each area of interest. “He or she blends out the flames with orange and a bit of yellow usually. But these particular spots aren’t. They’re blended with brown. Maybe even a bit of black. That’s not fire, is it?”

Her eyebrows raised as the realization dawned on her. “It’s blood! Someone was killed. The captain, maybe?” She turned back to look at him in unbridled excitement at the newly-uncovered narrative.

Benedict smiled widely, crinkles forming around his eyes, watching his little sister finally get it, get him. “Possibly.”

“What do you think was the motive? Was it a mutiny?”

He shrugged. “That I am unsure of, dear sister. Every time I come back, I see something new. So, perhaps we need to look at it longer. Or make our rounds and come back with fresh eyes.”

Eloise had bounded off before he even finished.

They spent another two hours in the gallery, making little comments on each one, attempting to decipher a story from it. They even requested a step-ladder for the ones that had been skied because Benedict, having met Lady Wiminet, knew that there was no rhyme or reason as to the placement of each painting.

There was a most brilliant park scene about half a meter down from the ceiling. The artist did not draw a realistic, soft sunset, but a heightened one with punchy plums and a bright tangerine shade to blend. It was a bold choice that Benedict would’ve never thought of. The scene itself was of a promenade, much to Eloise’s displeasure, but she found amusement in mapping out the interpersonal relationships of the swans in the lake.

They made their way back to the bloodied, fiery ship shipwreck, standing in amicable silence before Eloise spoke.

“I understand it now. Why you've been here twenty times. Why you sketch until your fingers shake at dinner, but then use your drawings as fire kindle at night. You’re chasing greatness.”

“I want to get one of mine on these walls one day, El,” he said quietly, as if they weren’t the only people in the room. It was the first time he had admitted that ambition out loud.

“You will,” she replied, equally quiet back.

He sighed in relief. He wasn’t worried about Eloise’s reaction, though her vote of confidence was cherished. He was worried about being so unworthy that the words would refuse to roll off his tongue, lodging in his throat as a croak. But the idea was out there now, and a mirthful giddiness sprouted forth in the soil where his insecurities were rooted.

“I’d be anonymous, though,” he added after a pause.

She frowned, but neither of them made further comments on the subject. He already understood what she didn't verbalize. She dreaded living and dying in anonymity without a university degree or prolific novel attached to her name, something to outlast her that wasn’t a dullard husband or terrifying child. She could not stand the thought that the world might feel zero impact from her existence. 

Benedict, however, was far less eager to sign his name on a canvas. He could be displayed in any gallery in England if he simply asked, regardless of whether he was even good enough. Who would dare criticize a Bridgerton painting, with nine generations of viscounts breathing down their necks? If he were to ever put his name on any of his work, he wanted—needed—to be so good that everyone would be too awestruck by what was in front of them to check whose name was etched onto the little copper plaque beneath the frame.

This was one of the only points of incongruence between the second eldest Bridgerton brother and sister that couldn’t be remedied by a simple anecdote or shift to the right. Though, perhaps there was no need for one; a painter would never ask a writer to adjust her palette and a writer would never tell a painter his meter was off-tempo.

It was an afternoon well spent away from the ornery obligations of the social season, coming home with their appetites spoiled from the promised apricot ices. Benedict grabbed An Aria Most Deadly from the library, and read the first few chapters before retiring for the night. He’d finished the novel after he pried it away from Eloise years ago, so he knew it was the conductor who had killed the opera singer. This knowledge only pulled the deftly placed clues into crisp focus upon this second reading; even the first chapter was littered with hints.

Perhaps that is why when he sits in the viscount’s study, the one that was never supposed to go to him, he often thinks about the night of Granville’s party. That night began with him feeling so alive, more alive than he could ever fathom. Yet, it ended with a sinking stone of dread taking up a months-long residence in the pit of his stomach.

Were there clues he should’ve seen?

If he’d been less drunk off the wine or the women or both, he’d have noticed Daphne wasn’t wearing the necklace gifted to her by the prince, even though he clocked the ostentatious clunk of jewelry when she left for the Trowbridge Ball. Or that the hem of her dress was muddy and her face was pinched, on the verge of tears.

If he wasn’t so preoccupied with how to take advantage of his freedoms as the spare of the family, he’d have noticed the blooming violet bruises on Anthony’s knuckles as he yanked Benedict into the study with considerable force.

It wasn’t until he was rolling his shoulder, about to complain that his arm could've been popped out of its socket, when the gun box was placed on the desk with a resounding thud. 

Things only clicked into place as Anthony began frantically talking about estates and dowries and an appointment with the duke at dawn, but there were signs from the moment he walked in the door.

The details were always so much clearer in hindsight.

next chapter // series masterlist

a/n: they dropped new abc pictures last month, and i decided to make it everyone else's problem by starting this fic. now it’s bridgerton eve!!! rejoice!!!

[ooihcnoiwlerh]

New chapter is up, my Darlings!

Full link to AO3 fic here

18+ only/minors DNI. Tags and CW for this chapter: mentions of matricide; implied/referenced CSA; implied/referenced sexual assault; implied/referenced incest; questionable consent involving the Bene Gesserit; pregnancy; misogyny; marital strife; vague murder plots; eventual smut; sub!Feyd; subspace; oral sex (F+M receiving) face-fucking/riding; collars; pronged collars; leashes; binding (Feyd has his hands tied behind his back for most of the sex scene)multiple orgasms; overstimulation vaginal sex; riding; dom!Reader

CHAPTER TWELVE: PLANS WITHIN PLANS

Idrisa’s waiting for you in the hallway a few meters away from the dead servant and even with her head lowered in deference she catches your look of surprise.  

“I go where my lady goes,” she explains.

You exhale, closing your eyes for a moment.  You’d lined your eyelashes with black gloss earlier; you can feel the remnants of it drying on your cheeks.  “Then can you take me back to my quarters?” you ask.

Idrisa hesitates, glancing down the hallway towards the rooms where people still celebrate, before looking back at you.  “Are you sure, na-Baroness?” she asks, voice small.

“They won’t notice that I’m gone,” you tell her.  “And if they do, they won’t care.  I just need to get away.”  You shake and feel bile rising in your throat and gag, trying not to vomit as a pair of guards pull the dead servant’s body away.  He leaves behind a trail of blood as you keep your eyes on Idrisa and hold your breath, not wanting to breathe in the coppery smell of blood that lingers in the air.  

No one else seems affected by it, not even Idrisa, who ignores the sight before her and inclines her head while giving a curtsy.  “If that's what my lady desires,” she says.  

“It is,” you say quickly, glancing behind you at the double doors separating you from the Baron’s throne.  You can barely make out Feyd’s clipped, furious tone but not any words.  You don’t want to be here when he re-emerges.  You nod at Idrisa, jutting your chin out as if to say, Let’s go.

As your heels click along the dark marble she trails behind you like a pale shadow, her head downcast.

You feel sick.  You need a moment to decide what to do next.

Stay as far away from Feyd as possible, at least until you have answers.  But where to get them?  You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose as you realize you know exactly where.

Even if they aren’t friends of yours, you still have the Reverend Mother Mohiam and multiple Bene Gesserit sisters on Geidi Prime until tomorrow night.  They’ll have answers and insight.

Answers and insight they deliberately withheld from you .

They must have known, or at least the Reverend Mother probably did.  They’ve had their hands in everything, especially involving looking after their own, which just makes you wonder why they chose to help keep this buried.  Not why they chose to keep this buried from the other Great Houses; if Feyd’s really so important for their selective breeding program, it doesn’t surprise you that they would.  

You’d known that he kills people well before you ever met him.  Many men with his kind of power have killed.  But there’s no way they’d construe him killing a prisoner of war in an arena execution as being the same level of evil as killing his own mother.  They hid this from you, and you want…well, not even to know why they would, because you could answer that yourself, but to know why they’d let him be raised by a monster, why they care so much to preserve his life, no matter how painful it’s been.  Why they chose you for him.  

“The Bene Gesserit Sisters aren’t leaving until tomorrow evening,” you manage as you walk together, and you keep your voice from trembling.  “Can you speak to one of their consorts?  Request a private meeting for me with the Reverend Mother Mohiam before she goes?”

“Yes, na-Baroness,” Idrisa says. 

You don’t know what else to say as she leads you to your quarters and aids you out of your gown, into a chemise and robe.  Was it only half an hour ago that you thought Feyd would be either tearing you out of this gown or simply hitching your skirts up around your hips before fucking you hard and fast?  

“I’ll grab some wet cloth for your cosmetics, na-Baroness,” Idrisa says, and ducks into the bathroom.

You stand there, almost swaying in place, furious at everyone including yourself.  Even at the end of your patience with Idrisa, who gently applies a damp cloth below your eyes to where you’ve wept.

“It’s alright,” you say after a moment, closing a hand around her delicate wrist to nudge her away.  “I can handle that part myself.”

Idrisa drops her hand when you release her wrist but otherwise stays in place, kneading the cloth in her grip.  “My lady is distraught,” she says.  “Is there nothing I can do to comfort her?”

Does she know?  You can’t shake the question, can’t avoid it.  You look at Idrisa and think, she’ll squirm, but she won’t lie.  “Can you tell me about Feyd-Rautha’s mother?” you ask her.

You hadn’t realized it was possible for her to blanche, but she does.  “I am sorry, na-Baroness,” she says.  Your hands shake and you take a step back.  She continues hardly above a whisper.  “Like I said, it was before my time.  I remember hearing she’d died, but I don’t think anyone was surprised when she did.  Her name was,” she pauses, trying to find the right euphemism, “not popular here.”

Of course it wasn’t . 

Idrisa adds, giving you an almost apologetic look, “People called her Abulurd’s whore.  Apologies, na-Baroness,” she adds when you wince.  “I heard she was killed in a home burglary.”

“And is that all?”

Idrisa’s lips part a fraction.  After a moment’s hesitation she asks, “Does my lady suspect anyone in particular?”  Her eyes dart across your face.  

Do you? you almost ask.  “I did,” you tell her.  “It turned out to have been someone else.”

You let the silence speak for itself. Idrisa’s eyes widen before she looks down.  “I’m very sorry, na-Baroness,” she says.  

“So really, no one here has any idea,” you say, finding it almost impossible to believe and yet it makes a disturbing amount of sense. 

“We’d heard no details other than a burglary resulting in a stabbing and that was the end of it. Whatever happened, it happened on Lankiveil, “ Idrisa says.  “None of us witnessed it like…” she hesitates, unsure where to look as she can’t keep your gaze.

“You saw it?” It .  The thing that keeps going unspoken but hovers over your husband, your marriage, your children’s futures.

“Trust me, na-Baroness,” Idrisa says, “I didn’t want to.  None of us did.”

You finally look at each other.  You know Idrisa’s terrified of Feyd, and yet the compassion you see in her eyes is for him as well as you.  You hesitate, then open your mouth, about to ask her what he was like back then.

The door swings open and Feyd strides in, and all at once you remember how frightening he was when you first met him, how much he’d make you feel like prey.  How there’d been something that felt distinctly inhuman about him.

“You disrespected me in front of my uncle,” he says as he slams the door shut behind him.  “He won’t overlook that anytime soon.”   

Your vile uncle can go fuck himself , you don’t say.  You lift your chin and meet his gaze as you tamp down on your instinct to run.

His lips compress into a thin line before he continues.  “I don’t think you understand how fair I am with you.  If you’d been Rabban’s wife and this was his party, he’d be raping you in front of his men right now just for the fun of it.  He’d cut out your tongue for shouting at him, because it’s not as though you need one in order to give him sons.”

“Get out,” you tell him.  You sound more confident than you feel.

“No,” he says.  “If I speak, then you’ll listen.”

Idrisa swallows, glancing nervously at you and at him, looking like she wants to disappear and weighing her options on whether that would be more disrespectful than acknowledging Feyd, before giving a small curtsy and starting to step back.

If he hadn’t had to reach down for his boots you wouldn’t have caught him drawing a blade in time, because he doesn’t look away from you as he strides forward, about to slash the edge across Idrisa’s throat.  But he did, and you have a split second to react, and even if it’s not enough time to run forward and tackle him, you find your voice.

“ Stop! ”  It’s a less angry, more desperate scream from before, but it makes Feyd-Rautha pause, knife centimeters from Idrisa’s neck.

“Don’t you hurt her,” you tell him.  Your voice shakes as much as you do.  “She has nothing to do with this.”

He doesn’t turn his head, but his eyes slide towards her, then back to you, his expression as cold and detached as it was at the start of his arena fight.  Idrisa shuts her eyes.  A tear slides down her cheek.  

For a moment the three of you stand frozen in silence.  Do you take a step forward and try to disarm him, or will that provoke him?  Idrisa certainly can’t move; her fate lies in Feyd’s hands.  He’ll kill her for sure if she tries to evade or resist him.  Feyd, for his part, seems to weigh his options: remind you what he’s capable of and how there’s nothing you can do to stop it, or try not to upset you any further tonight.

Given the turn tonight’s taken, pure spite might motivate him most right now.

“Please,” you blurt out, too scared to take that kind of risk.

A brief flicker of surprise.  You can imagine the thoughts running through his mind.  Why do you beg for the safety of a mere slave?  She’s replaceable .  

“Say that again,” he says, as if he thinks you’d be too proud to beg for the life of the only friend you’ve made here.

“Please,” you say again, slower. “Please don’t kill or hurt Idrisa.  I’m the one you’re angry with”--a statement you’re not entirely sure is even true–“so please don’t take it out on her.”  After a moment you add, managing to keep the venom out of your voice, “husband.”  You try to breathe, fresh tears pooling in your eyes.  How, you wonder, do you try to reason with him?  Why do you try to appeal to his humanity when it’s been called into question that he possesses such a thing?

And yet you stand, silently begging, barefoot and hardly dressed, feeling as vulnerable and powerless as you did on your wedding night, but with another life hanging in the balance between you.

Feyd’s eyes go half-lidded, lip curling in contempt, but he lowers his blade.  For a moment you and you’re certain Idrisa wonders if he’s simply going to swing it back up and slash her across the throat.  The muscles in her face clench up.  He makes no such movement, simply takes a step back.

“ Out ,” he says.

Idrisa sags, letting out a loud sigh of relief that leads to a rattling gasp, tears now streaming down her face.  She lowers her head and scurries away, murmuring, “ Thank you, na-Baron.  Thank you, na-Baron .”  As she leaves she nods towards you.  “ Thank you, na-Baroness .”

She closes the door behind her.  You and your husband stare at one another.  Fear has done nothing to quell your anger.  It takes you a moment before you think you can talk without breaking down.  

“Did you really think I’d never find out?  That I wouldn’t eventually ask?” you finally manage.

“You’d seemed to’ve drawn your own conclusions,” Feyd says, stock-still with his hands at his sides, his grip on the knife looser.  He doesn’t come in any closer.

“You’re right, I did,” you say.  “I’d thought your uncle had her killed to make sure she couldn’t help you.”

“She didn’t help me when she was alive, either,” Feyd snaps, the implication clear, the lines of his face harsh.

How could you think she’d ever have let the Baron touch you? you want to ask.  No mother would ever sit idly by and watch their child go through that.

“She was one woman against Geidi Prime and Baron Harkonnen,” you tell him.  You can’t accept the fact that any sane mother would just allow their son to be raised by a man like the Baron, or that she didn’t know what kind of monster he was.  “There’s no way she just gave you away.”

“How do you know?” he asks, his tone not accusing, not yet.  He sounds almost amused, in a manner you find almost condescending.  It makes you want to clench your fists.  I didn’t think you were still so naive, wife, he seems to be saying.            

“Your father got out.  He defected .  She would’ve known why,” you say.

Feyd tilts his head slightly as he considers your words, looking at you as if you’re the one who’s unreasonable.  “Why did you think I was born in the first place?” he asks.  “Why do you think my mother, a Bene Gesserit witch, chose to get pregnant eighteen years after she had her first son and when she was nearly forty?  It wasn’t an accident. I’ve never heard of an accidental Bene Gesserit pregnancy, have you?”

You look away.  He gives you a moment to respond.  You can’t.

“They always have plans within plans,” Feyd says.  “Their children are never just their children, they’re tools to serve a greater purpose.”  

And they’re always Bene Gesserit first, not mothers or wives or anything else .

“Why do you think they sent one of their witches after a man who was estranged from his own House?  Why do you think he was of any value to them?”

You know what he’s asking.  You shut your eyes as you answer.   “Because his degenerate older brother wasn’t the match they wanted to continue the bloodline,” you say.

When you open your eyes, it’s to the sight of him giving you a grim smile.  “See?  You understand, even if you don’t want to.  Now, why do you think she waited until Rabban was about grown before trying for another son?”

“Feyd,” you start.

“Why?   And why do you think everyone waited until after my father was dead before I was taken in my sleep to Geidi Prime the night after my seventh birthday?”

You don’t realize you’re shaking your head.  Even if she had an agenda, she wouldn’t have just let it happen.  You can’t believe it.

Feyd’s eyes are like a shark’s.  It’s hard to look him in the eye.  “I was only ever a tool for her, for their kind.  They just cared about furthering the bloodline, not what it would cost me to live like I have.”  The thing he never talks about.  The thing he still won’t talk about.  You could scream.  Everyone knows, and everyone’s quietly agreed to acknowledge it.  You finally break, saying it before you’re realizing you’re saying it.

“Did you really kill her because of that or because you couldn’t kill him?” 

The question hangs there after the words spill out of you.  Your ears ring and your heart pounds as you force yourself to look at him. 

His nostrils flare.  His eyes look silver in the harsh light.  

“You killed her after you’d tried and failed to kill him first.”  You can see the rise and fall of Feyd’s chest, his look of warning.  “And I understand why you wanted to kill him.  Anyone would’ve, and should’ve.  He should never’ve been allowed anywhere near you.”

Feyd’s eyes glint.  He doesn’t speak, but he looks stricken, looks livid.  

You try to craft your next thought word by word, unsure where to tread lightly or go straight for the jugular.  “I know it must’ve seemed different at the time, but he was clearly trying to isolate you.  He was trying to make you hate your mother.”

“He didn’t have to try,” Feyd says.  “Did it all on my own, after enough time passed.”

“I…” you start, and stop.  Feyd waits for you to finish a sentence you cannot construct.

“You don’t know what it was like,” Feyd says.  “ You. Weren’t.  There. ”  He enunciates every last word, baring his black teeth in a snarl.

You flinch away.  When you can speak you say, “You’re right.  I wasn’t there.  I don’t know how it feels to go through what you went through.  And you refuse to tell me.”

Feyd’s lip curls.  Something flashes in his eyes.  “You’re saying you want all the details?” he asks.  “Did you want to know how the first time it happened was eight months after I was brought here and two months after I finally accepted that I’d never hear from my mother again?”

“I’m saying that this is more than a marriage; it’s a political alliance.  I’m saying that as your ally I have the right to know things that will impact me.  And as your wife, even knowing that I can’t change the past, it  was still so much worse having to hear it from the Baron than if I’d heard it from you.”  Your chest heaves.  You won’t cry again.  

And Feyd doesn’t respond.  

“You killed your mother.”

“Yes,” he says.  He sounds resigned.

“Do you ever regret it?” you ask.

“I briefly did, at first,” Feyd says.  “Mostly I don’t think about it at all.  Thinking about it won’t change the fact that she’s still dead.”

You look down; the silence hangs between the two of you and grows heavier.  You feel cold.  You wrap your arms around yourself.

“I won’t let you fuck me tonight,” you tell him.  “You’re not welcome in my bed, and I won’t come to yours.”

“Believe it or not, I’m not really in the mood anymore,” Feyd says.  He turns towards the door, pauses, and adds, “We’re expected to make an appearance tomorrow.  The festivities aren’t over yet.  Someone will send you another gown.”  

He leaves, and after he shuts the door behind him it feels like the air has gone out of the room.

Not to your surprise, you have trouble sleeping.  

For some, the party’s still going on, and will continue into the morning.  Feyd’s still going to train, you’re sure, and you don’t envy the poor sods expected to spar with him.  You imagine they’ll be bloated and sweaty, desperately hungover or perhaps still a bit drunk from their master’s festivities.  There will be more festivities tomorrow night, and the night after that, although muted by comparison.  You will be expected to be present for at least part of it at Feyd-Rautha’s side.  You think about how most visitors will be leaving after tonight’s festivities.  You think of the cold, detached way the Reverend Mother alluded to Feyd’s abuse.  You think of Margot Fenring and her coy, knowing smile.  The daughter growing in her womb and the bitter way Feyd talked about plans within plans.  

There’s a sick kind of acceptance in your gut that could almost be freeing.

There’s no one here who you can really trust .

You manage to fall asleep at what passes for the crack of dawn on Geidi Prime, even if through the window it’s all just different shades of sickly grey, only to wake up three hours later feeling not-particularly rested.

Your morning knock at the door reveals not only Idrisa but one of the Bene Gesserit nuns; lower-ranking, you suppose, who’s shrouded head to foot.

“Good morning, na-Baroness,” the young woman says, her voice sounding youthful enough to call the descriptor ‘ woman ’ into question.

“Good morning, Sister,” you say, a burbling cocktail of both hope and dread rising in your stomach.

“Would you like to join her Reverence for breakfast, na-Baroness?” she asks.

“I would, thank you.  When does she want me to join her?”

“In an hour, na-Baroness.  Your handmaiden will know where to take you,” the nun says as Idrisa sets your tray down on your end-table.  She seems so poised, as if she hadn’t nearly been murdered last night.

“I’m looking forward to speaking with her.  Thank you, Sister,” you say as you think that for such a meeting it would be most appropriate to wear something with a hood, perhaps something that covers part of your face.  Feels safer that way.  Perhaps the Bene Gesserit are onto something there.

When it's time, the room Idrisa leads you to isn’t within the guest wing, like you’d expected, but in a neighboring corridor you haven’t been in before.  You wonder, for a moment, if the Reverend Mother is more familiar with this vast Fortress than you are after an entire month of living here, and then a pair of Harkonnen guards open the door for you to step inside.

After a month of breakfasts with the Baron, the spread set out for the two of you is quite modest, even if it’s more food than the two of you combined could put away in one sitting.  There’s a plate of different breads and accompanying toppings, eggs, fruit, and pitchers of juice and distilled water set down in the space between the two of you.  There’s also a pot of tea with sides of lemon and honey.

“Thank you for meeting me, your Reverence,” you say as you sit down, and for a moment the two of you sit in silence.  A Harkonnen slave girl pours tea for each of you before leaving the room.  The Reverend Mother waits until the door’s closed to lift her veil and take a sip of tea.

“I'd heard it was urgent that I speak with you at my convenience,” she says once she’s set her cup down.  “It’s convenient for me now.  So by all means, speak.”

You take a breath, twisting your hands in your lap, thinking about how you’d rehearsed this conversation in your head all night and earlier this morning.

“I must confess I got some rather distressing news last night,” you tell her.  “Something that’s fundamentally changed the nature of my marriage, I’m afraid.”

“Oh?” she asks, tilting her head ever so slightly.  

“Did you know Feyd-Rautha’s mother, Emmi Rabban?” you ask.  Did you assure her all would be alright?  Did you pretend to comfort her when her child was abducted?  Did you care at all when her own son murdered her?

“I spoke to her a few times when she was alive, yes,” her Reverence says, and doesn’t elaborate.  Seconds tick by and she offers nothing else, eyes tracking every minute muscle in your face.  She seems content to let you torment yourself in the ensuing silence, and it works.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you finally ask.

The Reverend Mother pours herself some more tea. “I imagine it must’ve been the Baron who shared the news with you if you’re only just finding out,” she says.  “If his nephew hadn’t used that bit of family history to keep you in line, he must not have wanted you to hear about it at all.

“Of course,” she adds, “It was a little naive of you, young Y/N, to be so shocked when you knew everything else.”

“It’s not something he ever chose to share with me,” you tell her.  “I’d thought…I’d have expected matricide from his uncle or his brother, but not him, not even in the state he must’ve been in.”

“You’d thought better of him?” her Reverence asks and you flush.  The woman who’d assured you that he could be tempered, that he had a sense of honor, is acting like it’s your own fault for trusting your husband to be above the act of matricide.

“I mean… yes, ” you say, unable to keep the incredulity out of your tone.  “With everything I’ve learned about the Baron I’d just thought…I’d thought Feyd had tried to find asylum on Lankiveil after the assassination attempt and the torture that followed.  I’d thought he’d tried to defect from the Harkonnens.  I’d thought the Baron had been the one to have her killed so Feyd would have no one left to turn to.”

“The thought occurred to him, I’m certain,” her Reverence says.  “But that would’ve been too simple, wouldn’t have gotten his would-be heir to truly embrace his inner darkness. 

 “If he’d had her killed she would’ve been immortalized as an innocent in Feyd-Rautha’s eyes and he would’ve hated his uncle all the more.  But poisoning her image, fanning his separation into hatred, would ensure that he lost her well before she died.  The Baron has a talent for manipulation.”

“I realized that after I found out who really killed her,” you say in your defense.   “Then it made sense that the Baron convinced both of his nephews to each kill a parent.  I can see how he manipulated Rabban as well.”  From your limited interactions, Rabban seems more concerned with his uncle’s approval than his younger brother is.  

The Reverend Mother tilts her head in acknowledgement and gracefully spears a few berries onto her fork but doesn’t eat them.  “It took far less work.  Rabban was already a man by that point, young but too old for the Baron to break in his preferred ways and not as bright.  Good enough to work for his uncle, not promising enough to carry on his legacy or serve our plans.”

You and your fucking plans , you think.  “Is that why you let the Baron cover up Feyd’s matricide but not his brother’s patricide?” you ask.  “Because it doesn’t matter how negative Rabban’s reputation is outside of his own House but Feyd-Rautha,” you shrug, angry, vaguely aware of how petulant and emotional you must seem despite your earlier intentions of treading carefully, and finding you don’t care, “now, if he’s as important to your plans as you say, then he has to be as respectable as a Harkonnen can be in the eyes of the other Houses, the Empire.  He has to be someone close to redeemable, and there’s no redemption for someone who murdered their own mother.”

He killed their mother; his brother killed their father.  Oh, Great Mother, is Rabban going to be sent back here?  You don’t want to be anywhere near your brother-in-law, not when he’s going to be bitter and vindictive over losing his governorship.  He’s going to want to go after his little brother’s toys–and you’re certain that’s how he sees you.  

Please just keep him on Arrakis or send him to Lankiveil.  Fuck it, just send me back to my home planet.  It’s not like anyone needs me to be here right now.

“So you knew all this, and you chose not to prepare me for it,” you tell her.

“What good would it have done you?” her Reverence asks.  “You have no Bene Gesserit training, you haven’t learned to overcome your own fears and desires.  It would’ve clouded your judgment, plagued you with self-doubt that you could temper him and gain his devotion.  You wouldn’t have been any more prepared to bed him and gain favor with him with that information. Without it you’ve been more malleable, more open-minded to the strengths of your marriage.”

I didn’t tell you because you would’ve tried to resist the marriage if I had .  

You try not to think about the machinations of it–not that you’ve ever wanted to picture it, but the image of the Baron’s swollen fingers groping his nephew’s bare skin when Feyd’s a grown man is enough to make you want to throw up, let alone…you suppress your cry of disgust. 

“You knew all this , knew what the Baron would do to him, and still allowed it all to happen,” you say, voice rising in pitch before you can reign it in.

“He needed to ascend to a Major House,” she says.  “We’d have had no use for him as a whaler’s son.”

“But you did as someone driven to matricide?” you demand.  “What greater use do you even have for him beyond siring a boy?  What are you going to do to him when you’re done with him?  What are you going to do to me? ”  Before you can stop yourself, because the thought’s been lingering in a way you cannot ignore now no matter how much you’d like to, you add, “Whose child is Lady Fenring really carrying?”

“ Silence! ” her Reverence snaps and you feel your mouth shut tight, jaw muscles clenching of their own accord.  You’re shocked.  You feel so utterly stupid for feeling shocked.

She watches your face as you glare at her, your anger and fear so transparent it’s embarrassing.  You’d wanted to be poised.  You’d wanted to keep your fears if not abated then suppressed.  You wanted to be able to play a sharp mental game of cheops with a Truthsayer.  You just failed.

“I must say I’m disappointed in you,” her Reverence says.

I feel the same way, your Reverence, you don’t say even if you could; it’s like there’s a vice, like clamps keeping your jaw clenched.

“Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen is going to lead one of the Great Houses, and one of the wealthiest Houses in Landsraad.  If he needs to be brutal to ascend and take his uncle’s throne, then so be it.  It’s entirely expected among his people, and if anything you should be grateful he didn’t adopt his uncle’s tastes for himself.

“I never lied to you about your purpose with him, young Y/N,” she continues.  “It’s always been to combine your genetics with his, create a bloodline with him, and provide a son.”

For me and him or for you?   You take a deep breath.  In.  Out.

“I told you when we first met that you were under the protection of the Bene Gesserit order.  I didn’t lie to you about that, either.  You insult me by questioning my abilities and that I will not tolerate.  You are safer on this planet than anyone else who inhabits it.  You’re acting like a petulant child.”

You feel yourself flush, angry and ashamed of where you are right now.  You still can't’ speak, can’t even open your mouth, but you can feel your lips tremble and feel heat pricking up at the corners of your eyes.

“You have our protection and for all of your husband’s violent past and likely violent future, you have his protection as well, and for that you ought to be grateful.  He’s a vicious enemy and an even more vicious guard dog.

“As for Lady Fenring, it’s nothing personal.  Our Sisterhood needs daughters from every major House.  She and her husband will raise the girl, she’ll receive the best Bene Gesserit training of Landsraad, and neither of you will ever have to think about her.”

Did Feyd know her purpose in taking him inside of her?   Will her daughter grow up knowing who her biological father is?  

Did she use the Voice on him?

And suddenly you feel like the clamps have loosened.  You run a hand over your jaw as her Reverence asks, “Now that I’ve explained everything to you, do you think you can handle a quiet, civil breakfast or will you continue to question me?”

You want to curse.  You want to tell her that she’s full of shit.  Without the Voice’s influence you clench your jaw of your own volition to tamp down on everything you wish you could say.  “I have no further questions to ask, your Reverence,” you say.

“So will the na-Baroness behave in the manner expected of her title?” the Reverend Mother asks and in that moment you hate her.

“Of course, your Reverence,” you say.  “What sort of hostess would I be if I didn’t entertain my guests?”

Your head pounds and your hands shake as you get back to your quarters and find the gown for this afternoon laid out on your bed.  It’s not as provocative as yesterday’s, but you’re no more excited to put it on.  Idrisa silently helps you with the bodice and the new jewelry of fine silver corded necklaces that lay over your chest like a row of chains.  Idrisa assists with your hair; for someone who’s never touched real hair until recently, she’s gotten quite good at helping with it.  Doesn’t even seem confused or repulsed by it anymore.  Your cosmetics manage to cover up the shadows under your eyes.  Neither of you talk much, even though there’s a lot that needs to be said.

“I’m sorry, Idrisa,” you tell her as she puts away your cosmetics and you’re ready for her to escort you to the Banquet Hall.

She looks bewildered as she turns to you.  “Oh, no, my lady,” she says.  “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

I could’ve gotten you killed, you think, wondering what else she's been through that makes her so quick to try to forget last night when the two of you are flanked by two guards once you reach the main hallway.  She’s probably trying not to think about it when the doors to the Banquet Hall open and Feyd’s already there in long black robes with a silver chest plate, standing by the door awaiting your arrival.

The politics of marriage, you think to yourself, as the two of you match the body language you’d shared in front of everyone last night; no more and no less affectionate.  Even though a trained and watchful eye can see that the way he gives you a quick kiss on the lips and how you rest your hand on his arm is stiffer than yesterday, as is your posture.

You wish you could drink.  Instead you make polite little smiles at everyone who acknowledges you, as visitors stop by to show their respects, bid the na-Baron a happy belated birthday and to offer their congratulations on your nuptials.  The tables are laid out with platters full of imported delicacies and you pick at a few, but your breakfast sits like a brick in the pit of your stomach.  Feyd’s appetite is marginally better, and he nurses the same goblet of wine, twirling it absently more than he ends up drinking from it.  Finally he leans over and whispers in your ear, “I’m going to one of the private pleasure rooms and you’re going to join me.”

You raise your eyebrows, incredulous, as you look back at him.  He holds your  gaze, nothing in his flirtatious or suggestive.  He simply rises from his chair and holds out his arm.

You clench your jaw, remember all your etiquette training, and rise to take it.  Not everyone’s going to notice the two of you leaving together, let alone leaving together in the same direction, but those who do will interpret what comes next.

You know the Baron sees.  You can feel his smirk like a trail of slime. He's probably thinking, Good; my nephew’s breeding his brat-whore of a wife into submission .

Feyd leads you past two guards who wisely don’t react beyond lowering their heads in respect and down a hallway where there are opaque slots in the middle of each door.  Some are black, some are white.

“White means unoccupied,” he says, and presses a button to open one of the doors.

The room’s fairly sparse, you notice as the two of you step inside; there’s a bed, a nightstand, a chaise.  A small chest of drawers, the contents of which you don’t want to know.  All the anger from the previous night, from this morning, comes flooding back.  You want to slap him for this humiliation, for having the audacity to drag you in here.

The door closes behind you and the  two of you stand opposite each other, the bed a threatening presence at your side.  You speak first.

“I don’t want this,” you tell him.  

“I know,” he says.  He doesn’t come in any closer or make any effort to undress.  Instead he stays where he is and you cross your arms, waiting for him to speak again.

“You spoke with the Reverend Mother Mohiam this morning,” he adds.  It doesn’t surprise you that he’d know this; every guard in this Fortress reports to him.

“I did,” you say, your tone clipped.

“I imagine she told you everything,” he says.

You shrug, looking down, your arms folded across your chest.  “She said enough,” you respond after a moment.

“About my mother?”

“A little.  We spoke a little bit about multiple topics.”

“Such as?” Feyd prompts.

“Your uncle, your brother.  Lady Fenring.”  Feyd’s jaw tightens and his eyes narrow for a moment.  “You know Lady Fenring’s carrying your child, too?”

“The bastard in her womb belongs to me less than it does to her cuckhold husband,” Feyd says. 

“I’m not jealous,” you add.  

“There was nothing to be jealous of,” he says, the tone in his voice leaving an implication that has you furrowing your brow.  Do you mean what I think you mean? You open your mouth to ask, but he speaks first.  “So what else did you discuss?”

“What else did you discuss yesterday?  With the Baron?” you ask.

“Plans within plans,” Feyd says wryly.  Of course; plans within plans within plans .

“Such as?” you ask.

His mouth twitches upwards.  It's almost a smirk.  “I’d wondered why after centuries of tension it was only now that we took down the House of Atreides.  I’d thought it was in retaliation to them being gifted Arrakis.”

“Was it not?” you ask.  “Even if it was the Emperor who handed Arrakis over to them in the first place?”

Feyd’s eyes glint.  One of the corners of his mouth twitches upwards again.  “Why do you think he handed Arrakis over to them, then?” he asks.

That…you shake your head.  The Houses Corrino and Atreides were allies.  The Emperor and the Duke were friends.  “I don’t understand.”

“Sure you do,” Feyd says.  “The other Houses can find us as brutal and unforgiving as they want, but the Emperor was the one who gave us the orders, lent us his soldiers, and had us wipe out the House of Atreides in the dark.”

Impossible.  “ Why?” you ask, voice higher than intended.  

Feyd sighs.  “Uncle withheld that bit of information from me, if he knows at all.”  

You try to think.  How far does this go?  Who else knows and what are they hiding?  What did they have to gain from massacring an entire Major House?

“And what do you suspect?” you ask.

He considers something, and his response throws you off.  “The Atreides boy–the Dukeling.  Did you know him?”

What does he have to do with anything?  He was years off from inheriting Caladan.

“You mean Paul?  Not well, but he and I spoke a couple of times over the years.  He’d be turning twenty-one around now,” you tell him. The interactions were brief, polite, and uneventful, a potential match between the two of you always unlikely.  The Duke had clearly been hoping for one of the princesses’ hands in marriage for his son and your father had been hoping for someone a bit more intimidating than the skinny, affable Duke’s son.   ( Of course, he did end up getting what he’d been hoping for, much to his chagrin .)  “Why?”

“The Duke’s Bene Gesserit whore was meant to bear a daughter,” he says.  “That daughter would’ve been my wife; it had all been planned out.  She refused the order and gave the Duke a son instead.  Screwed up all their plans.”

The Reverend Mother told you about their years of planning, selective breeding.  How plans had recently changed and the new plans involved feeding you to the heir to the Harkonnen throne.  

Your brow furrows as you ask, “Did the Baron tell you this?”

“I've known since before I met him.  I remember hearing my parents arguing about it around my fifth birthday, when the Dukeling was born,” Feyd says.  “Thousands of years of planning out the window.  From what I could gather, they decided they could choose either the Atreides boy or myself to continue the bloodline they want.”

You think back to this morning.  You think of Margot and her growing number of daughters who aren’t her husband’s.  You remember what Paul Atreides’s face looked like when he was nineteen and making polite small-talk with you about the similarities between Y/P and Caladan and for a moment you imagine what he’d have looked like as a girl.

“I’m not certain exactly how or why,” Feyd continues, “but I wouldn’t be surprised if those witches impacted the Emperor’s decision. It’s almost funny how often they’re spotted lurking in the shadows when powerful men fall.”

“If they had something to do with it, do you know why they chose your House?” you ask.

Feyd shakes his head.  “Not yet,” he says.  “But I know this: Uncle wants a Harkonnen on the Imperial throne.  He’s wanted it his entire life, more than anything else.  And he thinks we’re closer to it than ever before.  He might even be right.”

You collect yourself, try to think, and when you do you can’t help but be selfish.  You flex and clench the fist of your right hand to avoid bringing it to your belly.  “Did he say where I fit within these plans within plans?” you ask.

Feyd doesn’t look away, but he also doesn’t speak for a moment.  He seems to look at every curve, angle, and slope of your features as if trying to commit the sight to memory.  “Your place is by my side, Y/N Harkonnen,” he says.  “As my wife, as the mother of my children, as the bridge between Harko and the rest of Landsraad.”

All very nice words.  Not a real answer.  “I notice you didn’t say if those were your uncle’s plans or not,” you tell him.  

“I know you did,” he says.  “What he thinks about you doesn’t matter.”

You take a step back, unable to help the incredulity within you.

“How does it not matter?” you ask.  “After everything he’s done, after everything he’s done to you, you still do whatever he wants.  If he decides that I don’t fit within his plans, then how can I believe you’ll keep me safe?  After everything you’ve done?”

Feyd recoils and he looks like he’s never been more insulted in his life, and he does not deserve to give you the reproachful look he’s giving you now.  “You think I’d go back on my vows?” he asks.

“You mean them now, but what about after he’s born? What about after I give you more children?  As I get older and I start reminding you more of your mother?” you demand.

“You don’t remind me one bit of her and that’s not going to change,” he says.

“But how do you know that?” you ask.

He doesn’t try to touch you, but takes a half-step forward.  “Because when you talk about our son you don’t talk about the greater plans for him.  You talk about him like he’s our child, not any part of an agenda.  You talk about nurseries, not who you’ll breed our son with. Because you don’t.”  He pauses.  “Because you aren’t one of them.  You belong to me, not them.”

You look at him as your heart pounds.  You shouldn’t be so naive to believe him, but you’re certain he means it.  The next thought that comes to you is one you can’t shake away.  It’s a risk; walls have ears.  But it’s a question you’ve been wanting to ask for weeks, and one you can’t avoid anymore.

“I read up on Harkonnen wedding vows,” you say.  “You made a vow to protect me, keep me safe.”

“I did,” he says.  “I will.”

“And our children?” you ask.  Feyd’s spine goes rigid.  “Will you keep them safe?”

He knows what you’re asking; he says nothing.

“Will you keep him away from our son?” you ask.  “No matter what?”

He looks at you, his jaw clenching for a moment as he looks down, lashes fluttering.  You wait.  

Finally he speaks. “When I ascend, my coronation needs to be honest.  The rank needs to be earned or I’ll never truly have the respect of my people, let alone the other Houses.”  Not quite an answer to the question you asked, but to what you really mean.  You take a breath, nervous.  “But my priority will always be the future of the Harkonnens, not what will soon be past,” he adds.  “That’s you and that’s our children.”

Yesterday showed you that Feyd isn’t always forthright, but he doesn’t lie when you ask him a direct question.  It’s something, a step in the right direction, and certainly a better one than last night.  

“Alright then,” you say on an exhale.

“Alright then,” Feyd echoes.

“Shall we?” you ask, gesturing for the door.

Feyd looks at you and his eyes flicker to your neatly-arranged hair.  “Not yet,” he says, and closes the distance between the two of you and tugs a few strands askew before burying his hands in your scalp, scrunching with his hands, and then releasing.  He shifts the silver strand adorning your hair just a little askew.

“What are you–?” you start, and he moves his hands down to pinch your cheeks.  You squawk and slap his hands away.

He gives a small smirk.  “Trust me, Y/N,” he says, “you’ll want them to think we were fucking instead of talking.”

And so you keep your head held high as you leave the room and re-enter the Banquet Hall, primly ignoring the few pointed looks you get.  They don’t linger, anyway; no one wants to get their throats slashed by the na-Baron for gawking at his, as far as they know, freshly-fucked wife.

The festivities continue, albeit a little muted compared to last night, and without further incident.  When it seems like an appropriate time to take your leave, you take a few minutes to thank everyone for sharing in your company.  Even, begrudgingly, the Baron, who gives your mussed hair a pointed look and a snide comment about how you must need some rest.

You don’t go into Feyd’s bedroom.  As the hours tick by, you realize he won’t be coming into yours, either.

You’re hit with twin feelings of relief and doubt.  You know you’re going to have to share a bed with him again; everyone has made it abundantly clear that it’s a part of your obligations as a married woman.  He’s going to Arrakis soon; you don’t want him to leave with memories of a newly frigid wife. You don’t want to lose any more of the momentum you’d been building with him that you’d created in no small part through near-constant intimacy.

And still, you stay alone in your bed, not even wanting to touch yourself.

The following morning you could almost swear that things are normal again, or as normal as they were before the Bene Gesserit arrived.

Feyd calls on you to train with him early in the morning again.  He double-checks to make sure your shield’s activated before having you practice with Korvo, and then with him.  

Breakfast is a bit different, though.  The remaining distinguished guests join all of you and the spread is even more vast than usual with dishes both savory and sweet.  You’d noticed over the course of the past month that Feyd almost always eats the same thing for breakfast: eggs and a savory porridge cooked in bone broth.  This morning, however, he doesn’t have much of an appetite, perhaps because of the couple seated across from him.

Among the last remaining guests are Count Hasimir and Lady Margot Fenring, the husband looking a little like a rat in fine robes with a velvet brocade, his beautiful younger wife in a fetching blue dress that’s formal enough for the occasion but looks comfortable enough for her trip back home.  

“Her Reverence has departed early, along with the other Sisters,” Margot explains to you.  “But she appreciated the hospitality you showed.”

I snapped at her and she used the Voice on me last time we spoke, you think.  “We appreciated her guidance,” you say, knowing she probably knows what transpired between you two.  Presumably so does her husband.  You glance over at the Count a few times and wonder, does he like the idea of his wife fucking other men and carrying their children?  Or does he merely tolerate it?

“Did your brother give reason for not attending your birthday celebrations?” he asks.  “Surely he attended your nuptials, at least.”

“He did,” Feyd says, “but his presence wasn’t required for either.”

You hesitate, wondering if it’s going to exacerbate rather than ease his tension, before finding his hand under the table and brushing your fingertips against his knuckles in a silent invitation to take his hand.  He doesn’t look over at you, but after a moment’s stillness, takes your hand in his and sets it on his leg.  

Since it’s the na-Baron’s belated birthday and another chance to show his statesmanship, the Baron delegates the two of you with seeing off your foreign visitors afterwards.  It also conveniently saves him the strain of having to continue staying upright and making small-talk instead of lounging in what Feyd has described only as “the tub” in a tone that makes you glad you’ve never seen it.

Count and Lady Fenring are finally leaving–you bid them farewell for the last time alone while Feyd sees off a representative from the House Corrino.  After what he told you about the Emperor, you assume his reasoning for this is two-fold.

Hasimir Fenring’s in the Emperor’s ear as well.  You wonder what he’s going to report about you as he kisses your gloved hand.  You wonder what Lady Fenring really thinks about you as you smile at each other for what you hope will be the last time for the foreseeable future.

“Your visit has been most educational,” you tell her.

She knows what you mean.  You don’t even have it in you to hate her all that much.  You don’t think she’d ever have done anything with Feyd if given the choice, and that makes it somehow more fucked up.

And then they’re all gone, docked and shipped out, and things can go back to normal.

None of this was ever normal, though.  And even with the understanding you think you’ve reached with him, it’s never going to be the same.  

Neither of you talk much at dinner.  The Baron shares some of the more salacious details about Count Fenring, knowing neither of you want to hear it.

“He’s not just sterile, he’s impotent,” he says, picking up a piece of lamb by the bone and dipping it in a cream-based sauce.  “The man’s testicles are purely decorative, and on top of that he’s hardly an intimidating man to look at, but he commands respect and why?  Shrewd political mind.  It will get you farther than just muscle.  Bodies age and break down but that’s all fine as long as you keep a sharp mind, Feyd.  Remember that.”

“I will, Uncle,” Feyd says, ignoring the sauce for his own lamb.  “But I don’t think my body will be breaking down any time soon.”

He looks like he regrets it the moment he says it, because the Baron smirks.  “Oh, certainly not yours , nephew.  You’re still a handsome young man.  Eventually, though, age comes for everyone.”  He turns to look at you with the closest thing to an affable smile he possesses.  “Believe it or not, young Y/N, I didn’t always look like this.  I was never as attractive as Feyd here, but I was leaner, had a more defined jawline.”

There’s something unsettling about him trying to be friendly towards you, especially as Feyd looks downright thunderous as he stares at the knife clenched in his fist like he’d rather use it to cut his uncle rather than his meat.

“Well,” you say, shifting in your seat, “as you said, my lord Baron, the sharpness of the mind is the most important thing, and you certainly still have that.”

Something’s wrong.  It was far easier to overlook when there were multiple other people to entertain at dinnertime but the tension between Feyd and his uncle is palpable, even as the Baron ignores it.  It lingers and follows you after dinner, when you and Feyd walk together to your quarters, and you know a conjugal visit is in order and you know that perhaps it would be more prudent to just let him fuck you first and then interrogate him when he’s spent and pliant.  But with everything Feyd’s talked about, the way he spoke of the Baron, sends whatever desire you might have been trying to build up cratering. 

So when you get to your bedroom door you turn to him and blurt out, “Can we talk first?”

Feyd looks at you and nods, his movements serpentine in their grace as he follows you inside and you shut the door behind you.  He waits, and for a brief moment you think about speaking evasively before dismissing the thought entirely.  This is neither the time nor the place to play coy.

“What did your uncle really say about me?” you ask.  “On your birthday?  What are his plans within plans for me?”

Feyd doesn’t look surprised at the question.  A muscle twitches in his jaw.  Dread rises in the pit of your stomach, threatening to evict your dinner.  His eyes look darker than usual.  

“After you bear my son, my uncle wants me to wed the princess Irulan,” he says.

And even as you can’t say you’re surprised you can’t help but gasp, hand flying towards your belly, because whatever conversation they had about this didn’t involve the words annulment or polygamy and Feyd doesn’t need to spell that out for you.

Feyd’s lips part just a fraction at the look on your face and he reaches a hand out, stopping for a moment when you flinch, and then moving slower to cup the side of your face.  His palm is warm.  

“I won’t,” he adds.  “ You’re my wife, and I’ll have no other.  You’re not going anywhere, Y/N Harkonnen.  You’ll be my na-Baroness and them my Baroness and perhaps even Empress.  We’ll have more children after this and you won’t have to worry about him .  Neither of us will.”

“You said your coronation would have to be legitimate.  You said you’d have to earn your ascension to the throne,” you tell him.  “You were so adamant that it was the only way to take over,” you tell him.  Your heart beats like a rabbit’s, chest heaving, feeling like you’re about to throw up.  You force yourself to look at him as he uses his free hand to cup the other side of your face.  He looks so calm.  How can he look this calm?

“I’ll say this only once,” he says.  “He’ll be gone by the time you’re in labor.”

Your eyes dart across his face, looking for a sign of anything that could contradict the conviction in his voice and you find none.  He means it.  

“Care to explain how?” you ask.

Feyd tucks in his bottom lip for a moment and exhales.  “Better not,” he says, “for the sake of plausible deniability.”  He pauses.  “At least, not yet. ”

You take a breath.  “Is that why he didn’t want us to have time to be alone together on your birthday?” you ask.  “Or were you never planning on telling me about this, either?”

“I wasn’t sure how I would, or when,” Feyd says.  “But you said it yourself that you’re my political ally as well as my wife.”  He tries to give you a smile; it’s a twitch of the lips.  “I wouldn’t withhold information about a potential assassination from my greatest political ally.” 

He kisses you once, slow but not deep, as if feeling out how receptive you are to it, and trying not to seem too disappointed that while you don’t resist, you barely reciprocate.  

“Not tonight, then,” he says.  

“We can,” you offer.  He can hear the reluctance in your voice.

“Not for nothing, Y/N, but I tend to enjoy it more when you aren’t morose and I must assume dry as a bone,” he says.

You sigh, looking down.  He’s not wrong.  You haven’t been aroused once since his birthday party a few nights ago and this conversation hasn’t helped in the slightest.  “Tomorrow night,” you tell him.  “Tomorrow night, your bedroom.”  We can do whatever you want, you almost add before he leaves, but you don’t want to offer something you’re not sure you can fulfill.

The following morning you get up early to train with him.  If anyone dared comment, they’d note that you seem a little aggressive with your offense when sparring.

During breakfast it seems like Feyd has an appetite again.  The Baron probably notices.  He also probably notices that the air between the two of you feels less tense than it has for the past couple of mornings, and of course he narrows his eyes in sidelong glances at you.  You ignore it, offering a couple of vague pleasantries about how efficiently-run Feyd’s birthday festivities were.  

“So,” you ask Feyd as you set down your distilled water.  “What’s the process like?  Moving to Arrakis?”

The Baron sits a little further upright.  “You told her about Arrakis, boy?” he asks.  You glance away from him, thinking, He told me about much more than that you sick man.  

Feyd glances at you before answering, his tone unfazed.  “If I’m leaving her behind for months then she should know why,” he says.

The Baron looks between the two of you as if he can get more answers from a single glance, and you look down at your food and spread a pat of butter onto your toast.  So far your appetite hasn’t changed.  It probably won’t for another few weeks.

When you get back to your quarters you write to your parents to give them the news of your pregnancy.  You want them to hear it from you first rather than a formal announcement from Geidi Prime a couple of weeks from now.

In the letter Mother sent you, she had asked, her tone vague but concerned to the point that you could imagine her voice faltering as she dictated the words, if the Baron was being kind to his niece-in-law.  You’d laughed bitterly when reading it, knowing what she was asking.  He has never shown any untoward interest in me, you’d responded, thinking, that’s not the problem at all .

You’re going to take to Feyd’s bed again tonight, as you told him; even as you’re still not looking forward to it, you’ll power through.  You don’t want the bed to grow colder.  You don’t want him to get frustrated and find other bodies to fuck, even as you know that will likely happen anyway in your upcoming months of separation.  You were able to get leverage with him in the first place by catering to his desires.  That’s how you’ll keep it.

And that’s what you tell yourself when you strip and shower that evening after dinner, and don’t bother to dress after drying yourself off, padding naked into his bathroom and past it into his bedroom.

You’d wanted to feel arousal, and you’re certain you’ll get there eventually.  You weren’t aroused the first couple of nights of your marriage but he’d gotten you sufficiently wet enough for him to fuck, even if it was a rough passage.  

Feyd’s sitting naked on the edge of his bed with his elbows resting on his knees.  “So what’s keeping you from getting wet tonight?” he asks as soon as he gets a good look at you.

“How would you even know that?” you ask.

If he had eyebrows you’re certain he’d raise them at that.  “I’ve gotten to know your body pretty well, pet,” he says, and you don’t normally mind the nickname but tonight there’s no appeal to it.  “If you’re wet I can practically smell it.  When you’re feeling desire it shows, and when you’re not it shows even more.”

“I don’t know,” you tell him.  “It’s not important.”

“Last time we fucked you were drooling and practically begging for my cock,” he says.  “I’m not interested in going from that to you only tolerating it and I want to know why that is so I can fix it.”

You sigh, trying to think, trying to find the words, embarrassed when you do.  Because it sounds so shallow and petty when you do. “I guess it’s because I’m yours but you’re not mine,” you say finally.  It’s not something you ever allowed yourself to think about, not even as a child who knew you’d have to get married one day and knew you might not like or even know the man you’d marry. 

But now you are married and you think you’ve gotten to know the man you’ve married pretty well, especially over the last few days.  You even like him sometimes, despite everything.  

Feyd blinks and tilts his head, his lips curled into a faint smirk.  “You think I’m not yours?” he asks, his tone shifting.  Teasing.   You bristle.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you say.  “Not right now.  Not after everything that’s happened.”

“I’m not.  I’m just surprised, pet,” he says.  He rises and stands, walking slowly towards you, his movements almost serpentine.  “You really think I’ve ever willingly given as much of myself up for anyone as I have with you?  Servants and enemies alike fear my very name, run from my shadow, tremble before me.  But you have me in a way no one else does.”

You hesitate.  You didn’t expect his words to send heat through your lower body.  You lick your lips before you realize you’re doing it.  

“Do I? ” you ask, your voice deeper than normal.

Feyd senses the shift within you.  He can probably smell just like he says.

“Use me,” he says.  “Take as much as you want from me, as much as you can.  I can handle it.”

You glance down at his full, plush lips.  They curve into a real smile when he notices where you’re looking.

“We can start there.”

The collar’s heavier than yours.  There are prongs on the inside–they’re dull, they won’t pierce Feyd’s throat, but they’ll still dig into his skin, potentially even break it.  You look at it and look at him and your heart beats faster.

You glance back at the armoire; the leash isn’t the same fine silver chain but a heavier length of metal chain.  It’ll be an effort for him to comfortably keep his head up after a while.  It’ll be an effort for you to hold it after a while.

“You sure I’m ready for this?” you ask him.

“I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t,” he says.  “Do you think you’re ready?  More importantly, do you want this?”

You picture him on his knees wearing nothing but the collar you’re holding and you answer without a drop of hesitation, “ Yes .”

He guides your hands as you unfasten the collar and wrap it around his neck, when you fasten again, but he brings his hands to his sides and keeps them there when you clip the chain to the center of his collar.  You take a step back for a moment to get a better look at him, how he stands proud while naked and leashed, your handsome plaything, and thinks he looks perfect.

Or rather, almost perfect.

“What else do you want to do?” he asks when he sees you thinking.

“I want to tie you up,” you admit.  “The way you’ve tied my hands behind my back.”  The memory of the way he’d fucked you relentlessly from behind with one hand pressing your head into the mattress and the other holding up your hips as you’d felt utterly, deliciously powerless flickers.  You want him to have the same feeling.

“Alright,” he says, unfazed.  “I can talk you through it.”

And as it turns out he’s a decent knot-making instructor.  He crosses his arms in an X across his back, turning his head to look at you as best he can while you stand behind him and cinch the ropes in–not tight enough to cut off his circulation, but to keep the knots intact.  You smile as you circle around him once it’s done, caressing his biceps, his shoulders, the parts of his back not marred by scars before crossing in front of him.  His pectorals look especially prominent this way, pressed forward and impossible not to play with.  So you do, groping the warm flesh, pinching the stiff peaks.

“On your knees, Feyd,” you say softly.

He’s far more graceful than he ought to be as his knees hit the floor in one long smooth movement.  You gasp at the sight, nearly dropping the chain as you take in the way the long, pale muscles in his thighs look as he kneels before you.  You look at the elegant lines of him from an angle you only now realize that you’ve never seen before.  Feyd’s eyes dart everywhere, zigzagging across the different planes of your body, and you smile as you take a step forward and cup your own breast, watching how Feyd’s pupils dilate, how his semi-stiff cock finishes filling out.  You stare back at him as you trail your hand down further, in between your legs, idly stroking and rubbing, letting your fingertips collect the growing slick down there before pushing two fingers inside.

You see his breath hitch, chest expanding, as you pull your fingers back out and step in close, just above him.  His mouth falls open the moment you bring your fingertips to his face; his head tilted back as he gazes at you with the same delirious, worshipful look he’d had a week ago.  He laps at your honey coating your fingers, gaze burning into you, his cock hard.

You grin down at him as you tug on the chain.  He closes his eyes for a moment, lips parted and twitching upwards in a brief smile.

You know what you want; when he’s licked you in the past it’s always been when you were on your back or on all fours, and never with the same domination as when he’s gotten you on your knees for him.  You know the physiology will be different, and trickier to navigate, but you’ll both manage.

Feyd moans softly as you grip the back of his head with your free hand, nuzzling against your bare cunt, his nose against your bud and his tongue reaching out to lap at what he can access.  His forehead rests against your mons for a moment.

“You’re so eager for it,” you tell him as you try to sound like you aren’t eager yourself, like you aren’t fucking dripping for this.  “So desperate.  You’d beg for this, wouldn’t you?”  You don’t wait for an assent before adding, “You don’t have to.”

You shift your feet, legs going wider, and slide one thigh over Feyd’s shoulder. 

He moans again, desperate, breath ragged, as you grip his skull tighter and grind your slit down onto him.  

If you didn’t have all night, you’d be embarrassed at how quickly your momentum builds the first time, moaning shamelessly, breath hitching, as you ride his mouth.  You think about how the first time he ever put his mouth here that you’d wished he had hair you can pull but realize now that you can manage just fine.  You think about how it’s been over a week since he’s licked you here, and nearly that since he’s touched you at all and that could be why you’re getting so close so fast.  And then you can’t think at all.

You have to hold onto his head and neck for support when you come and you gasp for air, raising your hips off of him enough to breathe.  

“You could come just from this, couldn’t you?” you ask, dazed, hardly able to speak, pulling him off long enough for him to groan an assent.  “Don’t.  Not yet.  I’ll take care of you when you’re finished here.”

And with that you bring his face back in, nails digging into the back of his head as you move his mouth for a moment, dragging his eager tongue inside of you.  You can’t help the snarl in the back of your throat as you feel his nose against your clit, building yet again, so close.

He seems to forget he needs his mouth and nose to breathe, and a couple of times you nearly do, too, grinding his face into your privates as you dig your nails into his skull, tugging on his chain as you keep your thigh draped over his shoulder, the metal digging into your skin as the muscles in your inner thigh squeeze his cheek .  “That’s it. Fucking take it, Feyd,” you hear yourself say at one point.

You wonder how he can enjoy being nearly smothered in between your thighs, but when you manage to get a glimpse southward, he still looks achingly hard, precome glistening at the tip.  Well, alright then .

You’re just as much of a desperate whore for this as I am, you think, and collapse forward for a moment, and bring your leg down, sliding it off his shoulder, realizing that if you keep going like this you won’t be stable enough to stay upright.  You take a deep breath, spread your stance, and tug Feyd’s collar down so he has to sink down lower, going from kneeling to sitting on his haunches, tilting his neck.  You switch his chain from one hand to the other, dragging your nails down the back of his head as you yank his chain forward.  

How is he still going with this kind of enthusiasm?   You feel like you're pushing yourself nearly as much as him when he’s the one being put to work.  Can he lick your cunt, his face buried in it, for hours?  Can he last longer than you can doing this?

Well, now you certainly intend to find out. 

You don’t know how long you keep going, grinding his mouth against you until you shudder and come, and then releasing him so you can both breathe before you pull him in again.  It’s too much.  It’s agonizing.  It's perfect and it’s actually starting to hurt but you also want to keep going, addicted to everything he’s giving you, and you stumble, legs shaking, vision going white for a second.

“Hold on,” you manage.  “I need to sit down.  I–I can’t…”

You relax the chain, stepping back so you can sit down at the edge of the bed.  Feyd shuffles forward on his knees and for a moment you wish you hadn’t tied his wrists so you could watch him crawl towards you.

My beautiful obedient beast , you think, as he reaches you, sits back on his haunches, and leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to your pussy.

“Wait,” you tell him before he can.  “Just stay there for a second.  I need a moment before I’m ready again,” you add, still feeling fluttery.  You hold the back of his head in place with your free hand, close to your swollen, slick cunt, his nose not-quite brushing against it, his cheek resting against your inner thigh.  He gives the closest thing a voice like his could make to a whine, desperate to dive back in, not daring to move as you curl your fingers around the back of his head.  You spend several minutes this way, him on his knees, in place, hardly moving a muscle.  You feel his lashes flutter, but otherwise he remains still.

There’s something so deeply intoxicating about having this kind of power, about his warm breath against your cunt, about how obedient and submissive he is.  He’d stay down there all night if you asked, kneeling before you, wanting to but not touching you, not tasting you, until you commanded him.  

You smile, eyes shut, tamping down on a fit of giggles and the urge to say, Down, boy .  You loosely wrap one hand around his throat, just above his collar and then trail your fingers over his scalp.

You finally open your eyes and look down at him.  His bright blue eyes shining with hope, but not daring to say a word, waiting for you to tell him what to do.

“Oh, alright then,” you tell him.  You feel delirious as you tug his chain forward and he dives in, desperate, as if grateful for the chance for you to fuck his face again.  As if you’re the one doing him a service.

You groan, spent and running on fumes at this point but still not willing to let up, curious to see how much more he has in him.  How much more you can handle.  “That’s it, Feyd.  This is what your mouth was made for,” you say, and at this moment you’re pretty sure it’s true.  Your nerves are frayed and you’ve been so thoroughly tasted it’s becoming painful and your muscles feel as taut as if you’d just had a strenuous training session when really all you’ve done is have your cunt feasted on.  And still you persist out of sheer stubbornness until the tension builds again.  You shift and spread your legs a little wider, sitting closer to the edge of the bed and rolling your hips against Feyd’s face.  He can hear your breath hitch, your moans getting more desperate.

You start babbling, unable to keep the words from spilling out every image that pops into your head.  “Next time I use you– ah, fuck!  I, I’m gonna tie your wrists to the bedpost and fucking use every part of your body.  I’m going to ride your dick and then ride your face until you get hard again, just gonna alternate between the two until I drain you.  I’ll never get sick of it your fucking magnificent body and that mouth –”

And then you come, one last time, doubling over as you clutch the back of his head with both hands, burying his face in as deep as it can go, his nose scrunched up against your bud and his tongue buried inside of you.  You hear your own guttural scream as you shudder, moving his head side to side for a moment to wrench every last bit of pleasure out of it before you can come down.

For a moment you hold him there, just enjoying the closeness of him.  He’s still breathing, thankfully.  What an embarrassing obituary that would be.  Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, dead at twenty-six.  Cause of death: suffocated on his wife’s pussy.   You can’t help but laugh as you pull him off, but the laughter fades as you get a good look at him.

He’s a mess, his face drenched.  His eyes blaze, his cock leaking precome.  He stays where he is as he gazes up at you.  He’s still looking at you with hope and desire.  Did I do good? What else can I do for you?  Do you want me to go back in?  I’ll go back in .

“Wow,” you say softly, thinking, You’re so beautiful like this .  

It takes what feels like a full minute to be able to stand again, your legs trembling, and you give Feyd just enough slack on the leash for him to continue kneeling.  His knees must be in agony right now.  He probably wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Stand up,” you tell him anyway, watching as he slowly manages to rise, biting back a groan at the effort.  “Good.  That’s good,” you say softly, looking up at him once more.  He keeps his head bowed, breath smelling of you and ghosting over your lips as he waits for further instructions.  You smile at him as you unclip his leash and let the chain fall to the floor between you.

You touch his chest again, made more prominent as he squeezes his arms behind his back as if standing at attention.  You decide you won’t untie him just yet as you run your hands down his torso, spread them to his sides and down his hips, your fingertips just barely digging into the flesh of his ass.  You haven’t talked about it yet, aren’t sure how well or poorly he’d respond to being touched there, so you keep the contact brief.  You don’t want to ruin anything when he’s been so good for you and seems like he’s still in that space in which he’s inclined to do whatever you want.  Feyd stays stock-still, like a good soldier awaiting your orders, and you find your voice.

“Have a seat, husband,” you tell him as you step aside to let him, and he does, where you just were, and waits.

You start by standing in between his legs, pressing your breasts together, and leaning down to rub them against his face.  He dives in eagerly, licking, kissing, sucking marks into the soft flesh.  It only briefly feels strange to feel your own slick there, but your mind seems to discard that after coming to the conclusion that it isn’t unpleasant.

“They’re going to get bigger in no time,” you say aloud.  “Will you like that, Feyd?”  He moans an affirmation, albeit a muffled one as you guide his face in the space between your breasts and keep him there for a moment.  “When they’re full and juicy and there’s more to play with?”

He moans again, chest heaving.

“You’ve been so good for me, Feyd,” you tell him as you caress the back of his head.  “So sweet, so devoted.  Are you ready for your reward?  I think you’ve finally earned it.”

And then you get on your knees.  His mouth falls open in a gasp, as if he hasn’t seen you in this position before.

Granted, he’s never come in your mouth before, even as he’s said he’s thought about it.  You caress the tops of his thighs, your thumbs trailing along the insides, before you grip his cock, tilt your head, and give him one long lick from sac to tip.

His breath comes in rapid pants, the salt of precome making the slide of him in your mouth all the easier.  You take him down as far as you can manage, your tongue along the underside of his cock.  Maybe next time you’ll tease him a bit more, take more time with this, but tonight you want to give him his reward.

“A- ah! ” He shudders and gasps as he comes in your mouth for the first time; it’s viscous and briny and you choke a little as you swallow it down but you swallow it down all the same, sticking your tongue out to swipe at what's left around your lips.

You get up and nearly stumble as you settle on his lap, kissing him, reaching for the ropes that bind him because you need him to touch you and you’re certain that he needs it, too.  You kiss your own slick off his lips and taste it on his tongue as he tastes himself on yours and perhaps someone else would find that disgusting.  A while ago that someone probably would’ve been you.  Right now it feels devastatingly intimate as you fumble with the knots and finally set him free, the rope dropping onto the covers.

Feyd’s hands slide over your hips and waist, into your hair.  He buries his face against your neck for a moment, his breath a rattle.  And you’re straddling his hips and his chest is pressed against you and, somehow, despite how overstimulated you are, you need him inside of you again.  It’s been multiple nights.  It’s fine if you don’t come; you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come tonight, it’s all a blur.  You just want him nestled within you, just like this.

“Do you think you can get hard again?” you ask as you caress the back of his head, which he lowers to your breasts.

“I…” he starts, voice muffled as he holds on to you.  “ Augh, I…” he pauses, shutting his eyes.  “Yeah, I can.  Anything.  Anything you want.”  

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” you say, rocking against him.  It takes a few minutes, all dignity gone as you dry hump him slowly, your slick gliding over his spent cock until it starts to stiffen again, but there’s no one else here to see or judge it.  You can barely think as you raise up on your knees and spit into your palm before reaching down and wrapping a hand around him to work him to fullness.  It brings him face-level again with your breasts, and he takes advantage of the fact for the moments he can.  It makes you smile.  For a man with no particular voices it sometimes seems like he’s downright addicted to your body.

“Alright now,” you murmur once you feel Feyd’s cock hot and rigid in your grasp again and start to slide down.

It’s almost languid at first.  You just want to feel his cock inside you.  You hadn’t thought you’d miss it when it’s been less than a week.  You might go mad with frustration when he’s on Arrakis, you think, rocking slowly down onto him.

But that’s when a thought occurs, and you start to speed up, rising and falling on him with greater fervor.  You’re going to milk this man dry, you think, and giggle to yourself at the thought.  Between now and when he ships out to Arrakis you’re going to fuck him so good and so often he’ll be satisfied for the weeks, even months you won’t see each other.  You’re going to replace anyone else he could ever want in his mind’s eye.  

That’s what you’re thinking as you start riding him harder, faster.  Feyd’s gasps and grunts grow in volume alongside yours, his hands wandering everywhere now that they’re free to, but letting you take full control of the rhythm of him inside of you, letting you slake your lust on him rather than insisting on the other way around.

And as such you didn’t think you’d be able to come again tonight, but you were wrong.

“ Mmm! ” you shudder and shut your eyes as you can feel yourself start to clench up, almost at the precipice.

You nudge Feyd’s shoulder with one hand and he goes down, back hitting the mattress.  He gapes open-mouthed at you, eyes cloudy with lust and you gaze down at him until the pressure makes you shut your eyes again, until it’s too much and you’re grinding on him hard and fast.  You feel his hands cupping your breasts the first crest you wave, and then him coming inside of you on the second and stronger one that has you crying out.

Your mouth, your hands, your cock, they all belong to me, Feyd .  You can’t speak.

You can’t quite stop moving in the moments after you come, hips jerking awkwardly before you still, taking a deep breath, feeling the contracting and relaxing muscles of Feyd’s abdomen under your hands.  It takes another moment for you to come to your senses enough to open your eyes and look at the timepiece on your nightstand, and then you can’t help but laugh when you see that the two of you were at this for over an hour.

You look down at Feyd, who sits back up to meet you for a kiss.

“So,” you say, smiling into the kiss.  “Do you feel sufficiently used?”

“Dunno,” he says.  “Have you taken all you want?”

You nod against his lips.  “For tonight,” you tell him, and give him one last kiss before unfastening his collar.  The skin around his throat is red, indentations where the prongs dug in, and you press your lips there before nipping at it with your teeth.  He just holds onto you for the time being, tilting his head to give you access where you want it, breath coming in soft pants when you use your teeth on him.  You bring your mouth to the shell of his ear and murmur, “If you give me a second, I’ll put everything away.”

It takes some effort.  Your thighs shake as you slide off of him and grab the collar and rope.  You remember as you pick up the chain and walk over to the armoire that he’ll want some water as well.  If you’re thirsty from the amount of noise you made, then he certainly will be, too.

You sense movement and see Feyd shifting to the edge of the bed, about to get up, watching as you set everything back in place.  “Just relax, husband,” you tell him over your shoulder, proud of the fact that you can walk and sound coherent when you feel like you might pass out.  “I’ll take care of it.”

And you do; you wonder if this is how he feels on nights he pulls from his armoire.  You wonder if he feels the same kind of smug pride putting his equipment away while you lay in bed, exhausted and recovering.  You wonder if the reassuring calm as he does it is just as much of a facade, because tonight you’re pretty sure he took you to your limit even more than you took him to his.

You lay back, afterwards.  He nestles in between your legs, his head on your belly as you absently stroke his back and neck.  There will be visible scratches there and along his scalp, conspicuously at the back of his head.  The indentations of the collar will need to be covered; while people will certainly notice the scratches you doubt anyone will dare comment. 

“How soon is too soon to tell everyone?” you ask.

He turns his head, gradually coming out of his dazed, heightened state you don’t have a name for, and kisses your stomach before resting against it once more.  “If I felt it was appropriate, I’d burst out of this room right now and shout it to the whole planet and the Emperor himself that you’re carrying my child,” he says.  “Realistically, I’d say we should wait a couple of weeks, though.  After a doctor’s visit to confirm it.”

“Will you be there for it?” you ask, stroking his cheek and lifting two fingers under his chin to tilt his head towards you.  His cloudy blue eyes brighten a little.

“I’ll be here.  I don’t ship out to Arrakis for another month.”

“And after that?” you ask. 

“I’ll fix Rabban’s mistakes.  I’ll recover our lost Spice.  I’ll extinguish the Fremen rebellion.  And then I’ll come back to you,” he says.

And what will I do before you come back? you don’t ask.  You’ll need to.  You’ve thought about asking to go home, to Y/P, where you can be with your family and foster the life growing inside of you in an actually hospitable climate.  

You shift your legs a little further apart to get more comfortable.  Feyd gives a soft sigh and shifts as well, his breath tickling your bare skin and his arms loosely wrapped around you.

You’ll bring it up later. 

Tag list: @aemondseyepatch @alexandrainlove @richardslady121 @wo-ming-bai @blazeflays @cavillandevanssandwhich Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for future chapters!

[ficbrish]

Chapter 4 - The Housekeeper

Rating: Explicit 18+ only!

[Ao3 link] | [Previous chapter] | [From the beginning]

[[TW/CW: Drugs, horror elements, cptsd, domestic violence references, spying, death mentions, suicide references]]

Summary: The baroness has a sort of hangover, and what a hangover it is!

Vistri awakened to Jaheira patting her face with a cool, damp cloth. It felt so pleasant that a small, vulnerable noise involuntarily slipped from her parched lips like a sick child being soothed. Rising, she stretched and immediately recognized the calming familiarity of her silk sheets. Vistri was back at Harper House, tucked away in the security of her own bed.

Before she could get her thick tongue back in working order, Jaheira helped her to sit up and take a few small sips of tepid water.

Anticipating the question her mistress was going to ask, the housekeeper explained, “You fell faint in the Shadowheart’s drawing room. Lady Hallowleaf and her cousin escorted you back here in her carriage.”

She groaned as the embarrassment settled over her.

Jaheira spoke warningly, “This is the second time, within only a week, that Lady Hallowleaf has served you something that's kept you confined to your chambers.”

“Oh, what of it?” Vistri scoffed defensively, “Do not blame these misfortunes on my only true friend!”

Surely, Jaheira had more to say on the subject of Jenevelle, but her only response was to pause dabbing and raise a pointed brow.

“Besides you, that is!” Vistri grumpily clarified, “Don’t you start becoming jealous! Green doesn’t suit you quite so well as you think.”

Smirking, Jaheira asked, “What happened to you over there?”

The answer to that question was horrifying. Vistri had put others into a situation which required them to take care of her. A shameful thing, truly! Then, because apparently she could do nothing right, including take a bit of medicine, she’d passed out on the settee.

She bit her lip, took a deep breath, and paused before answering, “I fell ill.”

Her voice was so small; her eyes grew as wide as they’d been when she was even smaller. It was the one weakness of her stubborn, lifelong companion. Such a look rarely sat on Vistri’s face, but whenever it did, Jaheira was ready to burn down the world to avenge its cause.

The problem was, she never actually did.

Maybe that’s why the older woman always blamed herself whenever her mistress wore that look. It was a never-ending cycle; the shame, from having failed to act before, twisted through her veins, freezing her out of existence until it was too late to act again.

When Vistri was married off to the late baron, Jahiera had only been a lady’s maid, not the keeper of Harper House. Before that, she was Vistri’s governess. And even before that, she’d started as her nurse. Quite uncommonly done, they were well aware, but it suited them perfectly. Their bond was such that nothing in life could separate them.

So when Vistri was married off to the late baron, Jaheira was confident that she could protect her mistress from anything.

But when Vistri was married off to the late baron, he became Jaheira's employer. That man took legal ownership over Vistri the same way one would a horse, or the land of a pig farm. His wishes had to be answered over hers. So, when it was the baron who made Vistri's heart break through the scream in her eyes, Jaheira was powerless to do anything more than pick up the pieces of it.

She couldn’t do anything to risk getting dismissed. For if Jaheira were ever to be banished from Harper House, she would not even be able to pick up those pieces.

Vistri always insisted she did not blame her, but they both knew it was a lie. She couldn’t help but blame the woman who was meant to protect her, and Jaheira knew that, and didn’t hold that blame against her.

She soothed her mistress with a gentle, “Shoo shoo shoo,” followed by the relief of the freshly-cooled cloth dabbing along her bare shoulders.

Then, for the first time since her late husband gasped his last breath and shat himself, Vistri cried. And Jaheira was there to pick up the pieces.

It might seem odd to one who didn’t know the baron that he allowed a lady’s maid to rise to the position of housekeeper. True, a housekeeper had control over only the women’s domain, and the baron employed both a steward and butler who were loyal to his line and Harper House above all else; but it was odd for a man like him, who needed to exert control over everything, to allow someone so loyal to his wife to obtain such power in his household.

One might look at such a gesture and call it a rare kindness.

However, to Baron Hurzeth Harper of Reithwin, kindness was nothing more than a whetstone with which to sharpen his knives.

It wasn’t until he was thoroughly displeased with his young wife that he’d elevated Jaheira’s position. The news of it came as such a shock that the two of them thought that it was perhaps the beginnings of an apology; that things might get better from then on after all. Jaheira’s promotion gave her and her mistress a bit of hope to hold onto. Hope he then snatched from their fingers just to wrap around their necks.

He’d given Jaheira the illusion of power rather than anything real. And with the lie of greater agency, came a stronger sense of responsibility. When she’d failed to stand up to him as a lady’s maid, Jaheira felt like the lowest creature. She was convinced of it.

Until she failed to stand up as the housekeeper. It was then she learned that a higher ledge just made for a longer descent.

Raising Jaheira’s position wasn’t an act of kindness, but a means to torment his wife more effectively. The baron’s favorite pastime. Considering that his final act on this plane was to stink up the room, causing his brand-new widow to pinch up her nose and endure him one last time, he’d died doing what he loved.

When they lowered him into the dirt, where scum like him belonged, Jaheira swore a vow to never let anyone stand in the way of her protective instincts ever again. It was credit to her luck that, immediately after the funeral, Vistri dismissed all the members of staff most loyal to the late baron. With the old steward gone, and no need of a valet, housekeeper was now the highest position at Harper House aside from the lady of it.

As the effective steward of Harper House, Jaheira needed to know that her domain was truly hers. That there would be no disrespect or mutiny was key, but her ambitions didn’t stop at household peace. She wanted something greater than that, perhaps to make up for her previous failures. A staff, as loyal to her as she was to her mistress, was exactly what she needed, and within that, she would cultivate her own network of spies.

Vistri needn’t ever know.

Jaheira didn’t view keeping such information to herself as a deception. If her mistress ever asked, she would answer plainly. But why bother the lady with servant business? The spy network would not be for the sake of passing on information to which Vistri could then weaponize at will. It was solely for the sake of her protection! For Jaheira to better understand all the possible and very real threats that were ready to tangle her charge’s ankles and drag her down.

Nothing like that would ever happen again. Even after her own death, the network she’d spend her final years sustaining would be a way of watching over Vistri from the grave.

It was almost a relief for Jaheira to have her mistress breaking down in her arms again. Not only did she know in those moments who she was and how to be, it also gave her an outlet for releasing all the inappropriate motherly feelings she held secret in her heart. A way for her to just hold Vistri and let her know that things would be okay.

After a fit and a nap, her mistress was almost right again. Seeing Vistri recover faster from Lady Hallowleaf’s tincture than her punchbowl would have satisfied Jaheira in previous years, but now the very fact that Vistri had to recover at all was enough to tempt her obsessive sense of foreboding. Jenevelle was a pleasant enough girl, and a true friend to her mistress, but something about her wasn’t quite right lately.

Jaheira needed to find out the what and why of it. Her gut was ringing alarm bells. So, she marched down to the kitchens in the servant’s quarters, and waited for the one she’d been told about to happen by. Like a spider perched in her web, she would remain seated at the table until they met by chance.

Luckily, that specific footman had a bad case of the late-night munchies and did not keep her waiting long.

“Having a snack?”

Not having seen her there, the man jumped, “Pardon, ma’am!”

“Cal, is it?”

With just a slight movement of her eyes, which he could barely see in the dim candlelight, she commanded him to take a seat nearby. He nodded and obliged, awkwardly sitting down somewhat across from her.

“Yes, ma’am,” he tipped his head respectfully.

“How’s your family?” she asked. Her voice was neither warm nor threatening.

“They’re fine, ma’am,” the footman answered hesitantly.

Catching his gaze and holding it, she lifted the corners of her mouth into a slight smile that did not reach her eyes, “I hear you have a sister who is looking for work.”

Jaheira watched excitement bloom over his face and an outburst form on his lips, but then he appeared to stop himself answering. Taking a moment to think over her intentions made Jaheira think that he must be less useless than he appeared.

The way he cleared his throat and boldly answered, “And a brother too,” made her decide he was the right tiefling for the job.

She smiled. It still wasn’t warm, but neither was it threatening.

“Ah,” she said, “How fortunate. For we are in need of a lady’s maid and a steward, and you have a brother and sister who both seem to be in need of a steady position.”

Understanding Jaheira through the squint in her eyes and the carefulness of her tone, Cal nodded.

“Rolan lives for libraries and balancing accounts—things like that, and Lia’s a quick study! Both are quite capable,” he confidently leaned forward and spoke his next words a little lower, “And if you were to take us on, that would be three of us forever grateful.”

Jaheira’s eyes sparkled, “Well, then Cal. How would you feel about sharing a workplace with your siblings?”

With those promises squared away, she sent him on a mission: Find out just what in the hells was going on with Lady Hallowleaf! And if it were possible, identify the mysterious laudanum that sent Baroness Harper off into a deep sleep in the middle of the afternoon.

As the person most loyal to Vistri plotted below in the depths of the house, she rose out of bed and walked over to her window. The room was unbearably stuffy, but Vistri couldn’t let any fresh air in, for the baron had all the windows sealed shut after about the tenth time she’d threatened to jump out of them.

She sighed and looked out at the dark. With the way she’d wept for hours in her housekeeper’s arms, Vistri felt emptied in the same way one did after they were sick. The poison was out, but just for a little while, and then it would creep back. But for a glorious few moments, one felt lighter than air instead of all murky. She wanted to take advantage of it and gaze at the moon, but there were not even stars out because the clouds were too thick.

There was only darkness. A great, vast darkness filled with the unknown.

And anything could be out there, unseen.

Vistri pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders although she wasn’t cold. She tried to force herself to think of pleasant things that could be out there to stop her mind from racing with the opposite. But all she could picture was that man being out there, buried under dirt. Harper House had its own cemetery, which now contained the entire proud Harper line. All the generations that brought the baron into her life were together now, feeding the same worms. Maybe they’d grow a rather twisted tree, poison fruit poised enticingly on its branches.

Whenever she was on the property, Vistri could feel them all out there. When she looked out into the dark, her mind played tricks, and she could practically see them. If the dead were to rise, they’d all be waiting underneath her window. Standing in the lawn, looking up at the dim light with rotten eyes.

Maybe they would want to return home.

With her late husband in the lead—surely, as the freshest of the lot—they would crawl in through the large, oak doors on dead fingers and disintegrating knees. And while the others roamed the servant’s quarters reaching for the thicker concentration of living flesh, Hurzeth would slurp up the stairs, climbing and moaning with death’s rattle. Just to punish her one last time. 

A small crack in the shadows was enough to make Vistri jump with fright.

Her rapidly-beating heart tried to break free of her ribcage as she fought to calm herself. Surely it was just a maid in the other room. Or the old wood of the house sharing a long-dead secret it had kept for decades.

Just a house sound.

Vistri suddenly shivered at the image of a frozen, greying hand brushing along her bare spine. She hugged her shawl so tight it would surely tear, then commanded herself to stop being so fucking insane!

The baron was dead. He could not reach her from the grave.

Then why couldn’t she breathe?

Surely, this is what he really wanted. For her to suffocate with him. For her to watch her sanity bleed out through her pores until she was left entirely empty; practically as dead as he was.

Shutting her eyes, Vistri tried to picture anything else but the baron’s face falling from its decay. A scream stopped itself in her throat—Jaheira! She needed Jaheira. But the bell was so very far away, with so much darkness between her and any candle. She needed to stay where she was, protected by the only weak light, where the phantoms wouldn’t be able to reach her.

The only light in the room came dimly through the window, from the lanterns outside more than the sky. And the light coming from below, rather than above, was almost oppressive. It shrunk the world, trapped Vistri within a seal of darkness.

The ceilings closed in on the floors.

Tears streamed down her face as the urge to shout for Jaheira doubled in intensity and silence. Vistri felt like she was going to die if she were left alone another second—killed by a formless ghost that she couldn’t fight back. She shook and choked on her own breathing. And then another second passed.

And another second passed.

Vistri was no better, but also no worse.

Eventually, a voice in her head directed the animal she'd devolved into, to pull herself together.

It managed to pick up her weary bones from off the floor, simpering puddle of ego death that she was. Then it shuffled her towards the bed, where her body wearily collapsed.

Still frozen in fear, she tried to think of kind things as she hid under her sheets. There was some sort of undeniable presence with her in the room, and she tried to think of kindness in order to block it out.

Jaheira! She needed Jaheira!

Panic clawed at her throat, like that scream was trying to live after all.

Kindness! Think of kindness!

But all she could see in her mind’s eye was the baron causing her shame. His hands bruising her flesh. Surely, he was in the room with her right now.

He was in the room.

You have behaved rather abysmally this evening.

Fuck you! No!

Shame and misbehavior were easier to access than kindness. Vistri found a ledge there to hold on to.

There’s so many other ways I’d love to defile you.

The baron couldn’t stop her from bending over for a stranger in the woods. The woods of his precious Harper House. She clung to the memory of it with desperate hands, trying to wear her defiance like armor against the void in the room. The deeper she felt it, the less there was room for anything else.

The power she’d gained from relinquishing everything—She could be nothing whenever she wanted. Her stranger could fuck her and then ignore her like the last time, and Vistri could be free knowing there was nothing left of her for anyone else to take.

Gasping her first deep inhale caused Vistri to shudder like she was frozen. She started to feel the stress in her veins, heavy as steel and thick like clotted blood.

Possessed by the need to disappear, she tried to feel her stranger inside her the same way she did whenever she closed her eyes and thought of him. But his touch wouldn’t come. She could only see her strang—Mr. Ancunín’s crimson eyes boring into her.

At the ball.

In the drawing room.

Even when he ignored her, it somehow felt more attentive than any other man. Under his bored, disdainful gaze from the corners of his eyes, Vistri could both fully exist and disappear.

Funnily enough, it was in the memory of Mr. Ancunín’s coldness where Vistri finally found kind thoughts.

The look in his eyes when he’d insisted on getting her tea.

The fact that he helped Lady Hallowleaf bring her back to Harper House.

These were actions contradictory to his character. Surely, there was some nefarious plot behind them, and she would not trust it. But those moments were enough to cling onto for now. During the baron’s haunt, which trapped Vistri under her sheets with his rotting stink stinging her nostrils, the image of Mr. Ancunín’s expression melting with concern was a ray of sunlight chasing the ghouls away.

She’d dispose of it later, when she no longer had need, and vowed to never tell him that once, he’d been her savior. That a small kindness of his had sustained her through a night of haunting.

Then came another sound. Like a floorboard creaking. Footsteps. His footsteps.

A rattle of death.

Vistri swore she could feel him breathing just above her blanket. Like the rot from his teeth was sinking in through the fabric, slipping past her lips, sitting on her tongue, climbing up her nose.

Fear gripped her worse than it had before. The late baron was here, hovering above her. Surely, if she were to rip off her sheets, they would be face to cursed face. Surely.

“JAHIEEERRAAA!!!!”

Vistri heard herself shrieking like a madwoman. Sobbing and kicking her sheets and screaming

screaming screaming screaming screaming screaming screaming

She couldn’t stop. A panic rose the whole house. Their mistress was surely dying.

Until the housekeeper arrived.

White-faced, she practically knocked over three housemaids scrambling to get to Vistri.

“Out of my way!” she shouted menacingly rather than apologizing.

Her ferocity melted into such tenderness, so rapidly, once at her mistress’ side, that those in witness found it more startling than their lady’s fit.

“He’s here!” she was screaming. The wildness in her eyes wasn’t abandon, it was possession.

Gathering the wreck in her arms, Jaheira cooed, “I won’t let him touch you.”

There was an eerily calm manner to the housekeeper as she rocked her mistress back and forth. One that contradicted the deep sorrow in her expression and the tears running from her eyes. Her voice, although shaking, was somehow steady, “Even if it means I have to bury him again, I will simply pick up a shovel.”

The other servants in the room just stood there, until one of the newer footmen cleared them out and shut the door behind him.

Vistri just kept shaking and muttering, “Don’t let him… Don’t let him… Don’t let him…” in a voice so broken it no longer sounded like her own.

“Shoo-shoo shoo-shoo!” Jaheira would sit with her, rocking and hushing her, for as long as this would take to pass.

Such a thing filled her heart.

Jaheira started to sing, one of those old songs in her arsenal from back when she was just Vistri’s nurse. She’d rock and sing. Filling her own heart as Vistri's broke over her shoulders.

“There, there now, little cub.”

No one would hurt her ever again.

No one would hurt her ever again.

[Next Chapter]

[vodika-vibes]

I loved the fic you did with Kix and Keeli as twins! Could you do another one but this time with the focus on Keeli x reader? Maybe fake relationship or kissing to maintain the cover kind of thing? Thanksss❤️❤️

It's Kind Of Cliche

Summary: In an attempt to get your family to stop nagging you about having a boyfriend, you lied to your family about your relationship status. It would have been all well and good, only you’ve been invited to a Family reunion, and you need a boyfriend for a week. Desperate, you turn to Keeli for aid.

Pairing: Captain Keeli x F!Reader

Word Count: 1880

Warnings: Reader is described as having hair long enough to wear in twin buns, reader is described as wearing a dress, Keeli is too hot to handle.

A/N: I'm picturing Keeli in the civilian outfit I listed in the story and I think it's gonna kill me. Send help. Also, @the-bad-batch-baroness come and get your man, he's killing me.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

You stare at the message on your comm with a feeling of dread threatening to overwhelm you. You never expected your bald-faced lie about having a boyfriend to come back and bite you.

You had planned to lie to your family about having a boyfriend, and then in six or so months, tell your parents that he cheated on you and you don’t want to talk about him ever again.

And then no one would mention you and dating in the same sentence ever again, they would have just pitied you and been angry at the imaginary boyfriend.

You didn’t expect your grandparents to host a family reunion. And you definitely didn’t expect your invitation to come with a note that you must bring your boyfriend to meet the family.

And, while you know that an invitation isn’t a summons, but skipping the event would be much, much more annoying than just biting the bullet and going.

The best solution…well, the best solution would be an emergency deployment so you don’t have to deal with the situation, but that’s not gonna happen.

So the easy answer is to admit you lied and take the comments. 

Yeah. You’re not doing that. 

So the only other option, outside of just not going, is to get a fake boyfriend.

You slide your comm back into your pocket and glance around the room. The room is absolutely filled with single, and attractive, men who would agree to be your fake boyfriend for a free home-cooked meal.

Slowly your gaze slides from one side of the room to the other, trying to decide who you want to ask for this favor. Anyone from any other battalion is automatically out, you’re not that confident.

So you’re limited to the men of General Ima-Gun Di’s battalion.

You run down a list of the men in the battalion in your head, trying to decide who might agree to your request. Of course, now that you're limiting yourself to the battalion you’re attached to, there’s only one choice.

The ever-capable, and totally gorgeous, Keeli.

Plus, as a bonus, you consider him a friend.

The fact that you’ve been nursing a crush on him for ages now definitely  didn’t factor into your decision. Not at all.

So, you steel your nerves, and then you hop to your feet to go and find the man who, you hope, will save you from a week of merciless mockery. 

��Keeli!”

You find him outside the barracks, lounging under a tree in only the bottom parts of his armor. He sits up slightly as you approach and says something to the person on the other end of the comm, then he drops his comm to the ground beside him and motions for you to join him.

“Sorry,” You say as you sit on the ground next to him, “I didn’t know you were on a call.”

“You’re fine, it was just my twin. He wanted to tell me about the date he went on last night.” Keeli leans back against the tree, but keeps his gaze locked on your face, “Did you need me for something?”

“Uh…well…I need to ask a favor.”

His eyebrows creep up his forehead, “What kind of favor?”

“My family is hosting a reunion and I need you to come with me.” You pause, and grimace, “Well. Not you specifically, but also it needs to be you because I’m the most comfortable around you.”

He stares at you silently for a moment and then he speaks, “That’s not a hard ask, I’m sure the General will be fine with it. Is it normal for your family to ask people to bring friends to these things?”

“Ahhh…” You avert your gaze sheepishly, and you can feel your face burning, “They…may have the understanding that you’re my boyfriend. Possibly.”

Keeli is completely silent, and you take a chance to look at him. He looks surprised, and more than a little disbelieving. 

Before he can answer, you rush ahead, “It’s only for a week!” You shift so you’re sitting on your knees next to him, almost begging him to come with you, “And-and-and, after we can pretend to have a big nasty break up and you won’t have to do anything more than, like, hold my hand or something—” You’re babbling now, but you can’t seem to make yourself stop.

Keeli stops your babbling by pressing a single finger against your lips, “If I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend, I’m going to be the best fake boyfriend.” He counters, “So, what’s our story?”

“You’ll do it?” You ask.

The smile he shoots you is tiny, but it’s real. “Yeah, princess. I’ll do it.”

You lightly bat his hand away from your mouth and fling your arms around his neck, “Thank you! Thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me! I’ll find some way to repay you, I swear it!”

Keeli laughs quietly and hooks an arm around you, “Don’t worry about it, Princess. But we do need to have matching stories, don’t we?”

Three weeks later, you’re introducing Keeli to your parents and grandparents at a massive resort that you would have never been able to afford if your parents weren’t paying for the both of you.

Surprisingly, they look like they approve of Keeli. 

Of course, how could they not?

You steal another glance at Keeli, and a small smile lifts your lips. He looks amazing in the civilian clothes that you bought him. The reddish brown button-up shirt he’s wearing matches the dress that you’re wearing, and yet he looks so much better than you do.

With the top two buttons undone, and his sleeves rolled up around his elbows, you can’t look at Keeli without blushing like a lovesick schoolgirl. Curse him and his attractive features, and curse you and your humiliating crush on your Captain.

“Is everyone here family, Princess?” Keeli asks as he slides his arm around your waist to tug you against his side.

“Yeah, pretty much. Both mom and dad have over 7 siblings, and all of them have 4 or 5 kids, and all of those kids are married or engaged with kids of their own.”

“Ah,” You lean your head against Keeli’s shoulder, confident that he’ll support you, as he looks around the crowded garden, “So, are you the odd one out in that you’re not married?” He teases.

You huff and elbow his side, “I’m the baby of the cousins. It’s not my fault that all of my cousins are in the 40s.”

Keeli hums his understanding, “If you like, I can fake a proposal on the last day of the reunion.”

“Please don’t.” You reply immediately, already able to feel your face burning, “I don’t want you to have to feel like you need to keep doing stuff like this.”

He stares at you for a moment, his lips quirking up at one corner, as though he had just heard a hilarious joke and was just waiting to fill you in on the punchline.

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it.” He replies, there’s even amusement in his voice.

You shoot him an odd look, and his small smile blossoms into a wide grin. 

“What, Keeli?”

He lightly taps your nose, “One day, you’re going to look back at today and find it hilarious.”

“You can start making sense any second now.” You mutter as you scrunch up your nose.

“Could, but I’m not. Come on, let’s go meet some people.”

Fifteen minutes later, you’re talking to a pair of drunk uncles. How, exactly, they’re already drunk when the bar has only been open for half an hour is beyond you, but you’re slightly more concerned with how this conversation is going.

“You know,” One of the men says, or slurs, “I kinda thought she paid you to pretend to be her boyfriend.”

Keeli’s smile is very polite, “Oh?”

“Yeah, I mean…look at her.” He gestures to all of you, and you scowl, offended.

“I look fine, Uncle.”

“Nah, you don’t. That dress looks awful on you.” Your other uncle says, and you glance down at the dress.

“I…does it?” You ask, with a glance towards Keeli.

“I think you look great.”

“You don’t have to lie to her, boy. She’s hardly a supermodel—”

Keeli cuts them off before they can continue, but the damage has already been done. You can’t seem to stop brushing your hands down the material of your dress, or anxiously touching your hair. 

He ushers you away from the crowds of people, and catches your hands as you reach up to try and adjust your twin buns, “Hey, you look amazing.”

“They’re right though. I’m not—”

Keeli sighs heavily, and the next thing you know his lips are pressed against yours. The kiss starts chaste, but as you reach up to press your hand against his cheek and lean into the kiss, he wraps his arms around you and tugs you closer. 

He breaks the kiss before you want him to and presses his forehead against yours. His dark eyes scan your face and then he grins, “Princess,”

“Hm?”

“I’m going to kiss you again.”

“Yes, please.”

This time, when he kisses you there’s nothing chaste about it as he backs you up so you’re pressed against a tree. One of his hands settles low on your back, his warm fingers playing with the exposed skin of your back. His free hand slides up your side to press against the back of your neck, holding you to him.

This time when he breaks the kiss so the both of you can gasp for breath, he keeps his lips hovering just over yours. “So,” Keeli breathes out, “Princess, about this fake dating thing—” He trails off as he catches your lips with his one more time.

“Perhaps,” You murmur against his lips, “We can adjust?”

“You’re reading my mind, Princess.” Keeli murmurs, “You being my real girlfriend is going to make sleeping in bed next to you so much more enjoyable.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He kisses you again, and the only reason he stops is when someone clears a throat nearby.

“I’m sure the pair of you are having a good time,” Your mother says with a wide grin, “but the family would like to meet your young man, darling.”

Keeli’s forehead falls to your shoulder with an uttered oath in Mando’a and you have to muffle your giggles, “Um…yeah, Mom. We’ll be just a minute.”

“You have five. If you’re not out in five, I’m sending the little ones in with water guns.”

“Threat received,” Keeli replies, his voice muffled by your shoulder, “It won’t be necessary.”

“Good.” You watch your mother leave, and Keeli finally lifts his head from your shoulder, there’s something heated in his gaze and you lightly clutch at the front of his shirt.

“Later,” Keeli promises, “We’ll finish this later.”

“Promise?”

“God himself couldn’t stop me,” Keeli replies.

And you release a breathless giggle, “I’ll hold you to that, Captain.” You lightly brush your lips against his jaw, and then push him a step back. “You ready?”

“For today to be over, absolutely.” He replies, and then he takes your hand, “Come on, mesh’la. Let’s get today over with.”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

@silly-starfish

@lonewolflupe

@maniacalbooper

@rebell-ious

[sansaorgana]

— QUICK LEARNERS

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

SUMMARY — You're sent to Giedi Prime to marry your distant cousin and become the new Na-Baroness. However, your new husband seems to ignore you. You come up with an idea how to gain his attention and you ask one of the Generals from your homeworld to teach you how to wield a blade.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — While writing my fanfic "Forbidden Fruit" I was inspired by the mediterranean and islamic cultures creating the Reader's homeworld. This time I was inspired by my own Slavic culture but as usual – the physical appearance of the Reader is not described. 💘 I really like coming up with all these new planets! Also, I decided it makes sense for the world inspired by the Slavic culture to be related to The Harkonnens, therefore Feyd and Reader are cousins but they're distantly related (as most noble people are, I guess).

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood – the Reader is injured, slight incest (distant cousins), SMUT, oral, hints of breeding kink, Feyd is a bit ooc in my opinion but... so what? he's cute 🤪

WORD COUNT — 7,840

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

QUICK LEARNERS

Your father, The Tsar, worked very hard to make this union happen. Baron Harkonnen had wanted his heir and nephew to marry one of The Emperor’s daughters but your father’s relentless visits, letters and arguments finally worked.

Your family was cousins with The Harkonnen bloodline. You were more used to their culture and you shared similar values. Of course your house was not as important as The Harkonnens. In fact, your planet was under The Harkonnen rule and your father only governed it in their name although his family had been allowed to keep their titles.

Giedi Prime was an industrial planet without any nature which was the opposite of your homeworld. Morana was mostly dark green – a never ending forest full of valuable resources. Sadly, most of them were being transported to Giedi Prime for nearly nothing in return. Your father was determined for The Baron to make it up to your people for all the centuries of colonisation and turn their Grand Duchess into The Harkonnen Baroness.

Your home world was supplying Giedi Prime with important raw materials and fearsome warriors that were known all over the galaxy as ruthless beasts in combat. Growing up in such an environment, you would easily adapt to Giedi Prime even though it lacked the greenery completely. You would make a much better Baroness than any spoiled daughter of The Emperor. Those were your father’s arguments at least.

So, you were sent to Giedi Prime with dozens of heavy wooden chests filled with your most precious belongings. Everything you loved, everything that was defining you – it had to fit in these boxes. You couldn’t take the forests with you nor the rivers, the songs of your people, the smile of your mother, the warmth of the fireplace. All you could take were the dresses and jewels, a few books. And a burden of the realisation how big responsibility had been placed upon your shoulders. To make your parents proud and to become a good na-baroness… and then Baroness. To give heirs.

You knew Feyd-Rautha from all the official ceremonies. You had never talked to him before, he would only greet you with a head nod and a word cousin in his low, raspy voice that was sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. A few times before you had watched him fight in the arena. He was an incredible warrior but his combats were for show which was disappointing for a woman from Morana – a planet known for its art of warfare.

You weren’t scared of him and you weren’t taken aback by his Harkonnen nature nor looks. You were used to The Harkonnens visiting your planet or you visiting theirs with your parents for official events and celebrations. However, you were not pleased with this union either. He didn’t seem to be a pleasant man and you didn’t like the responsibility that came with this marriage.

Your wedding was grand. Every governor and leader of the planet under The Harkonnen rule was invited. Your dress was white, decorated with traditional red embroidery of your people. On your head there was a flower crown made out of flowers that grew on Morana. But seeing all the people around you, you quickly realised it probably was the last time you’d wear something white. No one around was wearing any colour except for black. The only white clothes you could see were the ones of the servants.

The wedding party was a display of power and violence but it wouldn’t make a girl from your planet flinch. You focused on the cake and tried to remember all the advice your mother had given to you regarding your upcoming wedding night.

She had been straightforward with you. A strong Tsarina like her would never hesitate or shy away. She had told you it would be best if you took your husband from behind so you wouldn’t have to look into his face. And she had made it clear that the marriage should be consummated. No matter how much it would hurt.

You observed your new husband with the corner of your eye but he looked the same as his wedding kiss had felt – bored and unimpressed. Cold.

Around midnight he stood up to leave the table without making any announcements. Panicked, you glanced at your new servant girls and they nodded at you. So, you stood up as well and gathered the fabric of your dress to lift it gently and follow him down the corridor.

He walked fast, you could barely catch up. His silence was heavy between you two. After all, you were his wife now – you were supposed to share a life together – but he chose to treat you like air instead.

When the doors leading to his chambers opened, you entered them right after your new husband. That was when he turned around as if he was surprised. He looked you up and down with contempt and you realised that he had not been pleased with this union.

Perhaps because you were not The Emperor’s daughter. Perhaps he wasn’t finding you attractive enough.

“Cousin,” he drawled as usual.

“Can you not call me that anymore?” You sighed.

“Wife,” you swore there was a shadow of a smirk on his face. But he didn’t say anything else and you felt helpless. You didn’t know how to talk to him.

You tried to remember your mother’s words. You weren’t there to have conversations with him.

“Husband,” you nodded your head at him and he watched with tilted head as you approached his huge black bed and bent over.

“What are you doing?” He snorted at you.

You couldn’t understand. You furrowed your brows and turned your head around. His sneering facial expression embarrassed you but you stayed in your position.

“Would you rather take me the other way around? I didn’t expect you to be a romantic,” you commented.

“I do not intend to take you at all,” Feyd shook his head. “I’m going to sleep. You do whatever,” he shrugged his arms and began to undress.

Clumsily, you straightened yourself and smoothed out the wrinkles of your dress. Once he was in his underwear, without a word he got under the cover and ignored you completely.

You watched in shock as he began to drift off to the land of dreams. You had no idea what to do. Not only you had humiliated yourself but also you had failed to consummate the marriage.

You crouched down and picked up all the pieces of clothing he had scattered all over the floor. Like a dutiful wife already, you folded them neatly and put them away on the chair by his desk. Then you removed the flower crown and your dress, thanking all the gods above that it was not a complicated piece because you had no idea how you’d manage to do that without your servants’ help. You tried to be as quiet as possible while doing that, not wanting to wake Feyd up and cause his anger.

Once you were in your linen underdress, you decided to just join him in the huge bed and go to sleep as well. You were laying as far away from him as possible as you didn’t want to bother him. It was no easy task because he decided to sleep right in the middle of it like he had forgotten already that he was married now and had to share.

You didn’t understand the situation you had found yourself in. When the small orb of light by your bedside turned off, you stared at the pitch black room as all your limbs tensed. You could hear Feyd’s soft snores and the distant sounds of your wedding party, the firework splashes of white ink in the night sky. Yet, you – the bride and the new na-baroness – just laid on the edge of the bed, feeling lonely and humiliated.

The weeks passed and you remained Feyd’s wife by name only. You shared your chambers with him but he was always awake before you and in the evening you were often asleep by the time he would join you in bed. There were days when you weren’t seeing each other at all. He was busy with training for his fights but also with fucking his concubines. You had found out about all of them from your servant girls.

The most important ones were three scary cannibalistic harpies. The servants were terrified of them because they could end up as their meal any time. There were also other women in your husband’s life but they were regular pleasure slaves and they did not matter as much. With his harpies he seemed to share some sort of bond.

Of course. Now it made sense. How could you even compare to such creatures? However, you did not even want to. You just hoped Feyd would finally be reminded – by his uncle or the medic – that he had to fulfil his duties and produce an heir.

You felt lonely and rejected. Your duties were not many and you quickly realised that most of them were nothing but a show off – just like your husband’s fights in the arena. It was probably because you were a woman and a new addition to the family. The Baron would never actually put you in charge of anything important.

Your only companions were your servant girls. You grew attached to them but they were no friends. Not because you thought of them as less but because of their timid personality. They were terrified of The Harkonnens and they were often trembling whenever they spotted your annoyance. Such a dynamic could not be a base of any real valuable friendship although your heart was breaking for them.

They had told you that the people of Giedi Prime liked you. You were not like your husband nor his family and you looked different because of the pigment of your skin and your hair. Sometimes, to your new black Harkonnen attire you would add a jewellery or a flower crown from your homeworld. The citizens of Giedi Prime adored the additional splash of colour. You expected Feyd-Rautha to scold you for that but he did not. He seemed not to care at all about you and what you were doing.

You had tried everything to get his attention and to seduce him. You had started to wear more revealing nightgowns to bed but he would ignore you. You had walked in on him taking a bath on purpose – pretending it was an accident. He hadn’t even flinched.

You had been asking him things about Giedi Prime and The Harkonnen history – making a fool of yourself by asking him things you had known already. He would always answer dryly and coldly; often without even sparing you a glance. Then he would go on ignoring you.

You had tried to move closer to him in bed at night. Pretending to be asleep, you had adjusted your body slowly until your arms touched. He had woken up abruptly and moved aside, stealing the blanket.

You nearly gave up but there was one more idea you were thinking of. You wanted to share a hobby with your husband. It could not be sex because he refused to touch you, which made you feel so unattractive that you didn’t even think of flirting with other men to cause his jealousy. His coldness made you feel ugly.

No, his other hobby was the blade. And you sometimes observed his training and they always made you miss your home. On Morana the warriors would train day and night just like him. You had often observed them with your father as he was telling you grand stories. And perhaps you were a lady, but you were your people’s Grand Duchess and you could handle the blade. Or so you had thought.

You found one of the generals of The Harkonnen army who was from your homeworld. He looked different than the rest of them because of his longer, braided hair and tattoos on his face that were your people’s spiritual symbols. However, like most of the important military men from your homeworld, he had been sent to Giedi Prime as a young boy to be trained under The Harkonnens. Such boys were some sort of a tribute in the same way your natural resources were. All those years spent under the black sun had made his natural skin colour a few tones paler. But amongst The Harkonnens he still looked the healthiest.

“General Bohumil,” you approached him one day after watching him train with other soldiers. He was putting his blades away as he raised an eyebrow at you, surprised to see you wandering around this part of the fortress.

“Slava, Grand Duchess (Y/L/N), My Lady Na-Baroness Harkonnen,” he bowed down. You smiled at the way he addressed you as it brought back memories of your homeworld where you were addressed as The Grand Duchess and with the word slava meaning glory as a sign of respect. “What brings you here, My Lady?” He asked.

“I was wondering if you’d find some time for me,” you began, a little nervously as he furrowed his brows. “To train me.”

“Train you, na-baroness?” General Bohumil hesitated. He was looking for the right words not to insult you in any way. “What does your husband think of such an idea, my Lady?”

“I don’t think he cares about what I do at all,” you admitted honestly with a shrug of your arms.

He would never say that but you could see the look in his eyes. You were a spoiled and bored noble lady in his eyes and he’d only waste his precious time on you. However, he was too scared to say no. Your question was not a proposition, it was an order. That was the way of The Harkonnens and that was the way your father ruled on Morana, too.

“Alright, my Lady. I can show you the basics,” he nodded. “We can start tomorrow. But I warn you, you can bruise or hurt yourself,” he added.

“I am aware. Those are natural consequences of a combat, General,” you smiled at him. “I will find you tomorrow,” you nodded and went back to your quarters, very pleased with yourself.

The first week of your trainings – and you had insisted on them to take place every day – General Bohumil was only making you stretch and prepare your muscles for the future extortion. No whining about it could cause him to change his mind. But after the first week you were finally given a blade to hold. It was quite short and light but very swift to move. The handle was wooden with your people’s spiritual symbols engraved on it. It was a traditional blade of the warriors from Morana and it made you feel so proud to be your father’s daughter to wield it. It made you feel as if you were home again.

You were also given a shield-like device that would protect you from hurting yourself or from the General hurting you in an accident. You noticed that he wore one, too, probably expecting you to clumsily wave the blade around and possibly cause some harm with it.

“Repeat the sentences after me, my Lady,” General Bohumil began to show you the most basic moves. You nearly rolled your eyes at how easy they seemed to be but you wanted to be an obedient student and to prove to him that you were not just a bored noble lady. You really wanted to learn.

He corrected your posture and the position of your feet as he lifted your elbow and then he began to show you the same sequence again.

You had many traits that were considered to be positive – it could be seen now, in the way you obediently performed your duties, how you desperately tried to make your marriage work and keep both of the families proud. You cared about your family’s honour, you were aware of the responsibility placed upon you. You would never sabotage your union; you were loyal and proud.

But you also possessed some traits that were considered to be negative – impatience was one of them. You didn’t want to keep repeating the same basic sequence a million times all over again, feeling like a child with a toy sword. You wanted to feel the adrenaline already like your husband when you watched him in combat or the warriors on your planet. Not listening to General Bohumil’s warnings, you started to spice up the sequence with the moves you had only seen in the gladiator arena before.

“My Lady, please, that is too advanced. We will get to it in the right time,” he sighed, trying his best to contain his anger. As a military man he was all about discipline and if you were a common soldier, he would lash out at you, you were sure of that. But you were his Grand Duchess and his Na-Baroness and he couldn’t even scold you. He could only calmly try to explain.

But you wouldn’t impress Feyd with the basic combat moves. You were sure that if he caught you now, he would laugh with contempt. No, you had to be better than that. And you hated to wait.

“This stupid shield,” you turned the device off as General’s eyes widened, “it’s distorting my view,” you whined.

“My Lady, please, turn it back on,” he pleaded. “Your eyes will get used to it after a few weeks of training, I can assure you of that.”

“A few weeks?!” You sneered. “When you talk to me using such long amounts of time, I get discouraged already. You think I’m not good enough to master this art faster than that?”

“It’s not about your personal skills, na-baroness, I assure you. Every man needs time to get better,” he swallowed thickly as he watched you play with the knife in your hand. “Please, turn the shield back on.”

Like a spoiled child, encouraged by the fact that your little hand tricks with the knife came easy to you, you took a step ahead and attacked him. In one swift movement he defended himself as he crossed his knife with yours but you could feel he was not using his full force.

You tried one of the tricks you had seen while observing the fights and you tried to quickly take a step back and attack him once again but straight into his ribcage this time. However, you were not experienced enough to try such a move and the knife clumsily slid through your hand. You hissed out of pain as it sliced through the leather fabric of your pants and through the tender flesh of your thigh.

The General’s eyes widened as he turned his shield device off and approached you quickly. You were in so much pain, you were gritting your teeth but you refused to let out a scream or to sit down. You didn’t want him to see you like this although the tears were already pricking your eyes and you could feel the warm liquid dripping down your leg.

“Na-Baroness!” There was a worry in his voice but he used a scolding tone, not being able to hold himself back anymore.

“Don’t even mention it. I know,” you drawled through gritted teeth. “It’s my fault, I know.”

He nodded his head, relieved that you were not blaming your injury on him.

“You’re hurt, my Lady. Let me escort you to the medical wing,” he insisted.

“No, thank you. I will go there myself,” you told him. “I will be back when it’s healed,” you added and limped out of the door as quickly as your pain allowed you, too.

You wanted to be alone so you could finally start crying out of pain, although you made sure to do it quietly. You were thankful that the medical wing was close to the training section of the fortress for strategic reasons.

Your servant girls had picked you up from the medical wing. They had been looking at you as if you were crazy but they hadn’t dared to say a word. Your thigh was now disinfected and bandaged and your servants helped you to change into a nightgown as they recommended you to go to bed earlier than usual and get rest. They left you alone in your chamber and assured that they would be nearby if you needed them.

But you weren’t sleepy. You felt ashamed and humiliated as you kept overthinking your stupid behaviour. You knew one thing only – you didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to find out about this accident. He would think of you as weak and foolish… and he wouldn’t be wrong.

You were laying on the bed and reading a book, making sure that your leg was covered by both your nightgown and the duvet. When Feyd entered the bedroom – earlier than usual – you started to suspect he had found out about your accident and wanted to see with his own eyes. You pretended not to pay any attention to him but you watched him from the corner of your eye as you struggled to focus on the book. He sat by his desk and sighed while reading some letters that had been placed there in the morning and you realised it was his time to perform his na-baron duties as he was supposed to deal with the paperwork. He hated this.

Knowing that he was already angry at the fact that he had to answer the letters, you were trying not to bother him at all and you controlled your own breath so it wouldn’t be too loud. On the other hand, you had to admit that Feyd-Rautha had never aimed his anger at you… so far. You had known about his nature before and although you were not scared of him, you had expected him to get violent at times. That had never happened, though. 

Sometimes you wished it had. Because at least he’d react anyway to your presence instead of treating you like air.

Deep in your thoughts, you lost your focus and dropped your book with a loud thump sound on the floor. You froze and glanced at your husband’s shoulders. He stiffened and you quickly leaned in to grab the book, forgetting completely about your new injury as the duvet and your nightgown pulled up and revealed your bandage.

Once you straightened your back with the book in your hand, you noticed the exposed thigh and quickly covered it, hoping that Feyd had not seen it. You looked up and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him staring at you intensely.

“What is it?” He asked with squinted eyes.

He talked to you so rarely that you nearly startled at the harsh and unpleasant sound of his raspy voice. You wondered if you’d ever get used to it.

“This? A book, dear husband. Something about the politics,” you chuckled nervously as you waved your hand, playing a fool.

Feyd stood up and approached the bed as you watched with terror in your eyes. He aggressively tossed the duvet aside and your skin got covered with goosebumps. He lifted up the hem of your nightgown and you hated to admit how electrifying his fingertips felt on your thigh. He had never touched you like that before.

“Who hurt you?” He asked after seeing the bandage again. His cold eyes stared into yours with a burning gaze.

“What do you care?” You asked and shrugged your arms. “It’s nothing,” you assured. “An accident.”

“I care,” he assured you but without any delicacy. “As your husband I am responsible for taking care of you and your honour,” he pointed out. “And as my wife you are my property. Whoever raises their hand on you, raises their hand on me and the Baronship,” he added.

“I did it to myself,” you bit on your lower lip and he tilted his head, visibly in disbelief. “If you paid more attention to me, you’d find out more things about me and you’d know by now that I tend to be clumsy sometimes,” you hissed at him and tried to cover your thigh again but he kept his hand there.

“I do pay attention to you,” he stated. “I observe you. I know when you’re lying,” he clenched his jaw. “Why are you defending the person who hurt you?”

“I’m not lying,” you protested.

“But you’re hiding something from me,” Feyd was relentless.

“Then we are only fair,” you put the book down as you looked at him angrily. “Your whole life is a secret kept away from me. Can’t I have mine?”

“Women on Giedi Prime do not have the same freedom as women on your planet do,” your husband reminded you. “A wife belongs to her husband in a way he will never belong to her.”

“What a relief then that I am not your wife,” you raised an eyebrow and he pursed his lips as he gave you a questioning look. “Because you have not consummated the union and refused so far to perform your duty and secure our bloodline.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Feyd snorted and looked away. “Stupid woman.”

“I do realise I am a disappointment to you. I am not one of the Imperial Princesses and I am not as interesting as your concubines. Not important enough, not attractive enough,” you decided to finally take your chance and tell him everything you had been feeling lately since it was the first opportunity to have some sort of conversation with your husband. He still refused to lay his eyes on you again. “I feel lonely, abandoned and rejected. Homesick. I want to be a good wife. I want to be a good na-baroness. But you’re not even giving me a chance. Out of boredom, I asked one of the generals to teach me how to fight and I hurt myself during training. Yes, it was pathetic of me. Go on, laugh. Make fun of me,” you encouraged him ironically. “At least it will be the very first reaction from you given to me in a long time.”

“Stop it! Stop,” Feyd-Rautha barked at you as he stood up and turned his back on you. He clutched his hands on the chair by his desk.

“Does the sound of my voice repulse you, too?” You asked, angrily. Now, when you finally let all these things out, you didn’t want to stop.

“You don’t understand!” He exclaimed and turned around to look at you with so much intensity that you curled up on the bed, feeling small and vulnerable. After all, he was a strong warrior and you were only a wounded prey. Like one of the rabbits in the forests on Morana, hunted by the hound dogs.

“Then explain it to me,” you whispered. “You owe me that at least.”

“I hurt everything I touch,” Feyd’s confession was sudden and it shocked you both. After a long while of silence between you two, he continued. “Just like him. It’s what this whole family is like.”

“I thought you liked to hurt,” you pointed out.

“Not you,” he answered nearly inaudibly. It was difficult for him to confess those things. You blinked a few times in disbelief.

“Why not me?” You asked, carefully.

“You’re supposed to be my wife. But I… I don’t know how to be a husband,” he looked at you again. You could swear that his sickly pale cheeks flushed slightly. “I was never… taught,” he explained.

“I didn’t expect you to be,” you admitted. “I knew life with you would be difficult. I knew you enough to know that. But nothing could prepare me for being… ignored. Completely,” you made your own confession as your heart pounded in your chest. You moved closer to him and reached your hands out, taking his gently and he didn’t even flinch. He just allowed it to happen, so you squeezed his cold fingers. “I am sorry I am not the wife you wanted.”

“It is not about that,” Feyd looked into your eyes. “And I do not ignore you. I let you be here. Sleep in my bed.”

“Oh, I didn’t know that was already a sign of affection,” you rolled your eyes.

“Protection,” he fixed you. “I don’t trust anyone here. They all work for my uncle,” he lowered his voice. “And as my wife, you are under my protection. If you want to learn how to fight,” he sighed and let go of your hands to sit on the edge of the bed again and reveal your bandaged thigh, “although I do not approve of that, from now on, it will be me training you. Do you understand? I don’t want any other man to teach you. I would never let this happen,” his fingertips brushed on your bandage and you felt a shiver go down your spine.

“I understand,” you nodded, trying not to smile too widely. Not exactly how you had imagined it but your plan to get your husband’s attention seemed to be working.

Feyd looked at your face again as his hand caressed your hair and cheek. You got startled at that at first but then you relaxed under his touch.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know how to act around… a wife,” he admitted. “All I know is that she should not be treated like a common concubine.”

“So that is why you prefer to be around them. Because at least you know what to do,” you pointed out and he nodded. “You could have told me that.”

He laughed at your words, grinning with that black smile of his. It made you chuckle, too, as you realised how stupid your words were.

“That’s right. The Harkonnens don’t talk about their feelings,” you guessed.

“Our what?” Feyd squinted his eyes at you as his face became serious again. “I don’t know anything about the arrangement between your father and my uncle. But the way you acted on our first night together, it made me realise you are not here by your own will. It brings me pleasure when my concubines fear me but I do not wish for my wife to be scared.”

“I’m not scared of you, Feyd-Rautha,” you assured him. “I have never been.”

He looked a little surprised by your confession.

“You admired me then,” he seemed to be proud of himself.

“I wouldn’t put it that way,” you cooled down his enthusiasm. “You annoyed me,” you explained and he gave you a scolding look. However, he was more disappointed than angry. “You’re a spoiled Harkonnen brat.”

“Look who’s talking. Like you’re not a spoiled little noble lady who decided she wants to learn how to wield a knife out of boredom,” he pointed out.

“I know, I do not deny. Perhaps we are not a bad match at all,” you giggled and his eyes sparkled again. “I’m not used to warriors cheating in the arena, you know.”

“He says it is not the time yet to show my real abilities,” Feyd explained himself quickly, a little embarrassed that you pointed out his cheating. Honour was important to him and it was his weak spot.

“In the bedroom as well?” You raised an eyebrow, surprising your own self with your boldness. “Perhaps you have not been taught about being a husband but you surely know what your main duty is.”

“You’re eager,” he smirked.

“I am not a concubine but I am a woman like they are. I have my own needs and desires. You do not make it easy, ignoring me after coming to bed late at night, smelling like fresh sweat, blood and leather,” you pointed out.

“I fuck like I fight,” he warned you as his pupils darkened. His face was now so close to yours that you felt his hot breath on your mouth and his eyelashes tickled your cheeks.

“Is that a promise?” You whispered.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he snorted at you and you felt your cheeks heating up.

“You’re right. You have to show me,” you teased.

“No,” he moved back suddenly and you felt a sharp pain in your heart. He was so close… you nearly had him. “I don’t trust myself around you,” he admitted. “You will show me,” he told you as you raised your eyebrow.

“Me?” You swallowed thickly as his words.

“I’m yours,” he said. “Do whatever you wish with me. If a child is what you so badly want, to make your parents happy, to make my uncle happy,” he explained with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “then go on, explore, have fun. At your own pace.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as you realised that he was inviting you to initiate an intimacy between you two. You panicked as you had never expected that he’d want you to take a lead in the bedroom.

“I do not want to have a child to make anyone happy,” you fixed him. “Anyone but me. I want to secure our position on Giedi Prime,” you explained.

“So dutiful,” Feyd smirked.

“We share some values, dear husband,” you nodded and moved closer to him with a soft hiss as your injury reminded you of its presence.

“Easy, wife,” he watched you and you smirked as you put your arms around his neck.

“Are you sure you’re not doing it because you’re avoiding the paperwork?” You asked and pointed at the desk with your chin. Feyd sighed and you giggled. “I knew it,” you bit on your lower lip and sat astride him.

The first thing you did was to take off his shirt. You had observed his body many times before and the sight of his hard muscles had been the most delightful one. You tossed the shirt aside and gasped softly at your husband’s smooth pale skin. You allowed your fingertips to explore every crease, every bump, every vein and every tendon. Carefully, you leaned in and breathed in his scent as your lips softly brushed his shoulder.

His body was a work of art. Daily workouts and trainings were working miracles. He was strong and flexible. The sight alone was enough to make you feel hot. You began to feel the wetness between your legs as you allowed your fingertips to explore the upper part of his body. You tangled your legs behind his waist and moved your hands to his back, feeling the bumpy skin full of thin scars scattered all over. You had noticed them before but only now you gained the courage to ask him about them.

“Was it him?” You asked and Feyd nodded, carefully watching your reaction. But you didn’t flinch or make a disgusted face. You were sad about it. The scars were old. He had to be a young and scared boy once, tortured by his uncle to turn him into the ruthless killing machine he was now.

You leaned in to place a soft kiss upon his cheek.

“Turn around,” you asked and he looked unsure. “You said I could explore and play. I want you to turn around,” you repeated and he nodded, hesitantly, before moving away softly, making sure he wouldn’t hurt your injured thigh. Then he turned his back on you and looked behind his shoulder to see what you were about to do.

You put your hands around his waist and moved closer, still caressing the hard muscles of his abdomen, you leaned in and left a trail of soft kisses up and down his scarred back. From the short conversation you managed to have with your husband you quickly realised that what Feyd-Rautha had never known in his life was tenderness. You wanted to be the first and only person to give it to him. You were his wife and that was your job.

He flinched at the feeling of your soft lips upon his scars but then he relaxed. You lowered the hands resting on his muscular chest and put them on his hips as you shyly hesitated for a while before finally placing one of your palms on his crotch. Innocently peppering his back with delicate kisses, your hand started to massage his bulge through the fabric of his pants. He groaned softly and you froze.

“Don’t stop,” he scolded you.

“Don’t talk to me like that,” you took the hand away and moved back. “You told me I could do it at my own pace. I am not a concubine to order me around,” you reminded him and he turned around to face you again, surprised by your tone. “I am not a shy mouse, Feyd-Rautha. You seem to be aware that women on Morana have more rights. I was raised by a strong Tsarina.”

“Forgive me, I am still learning,” he answered with an amount of sincerity that left you speechless for a moment. As if he really tried to be a good husband.

“It’s quite alright,” you caressed his shoulder. “Lay down for me?” You encouraged and he nodded, quietly.

Feyd moved up on the bed to rest his head on the pillow and you crouched down, waiting for him to be on display for your needy hands. The fact that this terrifying warrior that nearly everyone feared seemed to be so obedient for you just because you were his wife was making you even more and more aroused.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmured as you caressed his chest again. “I mean it.”

“So are you,” he confessed as he looked up at you and you shyly lowered your gaze. “I mean it,” he repeated your words.

“I haven’t felt very beautiful lately,” you admitted.

“I didn’t know,” he confessed.

You didn’t want to talk about it now. You lowered yourself to his neck and sucked on the soft skin only to soothe it with a kiss right after. You went down with your kisses, making sure to leave it upon every inch of his torso before you finally found yourself facing his crotch. His pants looked very tight at the moment. Too tight.

Shyly but curiously, you unbuttoned them and pulled them down with his underwear, watching his hard cock twitching at the feeling of your hot breath. His size impressed you but also made you anxious. You helped Feyd to get rid of his clothes completely and tossed them on the floor before leaning in again.

You grabbed his length carefully as he hissed out of pleasure, trying not to think of all the concubines he had before you – concubines who knew how to please him way better than you did. You hesitated before placing a delicate kiss on the tip.

“Be patient with me, I am only learning,” you looked up, giving him puppy eyes. He was looking down at you with darkened pupils and haze in his gaze.

“Have fun down there,” he growled and threw his head back. You giggled and went back to the soft kisses and kitten licks as your hand pumped his length.

“I’m glad you didn’t take me on our wedding night,” you admitted. “This is so much more fun,” you squeezed his tip and he bucked his hip with a grunt as you watched the black precum leaking out.

You had been educated enough by your mother, servants, medics and all the explicit books you could find in the library. You smirked and licked him clean before lowering your head and taking him as far down your throat as you were able to. You kept yourself steady by holding his muscular thighs but when you felt his cock twitching a little, you let go quickly; your drool mixed with his thick black precum leaked down your chin. Feyd looked up with an annoyed expression on his face but he didn’t say anything this time.

“We can have more fun once I’m expecting. Now we can’t waste any of that, can we?” You tilted your head and pulled your nightgown up to your hips before moving up and lining his cock with your glistening pussy. You swallowed thickly at the sight of how hard and big he was.

“Take your time,” Feyd put his hands on your hips. “It’s a lot to take,” he bragged.

“Oh, so you think I can’t handle it?” You raised an eyebrow.

Just like when it came to wielding a blade, you didn’t like being told that you couldn’t handle something. You were an impatient lady.

“I am your wife,” you reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself. The feeling of his swollen tip brushing your clit made you shiver but you bravely kept a poker face on. “I was made to take your cock and carry your children,” you added. “No matter how big it is, I’m going to take it.”

Feyd winked at you and your heart skipped a beat at that. He could be adorable at times, you had to admit. It made you happy that you could finally experience this side of him. It was worth all the pain your injury had been causing you.

You lowered yourself some more, digging your fingers into his shoulders as he tightened the squeeze on your hips, surely bruising them, too. You hissed and shut your eyes as you threw your head back.

The pain mixed with pleasure, the overwhelming fulfilment with an endless desire to feel him even deeper, to fill you even further, to make you swell and heavy with his children. When you finally sat fully on his cock, you let out a moan of his name as your walls twitched and squeezed him.

“Easy, wife, take your time,” he reminded you. His hands were keeping you down, not letting you move for a while. He was giving you time to adjust to his size and you opened your eyes to look at him below you. You gasped at the admiration on his face. All those weeks of feeling unattractive suddenly vanished from your memory.

You were a daughter of your planet. Morana was known for its fertile soil like you would be known for bearing his heirs. You were his goddess at that moment but you didn’t feel the need to be cruel towards your subject.

“I want you closer,” you breathed out and he nodded, sitting up very carefully, making sure not to hurt you. Once his back rested on the pillow behind him, you clinged to his chest and joined your lips with his in a kiss as your hips began to move slowly.

Feyd’s hands moved your hips and helped you to find the right pace and rhythm. Soon enough you were bouncing on that big cock with ease that came with desire. Feeling that you didn’t require so much of his help anymore, one of your husband’s hands moved down and rested on your bandage. His touch was unusually gentle and you moaned into his mouth, not breaking the hungry kiss even for a second.

After all those weeks of being left abandoned and touch starved, you just wanted to devour him. Nothing mattered; certainly not your wound, not the sweat, not the exhaustion. Your only goal was to chase the high that was coming.

Feeling that your movements became chaotic, Feyd cupped your face and groaned into your mouth as his own hips picked up the pace, taking control over you. You trembled and let out muffled cries of pleasure as he rutted roughly inside of you through your orgasm. Not long after you felt his thick black cum spilling deep inside of you as both of your bodies relaxed.

You broke the kiss and tried to catch your breath. Your husband wiped all the tears off of your cheeks and laid your head on his shoulder gently. You hugged his chest and cuddled him like that in silence.

“Do you remember what you promised?” He asked and you furrowed your brows. “That next time you want to train, you’re coming to me.”

“Yes,” you smiled to yourself. “But I am only learning,” you added, shyly. “I don’t want you to laugh at me.”

“If you’re a quick learner with the blade like you are in the bedroom, then you will soon laugh at me,” he assured you and caressed your back as you giggled into the crook of his neck.

“You’re a quick learner, too, Feyd-Rautha,” you looked up as he looked down, confused. “How to be a husband, I mean,” you explained.

You watched the servant girls painting your husband’s beautiful body with the black war paint as you caressed your swollen bump through the fabric of your dress. They finished their job and took a few steps back with their heads kept low. One of them handed you the bowl of the black liquid and you approached him as he smiled.

You dipped your finger in the paint and drew one of the symbols of your people on his chest. He looked down, questioningly.

“And what does this one mean?” He asked.

“It ensures good favours of the gods and victory in battle,” you explained softly.

“You know that he hates it when you do that,” Feyd reminded you. Baron Harkonnen would prefer you to become a Harkonnen and give up your old ways completely instead of teaching Feyd more about your culture.

“I know,” you looked up. “That’s why I do that.”

In the beginning you had been indifferent to his uncle but the more you found out about him and the damage he had done to your husband, the more you hated him.

Feyd nodded at you and leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead.

“Na-Baron, five minutes,” one of the servants reminded him of the time left.

“I will bring you the hearts of my enemies,” he cupped your face as he looked deep into your eyes while making a promise.

“I have only one enemy,” you reminded him, “and he is not in the arena today.”

Feyd nodded quietly. He put his hand on your swollen belly and caressed it.

“Take care of your mother for me for a while,” he said and you chuckled with an eye-roll.

You watched him put the last pieces of clothes and take his blades. You couldn’t wait for the day when he’d become The Baron and he wouldn’t have to do it anymore. Even though the fights were fixed, you still feared for his life. And to think you had used to find this practice unhonourable. Now you were glad that his combats were cheated.

“Slava, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you blessed him.

He turned his head around for the last time to wink at you playfully and give you his black grin.

“I’ll be right back.”

MASTERLIST

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy 7: The Finale

Label mature 18+

Honor & Heir

Summary

Feyd starts a war on Arrakis to gain final control over the Spice fields. He wants to finally free its massive profits to House Harkonnen and become the wealthiest family in the galaxy for you and his heir.

During your final month of pregnancy you and Feyd are summoned to the Emperors palace on the planet Kaitain by decree. Feyd is upset at any inconveniences to you with his unborn during this fragile time.

You reunite with your Reverend Mother in the palatial gardens and a fated decision must be made. The stress of the decision is so great you go into labor. For Feyd his world stops. He drops all of his responsibilities with the Emperor to be by your side.

Starts off Princess treatment romantic Ends with Feyds reign & birth of your child

⚠️Hard Core Smut⚠️

simultaneous self pleasure•size kink•fingering •handjob•forced orgasms•sex while sleeping•sex while injured•face sitting• submission •cum eating•thigh pinning• manhandling • position switching • body worship•multiple orgasms

⚔️ Feyd Fantasy Series Master List⚔️

Part 1•Part 2•Part 3•Part 4•Part 5•Part 6•Part 7 🗡️ Feyd Fantasy Chapter 1-6 Recap ⚔️Feyd Fantasy Master List ⚔️ 📖 All Genre Masterlist

⏳Extreme Dune Inaccuracies!⌛️ Based on the film Dune Part 2 (Feyd supremacy timeline)

💀 Trigger warnings dark themes: graphic death(s)

⚔️Final Fic Requests ⚔️ -Feyd gentle with you -Feyd Adoring you -Feyd forgoes his pleasure for your own -Faceriding Feyd -More arousal fluid! -Feyd gives you the princess treatment -Bene Gesserit kidnapping plot -Feyd as a father

This series was so fun to make I want to personally thank each and every one of you!! The last chapter is a novel in itself please enjoy this epic finale 🙏🏻

Special thank you to my proofreader @faegoddessog my smut consultant @burnthheparaphilia and my affection consultant @magicovento thank you for jumping on this wild ride with me I am so appreciative of everything you did to improve the series ⚔️

More Gifs Loading…

Honor & Heir

You awaken on the Harkonnen palatial space craft traveling to Arrakis. You are in the beautifully decorated master suite on the giant bed. Resting across from you is Feyd sleeping peacefully in the black silk sheets.

You are enamored with his pale skin at this point especially in contrast with any dark color to enhance it.

You stroke your hand along his handsome face, he is completely out. It is becoming harder and harder for him to awaken in the mornings. Every time you use your ability to mentally inflict him with pain to orgasm it is essentially stealing his life force. He needs time to recover.

You have become infatuated with his pleasure sending severe signals of pain to his temple during sex to make him cum on your command. The way his back arcs as you watch the intensity increase in his yearning eyes always makes you orgasm as well.

During the evening he gave you a tour of the Harkonnen palatial space craft. When he saw you were impressed he could no longer contain his urges for you. As soon as he showed you the elaborately decorated master suite and saw the bed he wanted to claim you on it.

His hands slowly stripped your gown from your body as his lips ambushed your mouth. “I need to be inside of you” he panted staring into your eyes. You readily agreed and he kneeled before you pulling your gown and panties down as you stepped out of them.

“Have you ever fucked on a spacecraft Baroness?” He asked looking up at you with a knowing grin as you shook your head no. He picked you up in his strong arms bracing his hands beneath your thighs and kissed you sensually as he carried you to the black silk bed laying you down.

You rested back on your elbows to watch him stand from you and undress. He removed his regal top first revealing his perfectly chiseled physique.

His muscular chest and abs we’re on prominent display as his strong arms flung his tunic. When his fingers unclasped his pants you watched how his erect cock with his pink tip swayed as he stepped out of them.

Once his pale muscular body was naked he climbed over yours. His long thick cock dragged and touched against your thighs as he took his time pressing passionate kisses across your neck. He held your nape making you tilt your head back to gain more access to your throat for his wanting mouth. He sucked love marks across the entire front.

Once he had finished his trail of bruises he softly whispered against your ear “What would you like Baroness, how would you like me to please you?” it sent chills all over your body that he would let you decide.

His hand trailed down your abdomen resting at your core as he kissed your neck awaiting your instructions.

You had snuck into his kink cabinet before the trip and brought the arousal fluid. You knew he would be preoccupied on Arrakis and planned to use it to pleasure yourself while he was away.

Now when he offers himself for your desire you want him to use it on you instead . “In my things I have brought the arousal fluid, I want it Feyd” you say looking into his eyes. A smile forms on his lips as he helps you to get up. “If you have kept it hidden until now, did you plan to use it without me?” He questions as he spanks you before you leave his proximity. His dominance rising that you should ever be satisfied without him.

You smile shyly as you stand back in front of him with the vial. “Yes I planned to use it on myself” you admit. He rests back on his elbows with his muscular thighs spread apart, the size of his erect cock intimidates you. He gazes up to you with a deviant look in his eyes. “Show me” he says with extreme interest wanting to know how you pleasure yourself. It makes your heart skip a beat.

You become timid as his eyes look over you with such lust. You know once the fluid touches your folds you will be overcome with the need to pleasure yourself and will no longer by shy.

You apply a liberal amount to your fingertips and set the vail aside. As you reach between your thighs he mirrors your movements reaching his hand to take a firm hold of his cock. A small sound of pleasure escaped your lips. He will make you watch him as you do the same.

He tilts his head to the side studying your movements to match his own. You rub the fluid onto your entrance swirling your fingertips through your folds and letting out a breath.

The arousal fluid begins working instantly as the blood rushes to your core making your folds begin to pulse. With your clit and entrance throbbing you slip your fingers inside of yourself and let out a pleasurable gasp. Your eyes close as you enjoy the immeasurable feeling of calming the dull ache forming inside with your fingers.

Feyd begins to stroke off his cock eyes fixated on your hand between your legs. You begin making light sounds of pleasure and he pumps his shaft faster on his cock.

Your fingers become slippery from your over arousal and you try to reach deeper and pull down harder. You want to satisfy the dull ache increasing within but you can no longer gratify it, you need Feyd.

Your eyes open and gaze down at his changed condition. His hand is working feverishly on his shaft slicked with spit. His abs are flexing as he pants heavily in pleasure looking at you with an insatiable desire for sex in his eyes.

“I need you” you plead to him as you withdraw your fingers. He is on his feet and immediately claims you. His hand goes to your waist holding you steady and he plunges his two fingers deeply inside you.

You cry out from the pleasure of his larger fingers as they push through your tight walls. You clutch his shoulder with one hand and reach your wet fingers to his wrap around his cock with the other. He breathes a heavy sigh against your ear as you glide your fist around his shaft.

As you use each other for sexual gratification you reach your peak. His fingers are no longer enough, the arousal fluid has made you insatiable “Feyd I need you more please take me.” you beg him. He withdraws his fingers and lifts you onto his chest carrying you to the bed and forcing you down on your front.

He knows the arousal fluid makes you crave sex as he does, ruthlessly.

As he spreads your thighs apart you grip the sheets. When he presses his throbbing tip to your entrance you tense your body in preparation for his large size. He spanks you then and you cry out in shock “you want this cock and yet you tense?” he spanks you again on the same cheek shocking your body and making you moan “give yourself to me” he commands. You nod laying your head to the bed and relax your body.

He holds his hand firm on your lower back and pushes his large cock head inside of you followed by his thick shaft. You moan against the sheets from the overwhelming sensation of his size. He spanks you again to feel you clench on him “You were …made for ..me ..-Baroness. You are so tight …-on my cock… it drives me insane.” He pants out as he slowly rocks you on his length getting you used to his size.

As he increases his pace his thrusts become violent. He begins pounding you against the mattress splitting you open between your legs. You make small pathetic whimpers as your eyes roll up feeling the deepest part of your core completely satisfied.

He spanks you twice and you clench on him hard as you moan. “I want those pretty sounds Baroness” he commands. You begin to moan as he tucks his hands under your hips lifting them up and pulling you back to him on your knees with your chest to the bed.

He grips his hands around your hip bones and impales you onto his large cock. Your high pitched moans fill the air.

He impales you again and again pausing on the each of each thrust. When he feels the way your walls begin fluttering against his cock he knows you will cum.

He spanks you as he begins clapping his hips into you repeatedly and your body tenses overwhelmed with pleasure. You scream out yes in unending praise for him as you orgasm.

He pulls back his hips to withdraw from you and quickly grabs your waist. He easily flips you over to face him and plunges his large cock back in. “Feyd Rautha!” you moan out as your eyes gently roll back. Your body rocks violently from his thrusts.

“Make me cum!” He yells as his strong pace falters, his orgasm is imminent . You place your finger tips to his temple and inflict him with pain at the highest intensity making his body go rigid. He cries out in pleasure as he instantly cums filling your core with warmth painting your walls with his seed.

You release your fingertips and he regains control of his body almost collapsing on top of you. He breathes heavily as he looks down at you with a psychotic look in his eyes “I want more “ he says.

You give him what he desires and his orgasms increase with intensity. He makes depraved sounds as his cock pulses with no sperm left to give. With the arousal fluid working in your core you keep his pace.

On his fifth orgasm as you release him from pain he pants above you staring into your eyes mystified. You knew he can not handle another even though he wanted to.

With all his of his energy drained you collect him in your arms making him rest down on you. As you caress his head he fell into a deep sleep on top of you without withdrawing his cock.

In the morning when he doesn’t awaken after your gentle touches, you softly kiss his forehead and allow him rest. You plan to cease using your ability on him until he is fully restored.

Beginning your day you use the decontamination chamber,cleanse your mouth and face, then get dressed to eat breakfast in the dining room of the spaceship.

You walk through the large craft finding it eerily empty and cold. Once you locate the dining room there is a servant who attends to you and brings your meal. As you eat she informs you that one hour remains until you arrive on Arrakis.

When you finish you walk back to the master suite to inform Feyd. You place your hand in the designated finger print reader for the master suite door.

It registers your identity and the doors slide open allowing you inside. You find Feyd in the master bedroom. By this time he is awake and smiles as you enter the room.

He is putting the finishing touches on his gear dressed head to toe in his Harkonnen combat armor for war. You kiss his waiting lips.

“Did you sleep well?” he ask pushing his hand into his fingerless combat glove.” You smile enamored looking at him, eyeing his blades and how dangerously handsome he looks in his armor. Your attention finally returns to his handsome face.

“Yes I slept well and you?” You pry playfully because he could not even awaken. “I dreamt of you full and round with our unborn “ he says facing you smiling and placing his fingertips on your abdomen .”I felt complete“ He says as he gently pulls you close.

His words stir your passion for him and he holds you in his arms keeping you in his space as his eyes wander your face in the intimate moment.

”When I destroy the Fremen it will make us the wealthiest family in the galaxy. What would you like to do then?” He asks bringing one hand to softly hold the nape of your neck while caressing your jaw with his thumb.

Your heart swells realizing how powerful he could become “I would want you to be emperor.” You admit gazing up into his eyes. He traces his fingertips along your jawline to your chin caressing it affectionately with his thumb “So be it“ he says smiling back at you with his hypnotic blue eyes gazing into yours.

Through the small master suite window behind you he can see the glowing orange planet of Arrakis approaching in the distance.

“Come I want to show you something” he says and takes your hand. He leads you through the ship to the large and ornately decorated lounge. He brings you to stand in front of the floor to ceiling viewing windows.

Turning you to face them he wraps his arms around you to gaze at the planet together. At first you are only looking back to his face admiring him as he holds you in his embrace. You place your hands over his as he holds your close.

When you finally look out of the window a gasp escapes your lips. You are approaching the planet so quickly the enormity of the glowing orange world obscures the entire view of the window. It is an awe inspiring sight to behold.

Small bursts of light begin surrounding the ship until it sets ablaze glowing in flames across the window. You tightly grip Feyds hands frightened. He smiles pulling your closer against him as he kisses your ear “Don’t worry we are only entering the atmosphere” he says gently.

He admires how your eyes search over the landscape of his second planet once the atmosphere is breeched. He has fallen for you entirely he will give you everything, anything for his Baroness. You are his world.

The ship descends above an enormous palace structure built into a rocky mountain scape.

A heavy thud resounds the craft as it lands on its destination and the engines fade to silence.

Servants enter the lounge with two of Feyds advisors with your Doulah from Giedi Prime. They escort you to the exit of the craft.

As you descend the gangway the sweltering heat consumes you both. You squint your eyes from the brightness of the planets sun as you walk under a structured awning lined with guards into the cool depths of the palace.

Once inside Feyds assigned Menant greets him with a bow. “Welcome to Arrakis Baron Feyd Rautha your brother awaits you in the greeting hall. Baroness I hope you will find Palace Arrakeen to your liking. There are two female servants awaiting you in your chambers should you need anything during your time of greatest fragility.” You slowly understand his words they are concerned for your pregnancy.

Even though you have your doulah there are two more servants to attend to you. Feyd smiles at you realizing you haven’t even noticed the assassins trailing you for your protection from the ship yet. You are his top priority here. “Come let’s go see Rabban” he says taking your hand.

You are escorted to the greeting hall. As you walk through the palace everything is ancient sandstone with large pillars and supports. There are hand carved etchings on every wall showing the deep rooted history of the planet. Beige is the prominent color of every furnishing and decoration.

You arrive to the greeting hall and as the large doors open Rabban is already walking down the room to greet you “Brother!” He exclaims to Feyd. Rabban is dressed very casually in a simple black silk tunic. He looks relaxed and carefree as if he is not even in the midst of a planetary war.

Arrakis was Rabbans retreat away from the Baron he has the palace set up to his liking and with his uncles passing each day he has become more goal oriented to impress the new Baron, his younger brother.

Rabban bows to Feyd and smiles at you. “The colors of Geidi prime suit you well Baroness ” he says noticing you fully dress in black now to match Feyd. You smile and simply nod.

“I have much to share with you Baron Feyd Rautha” Rabban chides his brother who tries to disguise his pride at the new title. “Come let’s all eat the meal I have had prepared for you with the delicacies of Arrakis.” Rabban says excitedly.

You follow him to the dining hall. The room is very large with vaulted ceilings, yet very beige and minimalist. There is a huge scale rug the length of the table and sun protecting the long windows which let light inside. You sit to Feyds left at the sand stone table in a hovering chair.

The meal is placed in front of you. Dried fruits, roasted meats, cheeses, and seeds. You are intrigued by dessert food.

As you eat Rabban and Feyd discuss the ongoing war efforts with his two advisors.

“When you ordered the annihilation of the Fremen I knew it would be a difficult war. We keep them at bay but they return with more forces like rats! If we find their strongholds in the north we can finally subdue them and continue south. I have much to discuss with your calculated mind brother.” Rabban conveys as he eats

Feyd nods and reaches for your hand which you hold as they continue to speak on the matter. He traces his thumb across your knuckles as he discusses war strategies. He is so resolute and cunning as he speaks it makes you desire him.

After lunch Feyd bids you farewell with a kiss on the lips and leaves you with your servants. He heads to the war room infatuated with what he has planned over lunch with Rabban. A surprise attack on the Fremen this very evening.

In the center of the war room is a table which projects the live locations of all Harkonnen war crafts near estimated Fremen strongholds. The military strategist give Feyd the records he requested of the heaviest attacks on the harvesters and uses them to point where the Harkonnen war vessels should attack.

They wait and watch as the crafts shoot live rounds into pinpointed locations. Next they order the ground troops to search the hidden cavernous structures during the cool of the night after the destruction.

They locate several more hide outs annihilating every being within. The Harkonnen ground troops then signal the war crafts to completely destroy the structures knowing far more are hidden beneath.

The collapsing rubble kills thousands more who hid deeper inside. The unsuspecting Fremen who planned to attack at day break when the Harkonnens were weaker and more susceptible to the climate are thwarted.

The Harkonnen destruction sets the desert ablaze glowing with fires that fill the night sky of billowing smoke and the cries of the few scattered survivors who plan to retaliate with their last dying breath.

It is the early hours before sunrise when Feyd finally returns to you in the palace bedroom. He will be leading a charge in the morning to dispatch the remaining survivors in the rubble of destruction from the hours of raids.

He wants to ensure first hand he has taken the north from the Fremen for good.

After he strips of his armor he uses the decontamination chamber. He tilts his head up as the water sprays over him smiling that he has done what his uncle could not. Free the north to harvest spice at will. He has even crueler intentions set for those tomorrow that oppose his reign on this planet. After the hot air dries him he walks through the darkened grand room naked.

He climbs into bed with you and rests his hand on your hip. Feeling you safe finally calms his thoughts of war and bloodlust. He pulls you to him and tries to fall asleep.

After several moments shifting with his eyes closed he is unable to. The nights on Arrakis are too hot for his body. He is used to the colder climate on Giedi Prime. He lays closer to you and begins caressing your waist to distract himself. It makes him desire you and perhaps he thinks once physically satisfied he can sleep in the heat of the desert night.

You lay with your back to him as he slips his fingers over your neck to clear your hair from your shoulder. His lips make contact with your skin as he inhales your scent. He plants soft kisses but you do not sir.

He brings his hand over the front of your core sneaking his fingers between your folds and swirling them against your clit. His cock begins pressing hard against your thighs but you still do not move sleeping soundly. He decides then to use you gently enough for his pleasure without disturbing your rest.

He sucks his fingers and pushes them into your entrance as he lays behind you. Feeling the heat inside of you hardens his cock solid. He works his fingers slowly until you become wet for him. He aims his cock to your folds and presses into you as slowly.

His heart rate increases as he feels the tightness of your walls take each inch of his cock. He finally settles you on his base and lets out a breath of pleasure. He pushes his cock into you deeply to feel the friction of your walls without awakening you. He concentrates to remain himself and stay at such a slow pace.

When you finally awaken and Feyd is already thrusting between your legs making you begin panting and moaning shocked into arousal at already being penetrated.

Your brain strives to catch up with your body as your heart beats wildly. You hear his heavy grunts behind you as his hips pound against your thighs. He works his thrusts holding your waist to him keeping you steady on his cock.

He grins at having to last a little longer now that you are awake to make you cum with him. He cups your breast pinching and pulling the nipple that makes you cry out for him as you clench on his length.

You moan his name as he thrusts into you harder and he knows you will cum. He brings his hand to your clit slipping his fingers over the wet nub to make you orgasm. “Feyd I’m going to cum” you moan out. “Cum for me” he commands. His lips press your neck sucking more love mark into your flesh.

Your back arcs as you orgasm and he flicks your clit faster with his fingers as he paints your walls with his cum. His head falls back and you hear him groaning in pleasure at the euphoric feeling of your walls milking his cock. He slows his thrusts to a stop when he is empty and you both pant as you come down.

You suddenly smile as you laugh in the darkened room “Why didn’t you awaken me?” You ask as he withdraws his cock from your body. “I couldn’t sleep and you were resting so soundly.” He admits.

You turn over to face him. The room is dimly lit with moonlight but you can see him smiling in satisfaction. His body is glistening in sweat and he is still panting. You press your hand to his forehead and his chest feeling he is hot all over.

You sit up and pull the sheets from him. You eye his body the way he is still labored breathing. “Feyd It is too hot for you here.” you discern getting up from the bed to help him cool down.

Though the planet is scarce with water the Arrakeen palace rests on an aquifer, structured above its cavernous system of fresh water.

You run a bath for Feyd in the sand stone basin. You call to him when it has filled. As he rests in the cool water you bring a cloth and soak it to pat on his neck and chest before placing it on his forehead. He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand to place a kiss there as he looks into your eyes.

He has never been cared for in this way and his eyes plead for more. You smile at him and kneel by the basin. You rub his face and neck with the cloth until his eyes close and he relaxes.

Once he is settled you cover your mouth and yawn. He sees you are tired “Go rest I will join you soon” he says and you place a kiss to his forehead.

You return to bed exhausted and fall back into a deep sleep. When Feyds body cools down he joins you in bed soon afrer and holds your waist kissing behind your ear enamored. He finally closes his eyes and falls asleep.

Only Pleasure Remains

It is the morning of Feyd’s battle reconnaissance on Arrakis.He will be going to the front lines to kill the remaining Fremen and rally the troops. His heart beats wildly as he prepares. Once fully in his armor he kneels down to caress your face. He might die today from a strategic attack, so he makes sure you see him leave “See me off Baroness” he says smiling as you open your eyes.

You reach up and cup his face and he pulls you from the sheets into a hug. His hard armor presses into the softness of your body. You hold his head around his ears making him lock eyes with you.

“You will prove your honor and then you will come back to me” you command him and he smiles giving you a chaste kiss. You know he is going to love every second of murdering today. He is in full military gear this time with a flowing regal cape.

You quickly cleanse your mouth and get dressed. You leave with him to the greeting hall where his top military advisors and brother are assembled and waiting.

You walk hand in hand trailed by your servants. You stop the procession and pull him into a kiss before he enters the greeting hall. He accepts your passionate kiss and pets down your hair. When you release his lips as your heart beats wildly youare terrified for him. “Do you feel nervous?” You ask feeling the uncertainty of warfare second hand.

He smiles staring into your eyes “I was born to be this” he confesses. It give you some reprieve that his words are true, his bloodline was bred for centuries to create a supreme being.

The servants open the greeting hall doors and you watch Feyd join his brother and his men. He looks back to you and smiles his cape unfurling as he turns with his commanding walk leaving to the underground warships cargo of the palace.

You stand at the greeting hall floor to ceiling windows and wait. After a moment his armada can be seen emerging from the base of the palace. The ships hover in place before setting the course to their destination and jettisoning off.

As the ships trail over the horizon your heart aches with uncertainty as you await Feyds return.

Flying south across the desert Feyd sees several structures in rubble with smoke billowing from them. “The death of our enemy by your hand brother “Rabban yells to Feyd over the loud engine of the craft. Looking into the horizon Feyd sees hundreds of billowing stacks of smoke.

They approach a large intact rock structure at the barrier of the north territory and the craft lands. Feyd exits the craft as his military strategist informs him they have rounded up the remaining Fremen who are most likely spies left behind.

Feyd plans to kill them all.

“Where?” He asks as they enter the structure. It is a cave with several rooms, one of them filled with messenger birds that a Harkonnen soldier crisps to death with a flame accelerator.

The military strategist escorts Feyd to the Fremen spies who are lined up on their knees in a single row. The large cave is overcrowded with Harkonnen soldiers for Feyds protection.

Feyd walks approaching the Fremen spies slowly. He eyes each of them in the line. “Are there more of you?” He asks. None of them respond, instead they hold their heads up in defiance.

“These are all that could be found alive Baron Feyd Rautha” his military strategist confirms

“Then I already know everything that I need to know” Feyd says staring at the first spy on his knees.

Feyd unsheathes his blade. The first spy sensing his certain death stands and lunges Feyd who easily slices him across his throat. The spy collapses to the ground gurgling on his blood as he expires.

The other spies begin to panic breathing rapidly looking to each other in fear knowing death is imminent.

Feyd gestures a solider to bring him the flame accelerator. His Harkonnen soldiers step from behind the spies and gather around Feyd to behold the mercilessness of their new Baron.

“Only pleasure remains” he announces clutching the trigger. It douses the spies in flaming liquid making them combust. The accelerant ignites their bodies into glowing torches illuminating the cave. All the soldiers hear the Fremens screams cut off as they burn alive disintegrating into char.

Feyd knows this is one of the most painful way to die. Once the other Fremen find these charred remains it will strike fear and respect into the inhabitants of the planet for the entirety of his reign.

This is the first of many strongholds they must clear today. Killing all who remain and securing control of the north.

Two Ways to Die

As you settle for bed you still have not heard of Feyd’s return. You feel anxious and slide open the balcony doors to view the desert for any signs of incoming crafts forgetting the rules set in place by Feyd. The night air is swelteringly hot as you scan the horizon.

There is a sudden knock at the main chamber door as you close the balcony. It is one of your assassins who knocks on your bedroom door. “I’ve been informed you’re not allowed on the balcony Barnoness ” he relays after you open it. You nod in agreement and close the bedroom door back . You are being watched at all times while Feyd is away.

You awaken a few hours later when there is activity in the main chamber. You hear Feyds voice speaking to the guards. You rush from the bedroom to the main chamber and see him. His eyes are emotionless as you run to hug him.

He is covered streaks of blood and it makes you gasp. He releases your hold on him “Wait for me in the bed chamber” he says clutching your wrists to keep your hands unsullied. He releases your wrists and you go to wait. He continues speaking with your assasind before dismissing them to the hall for the remainder of the night.

You pace looking to the bed chamber doors waiting. He finally enters and you notice the dark blood on his neck “You’re hurt!” You exclaim.

He is exhausted and keeps you at bay holding his hand out “Sit and wait for me I have already been treated by the palace healer ” he reassures you as he gestures you to sit. He walks to the decontamination chamber room and closes the door.

You wait anxiously until he emerges. Once he is clean you rush him again to check his body.

You see the bruises on his back and abs but the worst is the lengthy cut on his neck.

You trace your finger along the line, it is sealed shut. “Feyd what happened?” You ask finally looking into his eyes full of concern.

He walks you to the bed and sits pulling you onto his lap conserving his strength. He brings your hand to his temple to comfort him with your energy.

He closes his eyes and you observe his stressed face relax as you transfer calmness into his mind. He opens his eyes to gaze in yours and you see the softness return to them as he slowly begins revealing what happened.

“We were ambushed at one of the final strongholds” he admits. Your eyes widen in disbelief that he was attacked.

“The Fremen I fought to the death kneed me throughout as we struggled to gain the blade. I angled to allow him a slice to my neck and regained the handle once he extended his wrist. A small sacrifice to secure victory“ he admits with a weak smile. Your heart spirals knowing that he was in life threatening danger.

“In that moment just as in the arena when I felt death was near I laughed because I already have everything set in place to keep you safe forever should I die. I have always known I will not live long in this lif- - .”

You hug him to your chest to stop his morbid words. You don’t want to hear him say another utterance of his death it makes you emotionally fall apart.

You remove your robe from your shoulders and settle on to his lap. Both of you naked as you clutch his jaw and kiss every thought out of his head.

He relaxes into your kisses and lays back flat on the bed holding you to him never breaking the connection of your lips. He trails his hands up your spine settling them to the nape of your neck.

An idea returns to his mind of the only two ways he wants to die; one is in ultimate submission to you.

He pulls your face from his and gazes into your eyes. “I want to submit myself to you” he says sliding his hands to your hips lifting them up. He pulls you forward until your pussy hovers over his face. “I want to give myself only for your pleasure” he confesses

He trails his hands up to your waist and eagerly pulls you down onto his wanting mouth.

Once you settle on his face between your legs you tilt your head back and moan his name. He has never submitted to you in this way before and it completely ignites your sexual passion for him.

You fall forward and grip the sheets as he begins eating you mercilessly lapping your folds sucking them and jutting his chin up with every flick of his tongue. You are shaking and screaming in pleasure as your core tightens overwhelmed with his skill.

He groans against your folds and replaces his hands to cup your hips guiding you up and down on his mouth making you ride his face as he pushes his tongue into your entrance.

You grind against his mouth until your thighs tremble as you moan and orgasm. Your core releases the clear liquid arousal of your cum directly into his wanting mouth. His eyelids flutter in obsession lapping up your arousal in pure bliss. He licks you clean and pushes his tongue into your entrance prodding for more.

The only two ways he would choose his death; Being fatally stabbed by an expert fighter or being suffocated between your thighs devouring your sweet cunt until he expires.

Once you orgasm and have no cum left to give he grips the back of your thighs and quickly rolls on top of you. He climbs your body and settles between your legs. He lines his cock and plunges into your soft wet entrance. You are completely primed for him and he sinks deeply inside of you as he groans in pleasure.

You moan at the stretch of his large his size before you cry out at the way he fucks you.

He pounds into you grunting and spreading your thighs apart with his hands. He holds them back to increase his pleasure. He is so high from submitting to you and having you ride his face until you came that he is relentless.

His cock is painfully hard as he thrusts into your tight walls. He clenches his thighs to push himself even deeper. You two pant and moan in unison as he quickens his thrusts going harder wanting to cum.

He looks at your face full of passion beneath him and you see the intensity in his eyes of how much he loves you. It is immeasurable.

You reach up grab his neck pulling him down into a kiss. You lock your lips with him as he rocks into you with his thrusts. His hips falter and he deeply moans into your mouth as he begins releasing his warm cum in to you. He breaks the kiss but you bite his lower lip making him stay and he cums even harder.

You wrap your legs around his waist to prevent him from slamming you into the bed and it intensifies his pleasure even more, keeping him fully inside of you as he empties his pulsing cock. He finally slows his thrusts to a stop.

He shudders as he stares down at you catching his breath. It was one of his most fulfilling sexual experiences he’s had with you and you both smile at each other in recognition.

He lifts his hips and slips out of you rolling on to his back trying to slow his breaths.

You are both covered in sweat your sex making the room increase in temperature.

You know he is hot and leave the bed to fill the sand stone basin. Once it is full you stop the valve. He hears it and comes to get in the cool water. As he steps he holds your hand to join him, helping you over the ledge.

He settles down in the water and has you lay your back against his chest. As he holds you firm to him, you both of you rest your eyes enjoying the intimate moment.

He trails his hand along your shoulder before finally breaking the silent moment. “Ask your Doulah how soon after the first can I fill you with a second.” You laugh at his eager request and how much he wants to have more children with you.

Flipping over in the water you rest on his chest with your arms around his neck. You gaze into his impatient eyes as you answer resolutely “Feyd Rautha first you must have this one” he grins and flips you over to rest your back on his chest again. His hands slide down around your womb beneath the water cradling you with his first unborn. He can not wait to have his children with you.

The Final Days

Feyds powers increase exponentially. He begins bombing raids on large structures in the south of Arrakis killing hundreds of thousands. The inhabitants of the planet submit to him completely to save what remaining ancient holy structures they have left.

They believe no matter who controls the planet that one day their Muad’Dib will rise and avenge the catastrophes Feyd Rautha has caused their people.

Without interference from the Fremen the Harkonnen army begins to run the harvesters untouched increasing Spice production exponentially.

When Feyd frees the hold on Spice his wealth soon surpasses that of the emperors. He uses his excess riches and status to coerce and bribe other members of the great houses. The calculating Feyd Rautha becomes untouchable.

Feyds upgraded quarters are substantially luxurious on Giedi Prime. The bed frame is carved from the black Harkonnen stone of purity.

There is a seating room, a sauna, a spa, and a room to entertain guests with a balcony that stretches the entire length of the suite.

Due to his constant concerns of your safety he requested you remain there for the final weeks of your pregnancy ensuring everything you needed was provided for.

When Feyd returns after his Baron duties he always seeks you out embracing you like he hasn’t seen you in days. He is running several interplanetary campaigns as well improving the world for his people. He cherishes the calm quiet moments you can spend together.

He wants the same thing each time after he bathes. He hugs you from behind running his hands over your full breasts and your womb whispering gently in your ear about how beautiful you look carrying his unborn until he makes you smile.

Then he would help you lay on the bed and place his ear against your womb. At first he would thump it with his fingers it summon the unborn until you told him just to use his voice instead and placed his hand were you knew he would feel the kicks.

He was infatuated feeling his unborn respond to him. He would pull your hand to his head forcing you to send him calming energy and would often fall asleep exhausted in your lap with his hand resting on your womb this way. Other nights he wanted more.

The first instance when you felt the dull ache that wouldn’t dissipate during sex you grabbed his arm begging him to stop as you tried to recover from the pain. The penetration of his large cock became too painful. He immediately withdrew himself and held you in his arms caressing you until you felt the pain subside.

You still craved him but in a much softer way and he understood. You were sacred to him and he couldn’t get enough of you but he would forgo his pleasure for your own.

Having you sit up he would stack pillows behind your back and worship your body trailing kisses down your neck to your chest sucking each of your nipples into his mouth.

He would continue down your belly massaging the sides before gently settling between your legs. He would pleasure you slowly and carefully sliding his fingers in and out of you coaxing the swollen firmness within that made you fall apart for him within seconds.

His favorite part was your new taste his breathing would become heavier waiting for the exact moment you clenched on his fingers as you came. He would lap up your arousal which was so sweet to him like nectar.

His cock would painfully harden as he made you cum and he tasted it.

When he pleasured himself for you he would always let you watch. Often he would squeeze one of your full breast in his hand as he came or have you press your fingers to his temple and illicit him with pain to release his cum.

After he orgasmed he would clean his hands and take the pillows from behind your back turning you on your side. As he lay behind you he would kiss the back of your head and place his hand on your womb as you slept.

He knew anyday the unborn would be arriving. When it was dark in the stillness of night he would be awakened by the unborns firm kicks against his hand. They were so powerful now.

A Royal Decree

When Feyd is summoned by royal decree to Kaitan to meet with the Emperor he is enraged at the timing during your most fragile state of pregnancy. As you load onto the warship he fears for your safety and health on Kaitan but he can not leave you on Geidi Prime he knows you will birth his heir any day and he will not miss it. He brings his best militants and assassins with your Doulah.

The Emperor assures him they have the most skilled midwife in the galaxy should complications arise. He knows that the child is protected by the Bene Gessirit as one of the most highly sought after bloodlines to create a supreme being in history. He welcomes Feyd with open arms.

As you arrive to Kaitan you are mystified. You look at the expanse of the lush green planet in all directions as you fly to the palace. The craft descends at its destination and you see the infamous palatial waterfalls similar to the ones were you used to study.

You become excited and squeeze Feyds hand as he rests next to you in the space craft lounge. You haven’t seen your home world in almost a year but it feels like a lifetime.

You and Feyd exit the craft together escorted by two advisors, three assassins, and a flank of his most skilled Harkonnen warriors stationed behind him.

The palace greeter is shocked by Feyds entourage it is like an Emperor’s“ Greetings Baron and Baroness Harkonnen I am Pitri” The greeter says as he warily eyes your full pregnancy “The Emperor apologizes for requesting your presence at such an inconvenient time but some rather alarming accusations have come to light that must be addressed in person. I’m sure you will come to understand. I will show you to your quarters.” He announces.

You walk through the grandiose palace to reach the guest suites and are shown to your accommodations. Two of your Bene Gessit sisters wait at the door to welcome your arrival they approach you in jubilation. They are pushed back by the assassins ready to unsheathe their swords.

Feyd snaps his fingers and smiles as they release the startled females. Exactly the protection he wants for his Baroness. “May we approach Baroness Harkonnen” they bow and ask correctly the second time. You nod and smile as they come to hug you. They marvel over your garments and your rings.

Feyd leaves one guard with you and waits as the assassins clear the room of any threats.

Once they clear the room you are permitted to enter. Your sisters pull your hands gently guiding you inside. Your eyes widen at the extravagance of the room is like its own small palace. Pillars in the entry way make you look up to a hand painted mural of the palatial gardens

The room itself is open to a palace lake. Round awnings are decorated with curtains that billow in the wind. The room is completely open to an outside garden.The theme is turquoise and gold decorations throughout the colors are bright and fanciful every room is filled with fresh fruit and decorative bouquets of flowers.

You are quite exhausted from the trip but your sisters beckon you to sit with them in the enormous living room and you oblige.

As you rest on a sofa together they can’t help but caress your belly. “When does the unborn kick?” Your sister Freya asks feeling the round firmness pressing her ear to your womb “Very often at night” you say wearily.

“How has Baron Feyd Rautha been during your pregancy. The rumors of Giedi Prime men and their treatment of females is atrocious.” Delphine says making a wary face toward Feyd while he is speaking with his advisor.

You smile looking down at your belly trailing your hand around it “He has surprisingly been obsessed with me and his unborn” you admit as you blush. They smile with you. ”He has even broached the topic lightly in meetings with his advisors about the evolving roles of females on Giedi Prime. I fear if he isn’t careful some will assume a female might be in control of him” you tease making the three of you giggle together in secret.

Feyd’s advisor informs him the Revered Mother has requested your company in isolation. He immediately dismisses it. “I do not know this female. The risk is too great here she can come to Giedi Prime where I can guarantee the safety of the Baroness” he says in a set tone. His advisor bows and arranges to send the correspondence.

The Emperor has requested a private meeting with Feyd over dinner that evening which intrigues him more. As you speak to your sisters he prepares for the occasion.

When you notice he has retreated to get changed you bid your sisters farewell.

Once they leave you head to the master suite joining Feyd and close the door. You rest back on the ornate canopy bed with your arms splayed at your sides The garden breeze blows through the room bringing the sweet scent of florals. You feel heavy and physically exhausted you can no longer get up and use your remaining energy to turn on your side instead.

Feyd emerges from the wardrobe room dressed regally in a black high collar shirt with a cape. Pinned to the front is his Baron Medallion.

He walks over to you and smiles, seeing you are unable to remain awake he caresses your face. “I will call your servants to attend to you I want you to rest until I get back” he says gently as your heavy eyelids shut. This is normal behavior for you now. He knows his powerful unborn is harvesting all of your energy he caresses your womb before he leaves to have dinner with the Emperor.

The Emperor

Feyd walks the enormous palace to the throne room with two of his Harkonnen guards. They are stopped at the doors by the Emperial solidiers, only Feyd is permitted to enter.

He looks around the large dome space of the throne room in its impressive grandeur. There is no one in sight. He eyes the throne of the Emperor and takes a few paces toward its golden steps before a familiar voice stops him.

“Baron Feyd Rautha my how you’ve grown.” Princess Irulan says as she approaches him.

She swishes her elaborate silver gown as she walks over to study the mystifying man before her with appealing interest.

She pleasantly smiles as they greet. “The last I’d seen you was ages ago. I remember it distinctly…you were so excited to show me one of your new blades…of course my servants ushered me away. ‘He’s a dangerous child they warned me, but I found you to be very sweet.” She says fondly smiling from the memory looking at how handsome he’s become.

“I have no memory of this “ Feyd admits

“You were but a boy about this tall” she measures to his chest at his Barons medallion then looks into his striking blue eyes. “But you’ve grown much bigger since then.” She admits with an alluring smile, she slowly encircles Feyd looking over his regal clothing and his strong physique before standing in front of him again with a mysterious smile.

“I was dismayed I couldn’t attend your gladiatorial event I would’ve loved to see you wield the blades you are so fond of.” she sighs “From what I hear you performed valiantly and then had quite the time at your birthday celebration….before……your uncle unexpectedly expired the next morning...” she shares.

Princess Irulan approaches him closer to check his eyes trying to discern if he actually killed his own uncle.

“It must have been bitter sweet” she says gazing deeper into his eyes as she presses her hands to smooth the front of his cape. Feyd takes a small step back due to her comfort in his proximity.

“Your father had me summoned here why are you the one who greets me?.” He asks tilting his head in curiosity.

She studies his stoic demeanor wondering how she can crack him to bend to her will. She finally pinpoints a weakness and ignores his question to interrogate him.

“Knowing your infamous lust for power it seems all too convenient doesn’t it? Your uncle falling ill as soon as my father deems you the worthy Baron of Geidi Prime?” She says tracing her fingertip around his Baron Medallion.

Feyd can no longer stand her incessant talking and veiled threats “Where is the Emperor?” He snaps. His dominance excites her and she stares at him with an unwavering intensity having never been talked down to.

She tries to gain his favor with sympathy .“My father is frail. He wasn’t feeling well this morning. He and I were supposed to meet you in the throne room together but look he is still at the out door dinner table set up for us, just there” she points and Feyd sees the frail old man being helped to sit back down at the head of the table in the palatial gardens.

“My father is a very proud man he will walk to you eventually but let’s make it easier and walk to him together through the garden shall we?.“ she requests looking at Feyd with kind eyes.

He cares nothing for the old man but walks to make the meeting faster.

Princess Irulan slips her hand around Feyds arm as they walk, he immediately releases her hold stepping aside as they continue on their path. “It is impolite for a guest to refuse an escort to the Princess in the palace” she corrects him.

“I do not entertain the wishes of a princess” he responds clasping his hands behind his back as they walk together. She smiles enjoying the way he challenges her.

“Typical Harkonnen male unassuming of the power a female can weild“ she says pulling his arm and replacing her hand around it.

“My title holds more power over yours in every way possible Baron Feyd Rautha you will do as I say” she commands. It burns Feyd on the inside to be talked to in such a way but he does not show it.

He clearly sees through her veiled attempts to control him for her benefit. Her dress her mannerisms the way she continues to stare longingly at him holding his arm. All signs the Emperor is desperate to arrange a marriage between them.

Feyd knows the mysterious leak of Vladimir Harkonnens documentation of the ordered Atreides genocide must have reached Kaitan by now.

With the correspondences traced directly from the palace ordering the attack on Caladan, the Emperor must be aware his reign is coming to an end.

As they both approach Emperor Shaddam smiles. He is a frail old man with white hair and a stoic face. He wear an extravagant shimmering white tunic with gold adornments.

“Feyd Rautha! Ah my mistake Baron Feyd Rautha I haven’t seen you since you were a boy” he exclaims “I’ve already told him father “ Princess Irulan says flatly. ”You look very handsome with my Princess Irulan on your arm why did you ever go back on that proposal negotiation! I would adore to call you my son in law.” The Emperor reveals.

“You both know why” Feyd Rautha admits shooting them glances and removing Princess Irulans hand the final time before he continues.

“What I want to know is why you can’t even bring yourself to acknowledge her, my Baroness.” he says eyes glaring between them. It enrages him that they think of him without you.

The Emperor puts his hands up to calm the situation “Baron we are aware of her yes and her condition we are just confused. Your uncle informed us you needed her to procure an heir but due to high incompatibility you would be sending her back here to Kaitan.” The Emperor reveals. Feyd tries to hide the impact of the shocking blow of the Emperors revalation by shifting his jaw.

Princes Irulans passions increase for Feyd seeing he is truly in love, this is his weakness. She watches him fidget with his signet ring clearly distressed and thinking about his Baroness. She is used to cold political marriages and power dynamics. Seeing a Harkonnen male with his heart strung for a female stirs something inside of her.

She thought him to be masculine and domineering which excites her. But the handsome man who stands before her is also intelligent and loyal with extreme wealth and honor. She must have him.

“The Baroness is my wife and her child is my heir” Feyd proclaims.

The Emperor puts his hands up in acknowledgment “I see that there has definitely been a misunderstanding. Irulan my lovely daughter, you will not be joining us for dinner” The emperor informs her. Princess Irulan lifts her chin in frustration, she is used to getting her way.

She approaches her father and kisses his cheek bidding him farewell. She smiles to Feyd “My father is a kind man unlike your uncle, what a shame, House Harkonnen could have held such a powerful union.”she says alluringly.

Feyd lifts his chin with a sinister gaze “ If you so desire to be betrothed into House Harkonnen so be it. Emperor Shaddam set forth the arrangements to marry Princess Irulan with my brother Rabban” her eyes widen in shock. Rabban is a brutal impulsive butcher she does not desire him at all.

Feyd enjoys the fear in her eyes and holds back his smile as the Emperor actually mulls it over.

Before he can utter a word Princess Irulan cuts in. “Father we must speak with the Reverend Mother on such arrangments” she says quickly.

Her father nods in agreement. “You are correct as always on these matters my precious daughter” he says taking her hand and patting it. She looks to her father and then longingly at Feyd bidding them farewell for the evening.

The emperor rests back down in his chair at the head of the table clearly tired from the exertion of merely standing. He gestures Feyd to take the seat at his right as a servant pulls the chair for him.

A meal of fresh herb filet is plated infront of them. Feyd cuts into the fish and brings a piece to his mouth. He enjoys the texture and the soft flavor he has never had fish before.

The Emperor gets straight to the topic at hand seeing Feyd is swift and precise at cutting through conversations.

“It has come to light that the atrocities committed on Caladan that wiped out the Atreides were premeditated .” He sighs.

“You mean the affairs of my uncle?” Feyd questions with his hands clasped already distancing himself from collusion.

“Yes unfortunately so, as you are aware it was ordered by my hand and now I will be tried in front of a tribunal of the great houses…..” the Emperor puts down his fork and looks into Feyds eyes.

“Baron Feyd Rautha my reign has come to an end, my sins have caught up with me. What I have done I chose to do. Every sacrifice I made led me to the path which I was foretold would benefit mankind. Do you understand the weight of such a decision?” the Emperor implores.

“Do I understand the weight of ordering a genocide to suppress the power of a competent rival ?“ Feyd asks throwing the Emperor’s sins directly back in his face.

“Yes …yes that is why you have been summoned you will be as I am, you will have what I have in leadership. The decisions I made were all guided by the Bene Gessirit. Have you met the Reverend mother yet?” The emperor asks with piqued curiosity

“I have not“ Feyd admits. The Emperor thinks on his answer. “If you have come this far without meeting her, then she already controls you” the Emperor says with a warning glare that falters Feyds confidence. The old man says it with such a depth of sincerity it cannot be false.

“What exactly does the Reverend Mother want” Feyd asks with a newfound curiosity.

“What they all want power and control. One will replace the other but they all twist fate to their benefit to create the ultimate being. A human able to see past present and future. Even the highest Bene Gesserit, the Reverend Mother can only see the past.

Baron have you known you carry the superior bloodline? Your Baroness is in fact a Bene Gesserit as are the multitude of women who infiltrated your family for centuries to breed…do you understand that this is why they want your child?

Feyd sits back in shock he cares not of what the Bene Gesserit want. “What will happen to my child?” Feyd asks leaning back in fully invested with his only concern.

The Emperor thinks it over before coming to his conclusion. He leans in closer to Feyd as he speaks. “Baron what I tell you can not be interfered with. They have ways to make men do unspeakable things if you turn against them. Before I knew you had an attachment I would have willingly told you, now that I know you love the mother and child… Baron I must be honest, with your traumatic family history I fear for your mental sanity when I share the news.”

Feyd takes a deep breath and asks resolutely

“What will happen to my child”

The Emperor looks to the sky and then stressfully relents

“If your infant is female she will be taken from her mother at birth indoctrinated in the ways of the Bene Gesserit. She will be completely ignorant of her parentage and will be raised in complete secrecy. Ultimately she will become ..a bedding concubine … a pleasure slave for the male who will impregnate her with a son to secure the bloodline. The Bene Gesserit breed only to have females. This would make your grandson the rarest male Bene Gesserit of all, the Kswis Haderach that has been awaited for centuries”

Feyds breathing increases wondering if you know they will take the newborn at birth and if his uncle designed every detail of this plan with the Bene Gessirit. He remembers his uncle never thought he would be invested in marriage and wanted you sent away during your pregnancy. His heart pounds rapidly at the complications now.

“You say the Bene Gessirit favor the birth of females what if my unborn is male?”he asks. The Emperor thinks back before he responds.

“There was such an instance directly linked to you Baron Feyd Rautha. Your compatible mate was to be born in the House Atreides.You would have fathered the Kswish Haderisck you were meant to have a son.”

Feyd is shocked by the admission and listens to the Emperor further.

“Lady Jessica defied the order and birthed a boy named Paul with Duke Leto Atreides making your union incompatible. This is the center of it all the Bene Gesserit will have to wait another generation for your daughter to birth the Kswis Haderach which should have been your son.”

“Now what will happen if my unborn a male?” Feyd requestions.

“He will be an abomination to the Bene Gesserit just as Paul Atreides they will want nothing to do with him” the Emperor reveals.

Feyd sits back in silence realizing his cursed Harkonnen lineage continues. If he has a daughter she will be ignorant of her parentage just as he never knew his father and mother.

The painful memory of Feyds childhood floods his mind entirely. He clutches his head in mental anguish no longer able to contain the agony and stress he’s carried deep inside for so long. He rocks back and forth and squeezes his eyes shut in dispar, his bloodline has already cursed his unborn.

That fateful day on Lankerville when Rabban killed their father Feyd Rautha was there.

Matricide

The ship carrying the Baron with Rabban and Feyd landed on the planet Lankerville.

The Baron remained in the craft with the young Feyd while Rabban went to speak with their father.

Feyd was seven years old, a very quiet and clever boy. Vladimir had Feyd rested upon his lap holding him closely petting him affectionately.

The Baron knew the day would come when he would need to punish his brother Abulurd for renouncing the Harkonnen name and tying to hide away with his sons.

What better way to deliver justice on such a dishonor than to have his brothers sons raised as Harkonnens to return and deliver it.

Years prior he easily tracked down his fleeing brother Abulurd with his Bene Gesserit wife. The Baron generously offered his brother the planet Lankerville to show no ill will.

But soon as Arbulurd arrived on Lankerville with his wife and sons the Baron ordered his Harkonnen guards to clutch baby Feyd out of his mother’s arms and collect the teenaged Rabban.

He took his brothers sons for his crime of renouncing the Harkonnen name.

Their mother screamed at the Baron for interfering with the plans of the Bene Gesserit and how he would pay for his actions. The Baron hated the woman she was the reason his brother fled in the first place, she had poisoned Abulurds mind. He wished to dispatch of her in that instant. But he knew letting her live with the fact her sons, birthed for the Bene Gessirts, weretaken would be a fate worse than death.

The Baron adored Feyd from the instant the guard placed him in his waiting arms.The babies eyes were crystal blue and he smelled of fresh powder. The Baron bonded to him instantly. He snuggled baby Feyd and offered his pinky for the small outstretched hand to hold. A son not of his loins but a Harkonnen he would raise as his own.

He called out to the fourteen year old Rabban who was still struggling against the guards with all of his might.

With his father and mother surrounded by Harkonnen soldiers as he spoke to the young Rabban and held baby Feyd “Your father is a traitor to the Harkonnen name and for his dishonor you will be raised with me to learn your heritage. This is the only reason I spare your parents lives today.” the Baron admits.

Rabban stopped his struggling then to look at his parents. Both of them never favored him and his head hung low as they did not even go against what was happening.

The Baron smiled seeing Rabbans dismay “I will make you a brave warrior Glassu Rabban you will command the respect of hundreds of thousands in my army and perhaps even rule Geidi prime” the Baron offered.

Baby Feyd made a small sound then and the Baron cood at him snuggling him closer. “What is it my little prince” he said petting the softness of Feyd’s crown.

Rabbans voice spoke up “I will go with you and I will do as you ask” he was teary eyed as his parents remained silent. The guards released him and he willingly followed the Baron from his home looking back at his parents who stood with their heads low.

As they entered the space craft he finally heard their cries of agony. “Have you killed them!” Rabban asked stunned “No no for what they have done being alive is a fate far worse than death” The Baron informed Rabban while adoring the sleeping Infant Feyd in his arms.

Seven years later Abulurd began defying the Baron at every instance as the governor of Lankerville.

The correspondence he was using the planets tax money to help the poor was the final act of disobedience that brought swift action. The Baron announced he would be arriving personally on Lankerville to punish his brother.

Abulurd had been waiting for this instance. He was not helping the poor with the tax money but instead had purchased a small army to kill his brother for taking his sons in an attempt to rescue them back.

When the Baron landed on the planet their crafts were heavily ambushed. The Baron had brought double his armada already sensing it was a trap his craft was quickly protected.

Rabbans anger was at its peak looking at the Baron who sat in his chair waiting for the lasgun fire to cease. “How dare he defy you! “ Rabban yelled hearing the beams blast the hull of the craft. Rabban growled as he paced waiting for the doors to unload to take his father’s life as the Baron requested.

Feyd sat calmly on the Barons lap watching his brother and six guards charge out of the craft once the gunfire had ceased.

A solider reported to the raging Rabban that the two traitors they were asked to detain were bound inside. The rest of the rebels had been slain. Rabban charged into the governors mansion.

“You are a traitor to the Harkonnen name “

Rabban had yelled as he punched his kneeling and bound father knocking him to the ground in the throne room.

His mother wailed seeing Rabban had become what she always feared, an impulsive raging monster “where is Feyd Rautha let me see my son”she begged.

Rabban ignored her and as his father tried to explain why he defied the Baron Rabban cut him short and strangled his father to death.

When his mother saw her husband killed at the hands of their own son who was trying to save him she couldn’t bear reality anymore and went insane. She bolted trying to escape the throne room but was quickly caught and brought back by on of the Harkonnen warriors that surrounded her.

“Do you want to see your favorite son?” Rabban asked taunting her knowing what the Baron had in store for his most hated Bene Gesserit. ”Gag her.” he ordered before she could speak and the guards bound her mouth shut having her kneel again.

As the screams of his mother grew louder from the mansion Feyd climbed from his uncle lap to see the commotion. “This is what happens to traitors of the Harkonnen name who dishonor their ancestors the very blood that runs through your veins Feyd Rautha.” He told the boy as he took his hand to bring him into the mansion throne room.

Feyd did not recognize his own mother bound with her mouth gagged and kneeling on the ground. She gasped when she saw him and struggled to speak with her mouth obstructed.

The Baron handed the boy his favorite new blade. Feyd approached the woman yanking her head back by the hair. She was calm and did not scream or fight like the others, she willingly gave herself to him staring into his eyes as he slit the blade across her throat.

“Feyd that was our mother” Rabbans voice announced as he stood over the body of their father watching the lives they knew be severed forever.

The Baron quickly tried to pull Feyd away but the boy broke from the Barons grasp and began screaming as he dropped to his knees clutching his mothers dying body.

For the first time Feyd cried. It was so loud and tormenting his brother kneeled by his side and squeezed his frail shoulders not knowing how to calm him.

Rabban began rambling all of the rhetoric engrained in his mind by the Baron “Our mother and father betrayed everything Harkonnen do you realize the sacrilege our father committed. He dishonored our very blood line he tried to steal us from our birthright. Even today he planned an ambush to kill Uncle Vladimir!” Rabban yelled.

Feyd had gone catatonic with his arms clutched around his mother’s neck. Rabban shook him hard yet he did not stir from her body “She never cared for us Feyd let her go. She was Bene Gesserit.... Look at how she tricked our father.” he gestured to the body of the dead man behind him.

But Feyd having been traumatized for the entirety of his young life was mentally gone. After all of his training this is the death that shattered his frail mind.

“Come with me and uncle we have served justice for our ancestors today. We will pray for their forgiveness in the old manner, we can leave this place the traitors are gone brother” Rabban pleaded.

Feyds were black as if his spirit had left from his body. He stared straight ahead motionless as his chin rested on his mother’s head. Rabban rested his hand on his brothers neck to check his pulse, he was alive. Rabban then looked to the Baron

”He has gone into shock.” Rabban said once he realized why his brother could no longer react.

The Baron sneered at Rabban

“I trained him so well for this moment and you had to tell him it was his mother?”

Rabban was confused. “I thought he should know as I know for our Harkonnen honor.” he confessed.

“He would have known in time until then she would have been just another female. Your Impulsive ignorance has always greatly disappointed me Rabban. You have caused a fracture in his core persona that can only be filled with more depravity, or he will be the most sympathetic Harkonnen the planet has ever seen. Carry him to the ship�� the Baron commanded and Rabban scooped up Feyds limp body taking him to the craft heading back to Giedi Prime.

Now in the presence of the Emperor Feyd has a full mental break down. His head is clutched in his hands as he breaths wildly feeling unable to replace the air in his lungs. He suffers in pain as his mind flashes through the horrific memory that he wants to make stop. He cries out in agony rocking back and forth in his chair unable to regain his mind as the memory has a visceral response.

The Emperor sees the young man is so tormented from his words that he tries to comfort him “Baron Feyd Rautha I warned you with your family history that I feared for your mental sanity. You were only a boy then how could you have known” the Emperor says with sympathy placing his hand on Feyds shoulder.

Feyd smacks the Emperors hand from his shoulder standing up abruptly from his chair and staring at the old man wildly. Feyd stares at his hands in complete disbelief of who he really is and fears he is going insane he flees the Emperor to find his guards.

He finds them at the entrance of the throne room out of breath as he tries to hold himself together. He is covered in a cold sweat shivering and nauseous as he command them weakly “Take me to my Baroness.”

You hear the short wails of Feyd in the hall before the palace suite doors slam open. The guards bring Feyd holding his arms and guide to sit on the couch. He is in severe mental distress holding back tears unable to speak going catatonic.

You rush to him and immediately press your finger tips to his temple as the guards watch. He clings to you then and you stare into his wild eyes as it takes him several moments to calm down. “What is wrong with him? Was he drugged?” You frighteningly ask his captain of the guard. “No Baroness the Baron was not himself after h met with the Emperor he ordered us to bring him directly to you.” They relay.

Your heart sinks as you tend to him. He endured severe mental anguish for quite some his eyes are now trembling as he looks at you. He can never bring himself to say what he has done. Tears begin falling down his cheeks as he loosens his grasp on your arms your calming energy finally taking effect as he relents into unconsciousness.

In the morning you tend to Feyd on the bed where the guards helped place him. He had severe nightmares throughout the night screaming for his mother. You held him comfortingly and transferred calming energy as you whispered to him that he was safe in your arms.

Now as the day beings and sunlight creeps through the suite you are exhausted.

You ask your servant to arrange a meeting or written correspondence with the Emperor. He is the only one who knows what happened to Feyd during the evening.

When the Emperor denies your request you begin to suspect that Feyd is the son that committed matricide and the Emperor will not betray his confidence.

As you look over Feyds sleeping form you hold his hands. A wave of fear and sadness fills your heart. You you wonder how he did it and why.

Your servant knocks again and hands you a second letter that arrived just after the Emperors. It is from your Reverend Mother requesting an urgent meeting within the hour at the atrium of the main palace garden.

You have your servants help you to get dressed for your meeting with her. You transfer more calming energy to Feyds mind as he rests in bed and whisper in his ear that you will come back. You plant a soft kiss to his forehead as you leave him.

Reverend Mother

The palatial gardens are beautiful as the morning light streaks through the trees. Butterflies guide your path as you walk to the location the reverend mother requested. You are trailed by your Doulah and three assassins. Due to her order that you meet in complete privacy you have them wait just out of earshot.

You walk to the garden atrium where you see the Reverend Mother seated in a stone chair with the one across from her open. She gestures you to sit.

She is covered head to toe in black her face hidden behind a beaded veil. She wears the traditional Bene Gesserit headpiece adding to her stature.

These are the same the gardens you used to frolic in as you trained for the order when your loyalties were at the strongest for the Bene Gesserits.

The Reverend Mother looks at you now covered head to toe in black elaborate shimmering fabrics. Your face covered in a sheer veil unable to hide your stunning beauty beneath. The skin on your hands are a paler shade from the toxic conditions on Geidi prime and gold rings cover every finger.

“You are not the innocent I thought would be defiled. You have transformed the defiled into his highest potential.” She finally speaks as you sit across from her.

“Your husband has become quite powerful, as you are aware. His genetics were bred for centuries to create such an excellent specimen, as is his child in your womb.” She gestures at your full pregnancy knowing the time is near.

“Feyd Rautha has changed the course of his destiny, there are very few who can have alternate timelines such as this. With your child we will soon know with precision the outcome of every single shift in time .”

She pauses her words knowing her next piece of information is vital.

“Feyd will be Emperor.”

She proclaims

You let out a sigh of relief. His life ambition will be fulfilled.

“Do your loyalties lie with the Bene Gesserit?“ she asks you with intent shocking you as you try to answer correctly.

“Yes Revered Mother.” You answer quickly

“Then I tell you this in the upmost confidentiality. The Emperor will be dethroned in seven days at the tribunal of the great houses for his war crimes. He will be exiled to Salusa Secundus.

With Feyd Rautha to be Emperor you are now his right hand you will be our direct link to him. Will you follow every command of the order?” She asks directly.

“Yes Revered Mother” you rush to say in agreement.

Your answer sounds uncertain to her ears so she begins to test your loyalty further.

“When you are asked to evoke the Pranu Bindu and paralyze him will you say the word?” She says studying your body for any hint of description.

You squint your eyes to prevent them from showing your fear. “Yes Reverend Mother” you lie.

She has a skill to read description and knows you have lost your loyalty. She realizes Feyd Rautha must have fractured your mind with coercions of his own.

She tests a theory

”When you are pregnant with the second child of Feyd Rautha will you sacrifice it to ensure the success of your first.

The question makes you grip the chair

“Yes revered mother” you quickly lie. Feeling a lump form in your throat.

She looks closer through your veil.

“Your eyes well with tears.” She says poignantly.

You have an emotional outburst due to the stress of the situation “I will serve and continue to serve the order to the best of my ability Reverend Mother” you recite the call to the order but it is too late

She uses the voice on you for the final test if your loyalty.

{{Will you kill Feyd Rautha when ordered}}

You feel your head tighten as you answer with pure truth “No revered mother” She releases you from the voice dissapointed.

You take a deep breath and she sees the sadness in your eyes realizing you have fallen in love with him. Her eyes convey her strong disapproval.

The Revered Mother has gathered enough information from your sisters and throughout your pregnancy to know Feyd Rautha will flee and hide you away with his heir just as his mother and father tried to do for him and just as your mother and father tried to do for you.

You will be repeating the cycle of insanity that brought the downfall of both of your family’s and she can not allow that.

Your parents had renounced the royal status of their great house and collected their assets and gold from the treasury fleeing to another planet one month before you were born.

When the Order found you hidden away you were well past the age to be taken, you knew your parents and had formed your own identity.

As they trained you your rebellion was rampant wanting only to be with your mother and father. Your mental and physical abilities were far underdeveloped from the others until adolescence when your gift to control your bodies sexual abilities advanced to a level beyond your training. You could control every cell of your body to induce ovulation, you were unmatched.

In your youth however you were a problem child until the fateful day you were given the news your parents had been poisoned and you would never see them again. From that day forth you had been the most obedient of all.

The Revered Mother stands and leaves your presence to make arrangements to have you taken after the birth of your newborn which she knows will occur on Kaitan.

She can not risk a disruption to secure the bloodline of the Kswis Haderach. She plans to bring you back to the sisterhood and have you indoctrinated to control Feyd and have your newborn to be raised as a Bene Gesserit.

When you are certain she has gone you weep uncontrollably. You are shaken to your core at her words of killing Feyd Rautha and sacrificing your second child.

Once you collect your self. You reach the entrance of the garden and are escorted back to the Palace with your three assassins and your Doulah.

You clutch her arm and hold your womb with care because as you walk you continue to feel sharp pinches of pain in your core which you try to ignore.

Harkonnen Heir

When you reach the palace suite Feyd is dressed and sitting in a chair at the out door awning viewing the lake. The surface shimmers brightly due to the hour and the dancing reflections distract his weakened mind. When your arms slip around his neck he relaxes into you holding your forearm. He tilts his head up to gaze into your eyes and he smiles.

He feels complete now that your have returned to him and stands to hold you. He removes your veil and pulls you close planting a kiss on your forehead and holding you to his chest for a length of time centering himself.

“I thought youd been taken from me” he admits breaking the silence. “Never” you say smiling up at him. “Where did you go?” He asks gently. “I met with the Reverend Mother in the garden.” you confess and his heart sinks as remembers the words of the Emperor. “She will take our unborn and I can not allow that” he confesses.

“She will not.“ You say with confidence. Suddenly you feel a sharp pain in your core and cling to Feyd. You cry out as it intensifies and he helps you to the floor cradling you in his lap as the pain radiates stronger.

You feel the ache travel to your abdomen and you clutch your womb as you wail. The pain is agonizing and Feyd grabs ahold of your hands trying to calm you. He alerts the stunned guard who rushes in to to get your Doulah.

You look into Feyds eyes ”the unborn” you gasp out. “yes our child is arriving soon” he says with a smile to comfort you as he caresses your jaw. He quickly thinks of a way to protect his newborn from being taken.

You arrive in the brightly lit birthing chamber of the Emperial palace. It is a circular room with a large dome roof. Light shines down from a skylight in the dome with windows spaced every few inches apart to allow in the most light. There is only one entrance which is heavily guarded by Feyd soldiers.

You are moved from the transport bed to the birthing bed and propped with pillows to sit upright with your legs apart by the medical assistants. Feyd never releases your hand and remains by your side. Your practiced breathes fill the room doing just as your Doulah trained you.

As your contractions continue to worsen Feyd looks over your body in concern before finally gazing into your eyes. You have never witnessed his striking blue eyes exhibiting such fear before. You want to comfort him but you are in too much pain.

The midwife enters the room clad in the finest fabrics of Kaitan wearing masks with her healers. She conducts her inspection guiding her team with calming authority. Her assistants cut your gown from your body and covering you in a white sheet.

Seeing you are ready she gestures you to push and as you do the pain intensifies. After several pushes the air in the birthing chamber becomes thick with tension there is a complication.

The midwife requests to speak with Feyd separately in the crowded room and he momentarily leaves your side.

“Baron Feyd Rautha her labor is too intense the unborn will not stir” she conveys. Feyd for the first time feels pin pricks of fear all over his body “What can be done” he asks with urgency “We will be able to save both but we must have your permission to ….cut the flesh of the Baroness” she discerns. Feyd is relieved he finds it only fitting a Harkonnen should be cut out as if in combat. He readily agrees.

The palace healers comfort you as the and turn you on your side. They numb the skin of your back and gently place a needle in your spine to dull the lower half of your body from pain and movement.

When they remove the needle and gently lay you back on your pillows you are dizzy and high unable to feel your lower half. There is no more pain and Feyd holds your hand again. He looks down at you and smiles seeing your face is so calm.

“They will cut the unborn out” he says squeezing your hand tighter. You nod feeling the intense high in your body making you feel as if you are floating as you stare at him “Did you give them one of your blades to cut the unborn out.” you ask drugged and he smiles as he shakes his head no and pets back your hair.

The room is stagnant as the midwife applies more injections to the site she will cut. She pricks your belly hard with the knife drawing blood when you do not feel it she continues her incision.

Feyd’s breathing intensifies and his eyes widen in bewilderment as he watches her cut you open. The assistants place their hands on your belly once the incision is made and begin to push the unborn out.

The midwife easily collects the baby and due to its distress quickly cuts the umbilical cord and hands it to a healer.

Feyd sees the motionless grayish blue baby and his heart drops. When he doesn’t hear the cries he grips your hand even tighter in dispair. The healer begins to pat the baby’s back and shift it to clear its lungs as the midwife works to sew you shut.

Finally the cries of the newborn loudly fill the chamber and he sees the baby turn a pink color. Feyd releases the breath he didn’t know he had been holding as his heart swells with emotion.

The healer quickly cleans and wraps the newborn in a black gossamer blanket and places the baby into Feyd’s waiting arms. His eyes widen in awe as he looks at his new baby for the first time.

The infant is magnificent the nose the lips the soft cheeks, he has never seen anything so perfect.

"Our newborn” he whispers looking at the beautiful face feeling the happiness wash over him. He knows you must see right away too and places the baby in your arms but he never removes his hand. You feel the soft head lay on your skin and a wave of love and protectiveness washes over you.

As soon as the newborn feels your skin it reaches its tiny hand out of its bundle. Feyd places his pinky in the newborns grip as it opens its crystal blue eyes. You both let out a gasp at how well the color matches Feyds. The baby stares at you with an intense gaze. “He carries the blood of House Harkonnen." Feyd smiles seeing the resemblance in his son.

"What will you name him?" You ask gazing at the handsomeness of the Harkonnen heir. Feyd waits for the idea to form in his mind momentarily stunted by the enormity of the decision.

“I want him to carry a formidable name that honors mine and begins a new chapter for our lineage.” He confirms placing his hand around the babys soft head holding it lightly

He looks to you as he names your son “Rautha -Dimitri Harkonnen” he declares. It is the name of his maternal grandfather Rautha and his paternal grandfather Dimitri combined. Feyd feels it carries the essence of strength and change befitting of the future ruler.

You tuck your finger under baby Rauthas chin “A worthy name for your son” you smile as Feyd looks to you in agreement.

The news has already spread througout the palace. The reverend mother is dismayed that a second Bene Gesserit has defied the birthing order to have a male. With the Harkonnen genetics in tact she will now search for a compatible female to create the Kswis Haderach.

You knew on that fateful night as you held Feyd sleeping in your arms you wanted to finally escape the Bene Gesserits. You felt they had poisoned your parents all along to keep you and you never forgave them.

You realized having a son would guarantee the safety of your child and to be a Baroness meant your son would one day rule as Baron. All you had to do was keep Feyd pleased.

When you bound him with the Pranu Bindu you chose a word from a pleasant memory in your childhood. One only you would know, and If necessary under dire circumstances would give to the Bene Gessirits.

When Feyds cruelty softened to care on your wedding night you inherently knew he yearned to be nurtured. You strived to care for him and heal his broken psyche ultimately falling in love with him.

Now as the two of you rest together holding your infant you created that night you are overcome with a sense of love and serenity. Feyd presses a kiss to your forehead

"You've given me everything I dreamed of and more" he says marveling at his son’s tiny hand which holds his thumb. You look to Feyd in adoration “You have given me a life I never thought possible. I cherish every moment I have with you Feyd ” you admit caressing his hand which the baby holds.

Baby Rautha slowly drifts to sleep in your arms as you both dote over him “Let me hold him again “ Feyd says with his voice full of compassion.

He slides his hands around baby Rautha and cradles him in his arms. Feyds eyes shine with love as he watches the infant yawn. He presses his face against babies cheek inhaling his sent of sweet milk. You look over at the two of them and smile.

"I love you" Feyd whispers as his eyes briefly look over to yours, his voice is barely audible as he says the words for the first time.

"I love you too, Feyd.“ you finally tell him as your heart overflows with love.

He returns baby Rautha to your arms pressing a kiss to the sleeping infants hand.

Then he stares at your eyes and smiles. He holds your jaw and plants soft kisses on your forehead and on your cheeks finally resting his kiss on your lips.

He leans back and gazes into your eyes with deep devotion as he caresses your jaw. He realizes the three words do not come close to expressing how he truly feels for you but he will say them again and again to express what he can not convey. He is eternally grateful that you are his wife and the mother of his child. He will cherish you for eternity.

War Crimes

After five days of constant care you are strong enough to walk and carry baby Rautha around your palace suite. Your Doulah is nearby remaking the babies cot with fresh gossamer linens, you go to sit on the patio in a newly placed soft arm chair to gaze out at the lake resting baby Rautha in your arms. It is the first morning you have woken up without Feyd.

Before you would open your eyes each day Feyd was already up sitting in the rocking chair with Rautha telling him stories or softly humming Harkonnen war songs to him with his raspy voice.

He preferred you sleep and regain your strength and would dote on the baby at all hours of the night. Anything he couldn’t handle or had yet to learn be would retrieve the Doulah and climb back into bed with you.

He surpassed your skill when it came to swaddle or burp the baby. His technique was flawless as he wrapped baby Rautha into a perfect bundle in the gossamer cloths each time.

After feeding was the only time baby Rautha would make sounds of discomfort. You would try several methods to make him burp before Feyd would signal you to hand him over.

He placed a cloth on his shoulder and picked up baby Rautha gently resting him against his chest. He would pace the room rubbing his small back until the air trapped escaped from his tiny mouth.

He enjoyed fatherhood and as you watched him walk around shirtless holding Rautha it set you at ease. Being a father suited him well and you enjoyed how comfortable he was with his first baby, it made you yearn to fulfill his desire and give him more.

The only reason Feyd was not with you caring for Rautha on this morning is because he was summoned for a meeting with the Emperor.

Feyd sat in the elaborate Emperial office awaiting Emperor Shaddam. He looked around at all of the decorations of conquests for current ruler Shaddam Corrino the IV.

There are books up the walls in shelves as high as the ceiling. A large globe and a telescope are placed near the windows with a view of the palatial waterfalls. Hundreds of trophy’s and relics decorate display cases and pedestals around the room. The planet has been ruled for decades by one man and the magnitude of accumulated objects in his office reflect his reign.

Feyd hears the doors open to the office and stands as Emperor Shaddam enters holding the arm of his daughter Princess Irulans arm for balance.

He gestures Feyd to sit as he is ushered around his desk. He is helped to sit in his gilded chair by Princess Irulan. She kisses her fathers cheek then look up to Feyd “Congratulations on the birth of your son Baron Feyd Rautha “ she says pleasantly with a smile.

Feyd nods in acknowledgement and the Emperor kindly pats her hand “ Thank you my dear that will be all “he says. She smiles at her father and then to Feyd before gracefully leaving the room and shutting the doors.

“How are you feeling “ the Emperor asks with a light smile seeing the tiredness in Feyd’s eyes. “ I am well” Feyd responds briskly “ and the Baroness?” The Emperor implores more. “She is fine” Feyd answers feeling a joy in his heart at your acceptance. “And last but not leastthe excitement of the palace Rautha Dimitri Harkonen!” He says happily clasping his hands together with a jubilant smile. Finally Feyd smirks beaming with pride. “ he is my honor and heir” Feyd remarks fondly.

“Well I don’t want to keep you from them during such a precious time so I will get straight to the point” the Emperors smile fades as he opens his desk drawer retrieving a metal inscribed cylinder. He places it on the desk in front of Feyd.

“I received this on the day your son was born as if it was destiny. Even though I knew the say would come I could not bear to read the words and dropped it to the ground in front of of my daughter and my advisors in the garden. Princess Irulan retrieved it and was also in shock seeing the words” the Emperor relays.

Feyd picks up the metallic cylinder reading the first line

-The Tribunal for War Crimes of Emperor Shaddam Corino IV- stand out with the biggest lettering. Feyd sets the cylinder back down.

“The day after tomorrow I will be tried and convicted. The amount of evidence is substantial and kept so meticulously by your uncle. Most of the correspondences come from his personal office which must’ve been near impossible to retrieve for a spy.” Feyd clasps his hands and presses his fingers to his lips hiding the smile of his cleverness.

“With my final Emperial decree I wish you make you Emperor Feyd Rautha. I am old and frail and my daughter was unable to join with a compatible house.

The great houses all respect you and your generosity they will have no problem with this change. With the improvements you have made on Giedi Prime and Arrakis my people will have no resentment either.”

The Emperor then looks Feyd in the eyes with severity. “Will you allow me to officiate the coronation in two days time and hand over my Empire to you in a small ceremony before I am dethroned . It would give me great honor and restore the dignity I have lost in my old age during my reign.”

Feyd rests back in his chair and thinks on it before speaking “What does the ceremony entail?”

The emperor reaches in to his desk with a prepared list and summarizes its contents

“In the throne room you and your wife will be seated in front of the entirety of the Emperial court in a private ceremony. I will kneel to you and relinquish my power .”

He explains as her places the paper on Feyd side to study further.

As Feyd looks over the list the Emperor makes a request.

“When I relinquish my power to you I would ask of you two things;

First take care for my daughter Irulan and ensure she is safe. I will be exiled to Salusa Secundus and she may choose to join me there but her life here will be far better as a princess of Kaitan.

Secondly please show me leniency I will never plot to diminish your reign in any way.” He relents.

The Emperor slowly stands to see if Feyd will make the agreement final. Feyd stands with the Emperor and bows honoring his wishes. The Emperor weakly smiles understanding the gravity of his current situation and dismisses Feyd to return to his new family. He believes Feyd will make a fine Emperor in his stead.

Feyd finds you on the suite patio and quietly watches as you nurse his son. You look so serene and natural to him your eyes sparkling with joy as you coo at his infant latched and drinking milk.

Feyd's feels a wave of emotions watching the tender moment between the two of you. He steps out onto the patio making his presence known and comes to kneels down in front of you watching as you continue to nurse baby Rautha. "You're such a good mother," he says with his voice soft and filled with admiration. He trails his finger on Rauthas soft cheek watching him drink.

You look up at Feyd as a warm smile spreads across your lips. “ We missed you here this morning” you tell him lovingly.

“ I missed both you you as well” He admits as his heart swells with the feeling of being loved. He had never imagined he could live like this and marvels at how far you two have come together.

Baby Rautha finishes nursing and unlatches his small mouth. You tuck your breast away and snuggle him closer. He begins to wiggle and his face pinks slightly as he makes a small sound of discomfort.

“Let me have him” Feyd says knowing what he needs. You hand him over and Feyd stands swaying with the infant in his arms. The baby squirms feeling uncomfortable from the trapped air until Feyd pats it free.

The baby spittles on Feyd’s shoulder making you laugh. “Oh Feyd I forgot to hand you the cloth!” You say giving it to him late. ”It’s fine” Feyd says with a smile looking over at baby Rauthas chin wet with escaped milk.

He gently switches the baby to his left shoulder and dabs his chin clean. Then drapes the cloth over his right shoulder and replaces Rautha there

“How was your meeting with the Emperor” you ask already having an idea of what was discussed but wanting to hear the answer from his lips.

Feyd sits in the chair next to you on the patio and holds the sleeping infant Rautha to gaze at the beautiful baby in his lap.

“It is as you wished I will be Emperor. I will rule all of the great houses and control the two greatest armies in the galaxy. We will be free to do as we wish.” He looks over at you and smiles.

You smile in return as the reality sets in and you look out over the lake . You will own the entire palace. You sink back in your chair stunned, your son will be the future emperor now and Feyd made it all possible.

“I am eternally grateful for what you have done Feyd” you admit in astonishment. “In two days time we will be coronated here by Empeor Shaddam.” He says now staring out at the lake realizing the impact of his actions. You stand from your chair to be infront of him and place your hands on his armrests. You lean in and kiss his lips seeing how lost in thought he is. “ Emperor Feyd Rautha” you say seductively making him smile.

Emperor Feyd Rautha

You all awaken in the early morning as the sun rises and are helped by several servants to dress. It is Feyds coronation day as Emperor.

Feyd forgoes the traditional Kaitan white tunic and wears a velvet black high neck long sleeved one instead. It is lined with black Harkonenn gemstones.

You wear a black corseted grown with golden appliqués covering your neck and shoulders as well as your cuffs and hem. Baby Rautha wears a black baby tunic matching to his father’s and is wrapped in a shimmering gold swaddle.

The procession is led by Emperor Shaddam wearing a silver tunic. He enters the throne room first carrying a golden scepter. The three of you follow him inside to see the room is filled with dignitaries and leaders of the great houses as well as the imperial court. Every golden seat is filled on either side of the white and gold precession rug leading to the thrones.

You clutch Feyds arm tighter and hold the baby closer as your nerves rise. Rautha sleeps bundled peacefully in your arms.

The thrones on the raised ruling platform are surrounded by pillars of palatial garden flowers. Two orchestras are seated at the ground level of either side and wait on queue to play.

The emperor carefully climbs the golden steps leading to his sacred ruling space for the final time.

The stairs are lined with garden florals in a beautiful display. He stands at his ruling space smiling and gestures Feyd permission to enter as the new ruler. Feyd takes your hand from around his arm and helps you climb the stairs.

The room is silent as you both stand infront of the Emperor and bow. Shaddam slowly bows to Feyd unable to kneel as customary due to his age. A round of applause begins from the rows of guests in attendance as they witness the exchange of power. The sound awakens baby Rautha as the next part of the procession begins.

Count Fenring bows at the base of the stairs and is permitted to bring a pillow with the golden Emperial signet ring. He carries it up and bows to Feyd again before standing next to Emperor Shaddam.

The Emperor takes the ring and holds the weight of it for the last time. Feyd slips his silver Barons ring from his pinky and instead of placing it on the ceremonial pillow he turns to baby Rautha placing the ring in his infants reaching hand “Hold this for Uncle Rabban” he says sweetly as the baby grasps it.

He then turns and accepts the ring from Shaddam which has already been fitted for his pinky.

Shaddam then lifts his golden scepter placing it across his hands and bows his head offering it to Feyd who accepts.

Rounds of applause begin to fill the room as everyone stands in jubilation for the momentous occasion. The orchestra begins to play a rousing classical Kaitan melody.

You and Feyd take your thrones as Emperor and Empress with your son Prince Rautha.

Shaddam Corino is helped down the stairs by Count Fenring they both turn and bow in reverence.

You look over to Feyd smiling, you are so proud of him. He grasps your hand placing a kiss on your knuckles and looks over your beautiful signet ring as Empress. “So be it” he says smiling remembering your conversation as the force which pushed his decision.

He caresses Baby Rauthas soft head and gestures to hold him. You hand over the baby to Feyd and the cheers erupt even louder from the audience that he already has an heir.

This is only the private ceremony for his coronation there will be a banquet following in the evening and within a few weeks time the public parade in celebration of his reign at the capital.

A Holy Shrine

Six moths after Feyd’s momentous coronation on Kaitan you arrive to the planet of LankerVille in the much larger Empirical Space craft. It has every amenity possible with servants throughout.

Feyd has summoned his brother Rabban to join who arrives from Geidi Prime in his palatial ship as the new Baron. Both space crafts land adjacent to the courtyard of the former leaders home.

As you approach the former governors mansion carrying Rautha not a word is uttered as you follow Feyd and Rabban to go inside.

They push open the large red doors and you enter into an enormous abandoned throne room. Everything is bare and gray.

“I want it made into a Holy Shrine” Feyd finally says to Rabban once he explores the vacant room. You and Rabban watch as Feyd walks to the center and kneels on the floor in a certain place.

You look to Rabban in curiosity. “Why does he kneel here?” You ask under your breath unsure if it is a Harkonnen custom. Rabban stares blankly ahead. “ His mother was slain there…our father and mother were killed in this very room“ Rabban corrects himself.

The air is sucked out of your lungs you had no idea. Rabban peers over at you realizing you were never told because Feyd will never tell you. He understands then that he should. But he struggles to find the softening words so he just tells the truth.

“Years ago when he was a boy and I was a young man our uncle ordered us to kill our parents here”

Your eyes widen in shock as you clutch your chest and become dizzy with the devastating information. It takes you several moments to collect yourself. “But…Why?” Is all you can weakly get out.

“Our parents hid us away and changed our last names to Rabban. This was the punishment for betrayal of the Harkonnen lineage” Rabban admits.

You try to calm your breathing as baby Rautha becomes fussy on your hip sensing your distress. Then you realize his grandmother and grandfather were slain in this very room by his father and uncle.

It becomes too much for you to bear and you flee from the throne room heading out into the fresh air of the courtyard. You take deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

Baby Rauthas carer and Feyd’s guards watch as you try to collect your self. Rauthas carer comes and gently collects him from your shaking arms.

“Empress perhaps you should rest I don’t like the looks of your condition“ she says with concern watching the way you blankly stare at the ground shaking. You wave her back “Take Rautha to the ship I will only be a moment.” You command her. The carer takes Rautha to eat and play while you gather yourself.

You shudder realizing this day would come and how little you know of your husband. The fact he would bring your child here shakes you to your core.

His brother was so callous in the way he told you and it makes you realize how cruel the Harkonnens are and that Feyd is the one with the most emotional intellect.

Both men emerge from the mansion. You put on a brave face though your eyes are sad, you feel a rise of pity in your chest as you look at them. You cant even begin to imagine the torment they went through.

Feyd beckons you to come to him and you take his hand as you join his side.

“Rabban will stay for dinner on our craft to spend time with us before he heads back to Geidi Prime” Feyd conveys as he studies your eyes. He sees how sad they are as you gaze into his . You feel a wave of emotion and softly hug him then start sobbing against his neck. He pets down your hair to calm you.

“Empress do not fret I know you are overcome with emotion now but everything will be made right.” He says gently and places his hands to see your tear streaked face. He uses his thumbs to wipe the tears from your eyes. “Go and prepare for dinner you need to eat” he says gently.

You nod and realize this must be very hard for him and he just wants to enjoy a dinner with his family, perhaps even in honor of his parents.

You quickly wipe your eyes and enter the Emperial space craft. You clean your face in the main suite just in time to join in everyone at the dinner table.

As you enter the dining room Rabban is seated at the foot of the table with little Rautha on his lap. Rabban is smiling and teasing little Rautha speaking gibberish before tickling his stomach. Rautha shrieks of laughter make you smile.

You sit at Feyd right and he takes your hand tracing his thumb across your knuckles “Are you alright now Empress?” He asks with a warm smile, you gently nod.

Dinner is placed in front of everyone. Herb seared filet from the lakes of Lankerville.

Little Rautha is sat upon his careers lap to the left side of his father as she feeds him his first bite of fish.

“Do you like it?” Feyd asks him gleefully and Rautha nods smiling with his gums making Feyd chuckle.

“And you Rabban?” Feyd yells down the table. Rabban lifts his fork still chewing . “It is good“ he says once his mouth is free.

Rabban looks at your plate seeing it is all vegetables and laughs. “ What the Empress does not like it?” He teases and you smile.

“Ask her how many children she plans to have” Feyd says grinning.

Rabban drops his fork to the table. “ NO! It is not possible brother !” He exclaims.

Rabban stands up and charges to Feyds side of the table making Feyd get up block him playfully “Don’t you dare touch her!” Feyd says pushing him back. Rabban laughs maniacally “I wouldn’t dare touch your female especially with your unborn.” Rabban confirms.

He looks to your abdomen as Feyd helps you stand. Rabban bows his head in reverence “congratulations Empress“ he says and is too stunned to say anything else just staring at your abdomen in disbelief.

You speak up breaking the silence “Thank you Rabban now please eat and enjoy this lovely dinner.” you say kindly. He smiles to you and then Feyd returning to his seat happily shaking his head at how quickly his brother already has you pregnant again with a second unborn. You all eat together with jovial conversation for the entirety of the meal.

After Rabban leaves your ship the Emperial craft ascends from the planet of Lankerville heading back to Kaitan.

You stand over the crib of sleeping Rautha and caress his soft cheek before pulling his blanket higher on his chest, there is a chill in the craft as it heads through space and you want him to be warm. “Will you fetch him a gossamer blanket” you ask his carer and she readily nods preparing to watch over him through the night in his room.

You head back to the main chamber and place your hand in the reader to open the doors. It is darkened but an enormous window illuminates the large room with starlight.

Feyd stands looking out of it with his hands clasped behind his back. When he hears the doors he knows you are there and looks over his shoulder offering his hand to you.

He is shirtless even though the craft is so cold. You take his hand and he places you infront of him to gaze at the stars together.

“I’ve asked the controller to slow the ship so we can see the stars for an hour before we go to trans light speed” he says against your ear as he holds you closely to him. “They are beautiful” you say already mesmerized by the billions of flickering lights.

He pulls your hair over your shoulder planting a kiss there “Emperor and Empress” he says placing another kiss your neck “wealthiest family in the galaxy” he says pulling you closer against him. “What would you like to do next” he asks smiling against your ear.

You turn over your shoulder to look into his eyes as you answer “Raise our children on Kaitan” you confirm with a loving gaze. “So be it “ he says planting a soft kiss on your lips. “And what about for the next hour?” He asks seductively as he grins with a knowing smile.

The End

Thank you for completing the series! Here is my Upcoming Fics List if you enjoy my writing and the Feyd Fantasy Series Masterlist to read all over again

⚔️ Feyd Fic Taglist ⚔️

@faegoddessog @burnthheparaphilia @elvismylove04 @lindszeppelin @obsessedvibee @abswifey @jessica987 @hardcoredisneynerd @austiebuttbutt @oh-my-front-door @slowsweetlove @purejasmine @i5uckersblog @phil2135561 @lovereadingfanfic @steph-speaks @rougegenshin @maloribarnes1999 @meetmeatyourworst @moony-artemis @xxxstormyninixxx @prettypinkblogger @thegabbyh @magicovento @aoi-targaryen @austinswhitewolf @skinny-baby-4eva @mimsie95 @the-wanderer-2022 @jakesullyissopookie @francis-writes @shiranai-atsune @berlinalv @everyonelovesavalet @dacreshoney @caroline334 @szapizzapanda @berlinalv @landlockedmermaid77 @moonsoulk @sophroniaclark @emeraldsgirl @aaaaaaamond @cooliosthings @mcmisbehaving

[hydrangea-mon-amor]

Yandere Vampire

Yandere Male! x AFAB! Reader

Trigger warning! Yandere behavior, obsessive behavior

A/N: Okay it’s been like…a couple of months since I last updated a fic (sorry about that) but I couldn’t help but write this idea down, it has been plaguing my mind ever since I had thought of it. (Which was literally a few hours ago…) anyways, no official title because I’m not sure if this will be a permanent character but please do enjoy the story. (If you can)

Summary! You acted stupid and went into the only Forest you shouldn’t have gone into, to your luck (if we can even call it that) you ran into the Duke Osborne who has insisted you stay the night in his manner lest you be a pray to the creatures roaming in the forest. (He is the creature btw)

Side note — if you read the trigger warning and still were triggered by the content (or any that I’ve wrote) please message me ASAP and tell me about it. I DO NOT condone this behavior.

Duke Osborne sits in front of you,

You mentally curse yourself, you just had to have ignored your fathers wishes and ventured pass the safe grounds of your home. The breath you wish to let out protest against the folds of your lips. You expected some sort of activity to occur in the forest, but you hadn’t expected Lord Osborne to be there as well.

his hands lay comfortably on the table, you sat in apprehension.

“I hear you are the Barons offspring? Such a shame I hadn’t been blessed to see your visage sooner.”

“Duke Osborne—“

“Please, no need for civilities here. Address me casually, just Aloysius is fine.” He tosses a smile, the dazzle of his eyes gleaming down at you. It is peculiar, you don’t think he looks at you as if it were antagonistic, but you couldn’t help but feel cornered.

“Aloysius…you are very kind to allow me a room at your estate for the night, I appreciate it very much.”

“Do you now?”

You gulp.

“Y-yes, since I am the offspring of only a Baron and nothing else, I am not used to, nor think, that I am deserving of such catered treatment.”

The Duke frowns.

“Not deserving?” His query comes out like that of a saddened child, you fiddle with your fingers, unsure of how to answer such a tone.

“Well I…” you straighten your posture. “I don’t mean to speak negatively about myself, but it is common knowledge that the power a Baron or Baroness holds is not that of a Duke or Duchess. I know my station in society, and know of the role I must fit into to adequately play it. It is of no inconvenience to me, so really, a Duke such as yourself shouldn’t be worried with frivolous matters.” Aloysius twirls the spoon in his tea. He has a specific analytic gaze to him, one you feel positively scanned by.

“Is that all? Don’t you feel some sort of resentment for the way society looks down on you compared to other nobles?”

“I do not care for that lifestyle, if I can be happy in life, then that is all I need to be contented.”

“Even if you were as lowly as the offspring of a bastard.”

“Even then.”

He takes a minute to compile his thoughts, but as quick as one would imagine, he resumes his air of chivalry and charm.

You jolt, not expecting for the Duke to clasp his hands quite loudly that it echoed throughout the dining room of his estate.

“Very well then, you amuse me Y/N.” You look at him quizzically.

“Apologies, I don’t think I ever gave you my name.”

“You didn’t have to, I know the names of every resident in this estate.”

“Resident? Pardon me Aloysius, but I am merely a guest.”

“Of course.”

The Duke continues on with his meal, glancing at you a couple times to make sure you had your fill. You can’t say you quite enjoy the Dukes presence, but you do appreciate his effort in assuring your comfort.

This quiet would not last.

“I wonder, do you know of the tale spoken for the Forest of Naught?”

You chuckle uncomfortably, “how could I not?”

It was impossible, you thought, for a child of this kingdom to have not heard it. It’s rhymes are Ingrained to the child it passes over to, until it passes on to the next, and then to the next and on and on it goes.

You can recite it by heart.

In a forest called Naught, where darkness reigns,

Existing creatures man cannot rid nor tame.

A plague they are, with fangs as sharp as knives,

Skin pale as moonlight, eyes aflame with red.

Their feast, the tender essence of your blood,

Teeth sinking deep into sweet flesh so raw.

No care for you, they crave the crimson flood,

Their only longing, for your lifeblood's draw.

These creatures possess powers to deceive,

Morphing their form to appear just like us.

But in reflection, true nature they conceive,

A ghastly visage, causing hearts to fuss.

They shun the light, abhor the sun's bright beams,

Yet thrive by night, fulfilling their dark dreams.

In shadows deep, their wickedness takes flight,

Within the veil of night, their hunger stirs.

No mercy shown, no solace in their sight,

They prey upon the innocent, like curses.

“What is your opinion of it?”

“My opinion?” You take a while to form an answer you’d think he would respond best to. “Well, I think it is definitely something the children could be frightened by—“

You believe you are dreaming, the Duke, Aloysius Osborne, is laughing.

“The children? Truly, a forest as mysterious as this and you think of the children?” You do not think the Duke capable of shedding tears, but here’s he is now, wiping away the tears forming at the baseline of his eyelids.

“I stand by my statement.” Your arms press forth on the table. “Those creatures, whatever they may be called, it’d be horrible if they feast on innocent children.”

“I suppose so, but not every child is innocent.” Aloysius makes motion for a glass of wine to be brought, and it is like magic how a servant is already to his aid. You watch tenderly, eyes fixed at the action in hand. In your opinion, the wine looks a little distasteful. Too red, you thought, but you had not the reason to speak it aloud.

“I would offer you a glass but this wine isn’t any that you have tasted before, I can assure you this.”

“Really now?”

He inclines his head to a nod, “not as sweet as regular wine, tastes quite like iron to the normal civilian, but what can I say? I have an expensive taste.”

You shift in your seat “Well, Duke, my interest is piqued.”

“No civilities!” He whined, almost knocking the glass in the process. Having realized what he had done, he is quick to manage himself. “Apologies, I as an individual simply just abhor honorifics.”

Liar.

“Please just address me by my name, it’ll please me greatly.”

“Excuse my negligence, I’ll keep that in mind for the future.”

For the remainder of your meal, you dine uncertainly. The food you taste is exceptional in taste, but it almost feels bland. You can’t say you would feel any better with the Dukes gaze looming over you like a watchful hawk. Can’t to think of it, why did the Dukes eyes appear more red than his normal chestnut hue? You can’t point the science behind it. And perhaps it is just your wishful thinking, but you never noticed, or thought, the Dukes skin to be so naturally pale. Frankly, it’s color is akin to that of moonlight.

What an odd thing to note.

You say not a single word to him, growing apprehension if he’d take the word and turn it into a working conversation. Even though you are the child of a Baron, and have been educated, you still are not quite adept to socializing compared to your peers.

That is until you start to feel drowsy.

“Please excuse me, but I fear I am succumbing to sleep. Could you please walk me to the room I will be sleeping in for the night?” Without a word, Aloysius rises to his feet, discarding the remainder of his meal. It is odd, for such a lofty meal he managed to finish each glass of wine he obtained.

You wondered why he hadn’t touched the garlic at all…

“Of course, follow me.”

You stand, dusting off the dirt that remain on your clothes. You look at him, and take note of how precisely he is gazing at you.

You shake off the feeling.

You arrive at his side, and generously, he leads you without a word. But you must be honest with yourself, the whole time you ventured through his walls it had almost felt like the phantom touch of a hand was latching onto you.

He yawns, you believe sleep has anchored him too.

“It’s such a shame.” He whined. “I would have loved to dance with you in my ballroom.”

“Aloysius there is no need—“

“I protest. You know full well that my family, Osborne, has danced with the guest of their house before they leave for the night or leave for home. I’d be disrespecting tradition if I hadn’t had even one dance with you.”

Flattery will do you no good.

“I have never been instructed.”

“Pardon me?”

You hesitate, “dancing, it has never come naturally to me and my family hadn’t harbor the sufficient funds to acquire a teacher. But considering my prowess regarding the art, I don’t think I’d be of any good even with the paid help.”

“You can always learn.”

“And with what help, if I might ask?”

“With mine, naturally.”

Your cheeks dust red.

“I cannot trouble you like this.”

“It is of no trouble, please share just one dance.”

In high society, people would think you frivolous if you were to refuse the good natured will of a Duke, considering your title as the child of a Baron, you have no societal standing to reject him. In other words, you are completely and utterly trapped.

“I suppose one would do adequately.” The Duke smiles at you, and perhaps you hadn’t seen him enough in all the parties you were fortunate enough to attend, but he didn’t look as happy and content as he did now.

Oh.

You squint.

Why did the front of his teeth look more like protruding canines instead of regular molars?

Whatever, forget it.

He leads you to his ballroom, the scenery draped in blood red curtains and the floor a sinister black. The area exudes a treacherous aura but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enticed.

It is practically instantaneous that music started to flow into the room. You can only guess that he intended for this to happen from the very beginning and had a servant stationed here for the time being.

“Do you mind if I call your name with a term of endearment?”

You’re startled.

“Your pardon?”

“You know, how wedded couples address each other. Love, darling, sweetie?”

Dread builds in the pits of your stomach.

“Please—I must protest! We have only been acquainted with each other for a few hours!” The Dukes lips purse into a frown.

“Is this your rejection to my proposal of us becoming friends?”

“My Lord—I mean, Aloysius, you must realize that friends don’t simply just refer to each other with such…compounded words!”

There seems to be a looks of realization smearing onto his face.

“Ah, so you mean to tell me that only wedded couples do so?” You exhale, relieved that he is starting to come to sense.

“Right then, apologies with my forwardness.” He hasn’t looked sympathetic at all.

“It’s quite alright.

Aloysius seizes the lead, you think it abnormal, how elegantly he moves through the dance. His long and graceful body forces you to admire it.

“I must confess I was lying.”

Your eyes widen.

“And what what would that be, exactly?”

“I lied to you when I eluded to the fact that I never got the pleasure to see your face. In actuality, I have seen it quite a few dozen times.” You try not to make the stilling of your body too noticeable. “My sister, Duchess Akosua, you may have heard of her, has helped me greatly in seeing you.”

You try to be careful and strategic with how you phrase you sentence.

“In what way, if I may ask?”

“You sleepwalk, Y/N. On many occasions you would wind up in the heart of The Forest of Naught.”

Now, you do not care if it is obvious of your body stilling.

“Of course, you must ask why I had been there too, especially since you sleepwalk quite often.”

You gulp. “H-how often?”

“Ah, I’d say three a four times a week.”

Impossible….

“Y-you were there? Every time?”

“Yes, yes I was.”

You start to hyperventilate.

“B-but why?”

Aloysius looks at you, and it is the kind of look most similar to that of admiration.

“You are just too adorable.” He adds, unable to contain his smile. “But if I were to answer your question…” He leans down, his head level to your ear, and his lips level to your neck. “It is because I am one of the creature of the forest.”

You cry in pain as he bites into you.

You wake in a soft bed, your neck throbbing and your body in only undergarments.

Your eyes widen.

By your side is Duke Aloysius Osborne, his eyes a chilling red and fangs protruding from his lips.

“Ah your awake, how splendid!” He speaks to you as if you are a revered treasure. “For a second I feared I drank too much blood from you, good to know that it was just enough.

“I…I…”

“You must be too frightened, considering your incapability to speak. Don’t be worried, I have decided that you are too precious to discard.”

You force yourself to answer.

“W-what—what do you mean?”

“I mean that I am taking you as my spouse.” He smiles kindly, lending a hand to caress your cheek.

You shiver.

“No need for embarrassment my darling rose, I intend for us to be deeply aquatinted with one another.”

—

A/N: okay, I hope this story was enough to suffice for the next couple of days before I release the next one. I do intend to come back and post more actively, sorry for the long hiatus. Also the poem from this story was generated from an ai (lmao) have a good day my loves.