#grand duke paul

[thepaleys]

Vladimir Paley at the Corps des Pages - Part 1

But Volodia's childhood was soon to be over. The grand duke wanted his younger son to follow the dynastic tradition of an army career, and in that same year, 1908, the little Count von Hohenfelsen became a student at the Corps-des-Pages, the Saint Petersburg military school for aristocratic youngsters. Half-ignored by his imperial relatives, he lived in the house of his tutor Colonel Alexander Nikolaiveich Fenu. Both Colonel Fenu and his wife Alya Vladimirovna were very kind to the boy. For Vladimir, suddenly deprived of the loving atmosphere of his family, and forced to face an unknown world, his first days in the Corps-des-Pages were dreadful. He had no military vocation, spoke poor Russian and felt completely out of place in the often rude environment of the school. In his letters to his family, he complained bitterly about his life in the barracks, remembered his Parisian days with nostalgia and dreamed to get out of the school to visit exotic and legendary places. He longed for Easter, summer and Christmas vacations when he was allowed to spend with the family in France or traveling to varied places in Western Europe.

Throughout his stay in the Corps-des-Pages, Volodia continued privately to school himself in painting and music. And it was around 1910 during his first years in the dreaded school, when the young Count von Hohenfelsen started to write poetry, a vocation that never would abandon him. His mother wrote: "Ever since the age of thirteen Vladimir had been writing delightful verses… Each time he returned home his poetic talent displayed itself more decidedly… He availed himself of every free moment to devote his mind to his cherished poetry. By temperament a dreamer, he observed everything and nothing escaped his subtle, watchful attention… He loved nature ardently. He went into ecstasy over everything God had created. A moonbeam inspired him, the scent of a flower gave him an idea for a poem. He had a prodigious memory. What he knew, what he had time to read in his short life, was truly marvelous. Vladimir wrote his first verses in French, the language most familiar to him at that time. The few ones published by Jacques Ferrand in his biography of Grand Duke Paul (Agonie, Les miettes, Indifference, Chanson de Therese, Le Chemineau, Vieillesse), written in 1913, show an already remarkable talent for images and versification, as well as deep feeling. Until this day, however, most of his French poetry remains unpublished in his relatives' archives in France or the archives of the Russian Federation, along with some poetry he wrote in English.

Gradually, the young count got used to the life in the Corps- des-Pages and even started to enjoy it, a situation that probably was encouraged by his progress in Russian, a language he eventually learned with perfection. His letters home became much more joyful. He also found good friends among his classmates who called him Goghen, a russified abbreviation for Hohenfelsen.31 Some of them would perish during the first World War and be remembered by Vladimir in sad verses.

"A Poet Aming the Romanovs" - Jorge F. Sáenz

[crazykotyara12]

Gatchina, 1795.

[loiladadiani]

Young Grand Duke Sergey Alexandrovich and Irina Maltzeva

The young woman in the picture with the Grand Duke was a friend and the daughter of one of his mother’s ladies in waiting. (Please note that what I am going to write below ostensibly comes from “the diary” of the Grand Duke and also from letters between Serge and Paul. My understanding was that Serge’s papers had been destroyed by Ella before she took the veil. I am aware of the contradiction but who knows if Paul had documents of Serge’s…bottom line, I will not outright say that this information is fictitious but I can not vouch for it. Perhaps it is just a pleasant fantasy. I am taking the story as apocryphal.)

Apparently the young Serge went to say goodbye to her before going to war and she gave him a little cross that said “don't be afraid, just believe.” When he came back from war he went to see young Ina and describes their meeting as very emotional. Apparently Ina and her mother traveled to Italy with Serge and his mother. Irina also had tuberculosis.

Ina died in 1883. Sergei wrote to his brother Paul “…how sad that poor darling Ina is no more!… with her also a long line of wonderful memories disappears…” Apparently Serge remained friends with Irina’s brother Nicholas for the rest of his life and after Serge died, Nicholas continued to visit Ella.

[lesyoussoupoff]

Group photo c. 1890

[royal-confessions]

“The two eldest sons of Emperor Pavel I (Aleksandr and Konstantin) were terribly ugly because they physically resembled him, whereas the two youngest (Nikolay and Mikhail) were more beautiful because they did not resemble him physically.” - Submitted by Anonymous

[postcard-from-the-past]

Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich of Russia, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna of Russia, with 2 children of Grand Duke Paul Alexandrovich of Russia: Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna of Russia and Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia

Russian vintage postcard

[crescenthistory]

in the silence, there is an us

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Throughout their lives, Paul and reader have often found themselves in each other's bed. Childish games after bedtime, late-night studying sessions, nightmares, and a burning need to not be apart.

Part of Paul's point of view can be read here: "you are my favourite silence"

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: not proofread, possibly some inaccuracies about plot details (have not watched dune in ages, i'm just obsessed with paul), best friends to lover, tension, light angst, jessica being a bit rude, reader being an orphan and of a lower social rank, duke leto's death (rip), lots of cuddles and lingering touches, fluff, the whole deal

***

The grand halls of Castle Caladan always had an eerie stillness after sunset. The select servants walked quietly, the sound of waves crashing below barely made its way through the stone walls, and the Duke and Lady Jessica kept to their quarters. For Paul and you, though, this was the perfect time to sneak past the sternness of bedtime. The day never seems long enough for young children whose eyes are still filled with stars.

“Come on!” Paul’s whisper was loud, almost too loud for sneaking around, but you didn’t think long enough to care. The thrill of the game was enough to make both of your hearts race. You were barefoot, your steps making soft thuds against the cool floor as you tiptoed through the hall toward his room.

“If we get caught—” you whispered, but Paul cut you off with a grin.

“We won’t. Besides, who can stop us?”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky confidence. He wasn’t wrong, though. You had never been good at staying still, at obeying the invisible rules set up by adults. With no living relatives to share your name, Paul was more than just a best friend – he was all you had. Him and Duke Leto, whose unwavering sense of duty made him take you in at the Castle when your parents died on a mission he orchestrated. Responsibility above all else, all the qualities he aimed at instilling in his young son. And it couldn’t hurt Paul to have a friend his own age, could it? 

You slipped into his room, both of you giggling like you’d just played the best prank on his sleeping parents. His bed was huge for a 7-year-old, more space than one boy could ever need regardless of his nobility. Tonight, it was your playground, stretching for miles.

Paul scrambled up first, then turned and offered you his hand. “Bet you I can jump higher than you,” he said, a challenge clear in his eyes.

You took his hand, pulling yourself up and laughing as the two of you bounced on the mattress, trying to outdo each other in height and bravery. You weren’t worried about waking anyone. Even if Duke Leto found you – and he often did – his stern reprimands were laced with amusement.

This was not the first time the two children had snuck into each other’s rooms after dark, the activity becoming more habit than occasion. Nights like this were your shared rebellion, a refusal to let the day end just because the sun had gone down, just because Jessica had tucked Paul into bed an hour earlier for bedtime.

Eventually, after you had worn yourselves out, you collapsed side by side on the bed, your breaths heavy from laughter. You stared up at the ceiling, still giggling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“I don’t want it to be bedtime ever again,” Paul said, his voice soft, almost wistful.

You turned your head to look at him, sprawled out on the massive mattress, dark hair in his eyes that reflected the dim moonlight streaming through the window. You understood exactly what he meant.

“Me neither,” you replied with a smile. Your hand found his under the covers.

Neither of you moved as your true bedtime took over, the quiet settling in around you, comfortable and warm. You fell asleep like that, fingers intertwined, with no concept of what it meant to have boundaries. There was just Paul, and you, and the night that was never long enough.

  ***

In the wake of your early teens at the castle, sneaking into each other’s rooms had become less about rebellion and more about comfort. The innocence of bouncing on beds and stifled laughter gave way to whispered conversations in the dark and the shared weight of fears neither of you quite understood yet.

The first time Paul came to your room because of a nightmare, it startled you. You were just about to drift off when you heard the soft creak of your door, followed by the quiet patter of feet. You jerked up from the mess of blankets, blinking into the darkness. Confusion and perhaps a bit of fear grasped you, until you saw his silhouette standing near the edge of your bed.

“Paul?” you whispered, straightening up. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first, he didn’t know how. With his tense expression and shadows playing across his face, he looked haunted despite his still small, boy-like frame. You knew him in and out by now, and could clearly read the signs of his nails digging into the skin of his fingers, breathing shallow and uneven. 

“Can I stay?” His voice was rougher than usual, like he was barely holding it together.

“Of course.”

You didn’t ask any questions, it was a silent understanding. Instead, you lifted the blanket, making room for him. He crawled in without hesitation, laying his head on the pillow on your left. His body rigid beside yours for a moment before he relaxed, the tension slowly draining away.

Lying there, you listened to the sound of his breathing steadying, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you, arm against arm. It was quiet, but not silent – the kind of quiet that only existed when you knew someone else was there with you. Someone who understood. Someone who would never judge you for being afraid.

In his newfound safety, Paul drifted off easier than he could in his own bed. Yours was significantly smaller, but somehow softer, and he could actually feel the weight of you beside him on the mattress. He could ground himself in your presence. When he fell asleep, his head fell slightly to the side, his hair brushing against your cheek. 

You, on the other hand, stayed awake a little longer, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. 

You’d always been each other’s rock, but now, something was different. The comfort you found in his presence was deeper, more profound. It wasn’t just about not wanting to be alone anymore, it was about needing him specifically. It brought a smile to your face to know that he found that same assurance in you.

***

The weights on your shoulders materialised and became clearer as you grew beside each other. At sixteen, the favours Duke Leto had bestowed upon you by allowing you residence and education at Caladan felt like a debt more than a blessing. One you had to repay through excellence, through true devotion to any and all training given to you. While Paul tried to seem more lighthearted about it all, it could be felt in the air all the same. You were no longer just two children sneaking around a castle that seemed to never end. You were a future duke and a noblewoman-in-training, navigating a world that seemed to have its eyes on you at every moment.

To earn your gifted title and position and prove yourself worthy of your place as Paul’s friend, you poured over every textbook your teachers assigned you. The study of Caladan, of politics, traditions and customs occupied your mind to the extent that you neglected the occupant of your heart. 

Yet, at late hours, it was always Paul’s bedroom floor the pair found themselves splayed across. 

Sheets of notes, pens and books layed on top of themselves in a system neither of you could have been able to explain to an outsider. Paul against the wall with his notebook, you stomach-down on the carpet, nose buried between the words in your textbook.

“You’re going to wear yourself out.” Paul’s words were muttered, watching you through tired eyes.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just one more chapter.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“I mean it this time.”

Paul didn’t argue, but you could feel his eyes on you as you worked, his presence a quiet comfort beside you. It had become routine, the two of you studying together, you claimed you worked better that way. Paul occasionally asking questions while you tried to focus on your own work but more often than not, you ended up helping him instead of yourself.

Your one-more-chapter became two more as you tried to retain the information, but your eyelids grew heavier, your focus slipping. The same sentence became burned into your retinas without making much more sense.

Ever so slowly, your head was brought closer and closer to the ink. Eventually it was all you could see before your cheek hit the page – you were out as a light.

Paul watched you for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. This was not the first time. He closed his own book and moved quietly to your side. He brought a finger up to brush some of your hair out of your face before he rolled you over. Gently, he lifted you, careful not to wake you as he carried you to the bed. His bed.

It had almost become part of the routine, he watches you exhaust yourself and then ensures you get the rest you deserve. He had done this before, but each time, it made his chest tighten more in ways he didn’t fully understand.

As he laid you down delicately, he hesitated by your side for just a moment, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the peaceful expression on your face. He didn’t realise how often he found himself staring at you like this, wondering when the girl who used to be his playmate had become someone he couldn’t stop thinking about. Someone he wanted to protect, to keep close, even as you worked yourself to the bone. He wanted to tell you you didn’t have to, that he knew and that you were enough. Instead, he let his instinct win and lightly caressed the soft flesh of your arm.

After a brief pause, Paul pulled the covers over you and sat on your edge of the bed for a while longer. He was tired himself, but he didn’t want to move. Not just yet.

***

The past few months felt as if they stretched on for years with how much change and development you were faced with, almost forcefully. Despite your efforts, the older you got, the more you felt like a young girl attempting to parade as a grown woman ready for whatever duties Duke Leto sees fit of you, as a “noblewoman” without any true blood given nobility. 

Paul had been dancing around your worries for a while now, cutting off your worried rants with funny quips and dragging you from the library or training room to the beach when he believed you too worrisome. However, his duties were catching up to him as well, even when he tried to balance on the beam with you. He would be a duke one day, and though he had acted like a prince all his life, this was much more real.

His duties were specifically catching up to him in the form of one Lady Jessica. Reminders, comments, requests to his teachers and staff. She wanted him to start becoming the man he needs to be.

One of her lectures was playing out before your eyes in the library, though it escaped you how it even began. The soft, rhythmic drumming of the rain against the high windows felt like the one thing tethering you this world as she spoke, shadows cast across her face. 

Lady Jessica’s voice sliced through the rain, calm but pointed. Leaving the air around you feeling heavy. You sat at a table beside Paul, as she stood above you, a judge passing through your reading session. Her sharp eyes, blue within blue, never seemed to miss anything.

She had always watched you carefully, ever since you were children – though it wasn’t until recently that you noticed how her gaze lingered on you. Emotion indecipherable, yet somehow your stomach seared from it. She was assessing you on criteria it felt you had no control over. 

“You’re both approaching the age where things will change,” Jessica said, her gaze flicking between you and Paul. Her tone was deceptively gentle, like the calm before a storm. “You can no longer afford to be... careless.”

There was a long pause, a silence that felt charged with unspoken meaning. Paul shifted beside you, and though you didn’t look at him, you could feel the tension in the way he carried himself, alert, almost defensive.

“I’m not just speaking about duties to the House or the formalities expected of you as you come of age.” Lady Jessica’s eyes rested on you, sharp and assessing. “I’m also speaking about the way you conduct yourselves in your personal relationships.”

Your heart stuttered at the implication, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. You did not wish to dig into the meaning behind her words.

This was not the first time she’d given such a lecture, but it was the first time it felt so personal. So aimed. It was understood she must be referring to the hours upon hours you spent together, including in the moonlight. The quiet moments where you and Paul sought each other out, clinging to your comfort when the world felt too heavy to bear alone.

It was never intended to be anything inappropriate. You were each other’s safety nets, just like you had always been. But still, you felt a pang of shame coil in your chest at the thought of it being seen that way.

“You have been given responsibilities that go beyond your own desires,” Jessica continued, turning slightly toward Paul. “You are the heir to the House of Atreides, Paul. Every decision you make now, every relationship you allow to develop, can impact that legacy.”

Paul’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you risked a glance at him. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his posture betrayed his discomfort. His eyes flicked to you, worry clouding them more than annoyance at his mother’s words. He searched your face for something, and did not seem happy with what he saw, but you ripped your gaze away a mere second after.

He was not thinking about his legacy. In that moment, all he thought about was you and how you were feeling.

Your stomach twisted, and the weight of it all – the difference in your status, the expectations that shadowed both your lives – seemed too much. Lady Jessica was not wrong, and Gods did you hate it. You glanced down, willing the words to settle somewhere far away, somewhere that wouldn’t hurt so much.

“You must understand,” Jessica said, her voice softer now, but no less firm, “the time for childish games is over. It’s time for both of you to take your roles more seriously. The future will not wait for you to be ready.”

The words hit you harder than they should have, like a reprimand for something you had not yet done but already felt guilty about. You wanted to say something, anything to show that you understood, that you weren’t some distraction pulling Paul away from his responsibilities, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you nodded stiffly, keeping your eyes trained on the floor.

Jessica gave a tight-lipped smile you did not see, before turning around to take her leave, pleased with the efficiency of your talk. She was gone, her robes whispering against the stone floor as she left you alone with the silence she had created between you two.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The weight of Jessica’s words still hung heavy in the room, thickening the air between you. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, not yet.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Paul finally said, his voice low and careful, like he was testing the waters.

When you did not respond, Paul let out a soft sigh, moving his body towards you. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother—”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in, more sharply than you intended. You could feel the weight of it all pressing down on you. The constant reminders of how you didn’t quite fit into this world of nobility and politics, how your presence was tolerated but not truly embraced by the one woman you wished to be on your side. “And maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

You did not elaborate, you did not need to.

Paul’s expression tightened, and before you could move away, he reached out, gently gripping your hands between his. His touch was warm, grounding, but you tried not to let yourself sink into it.

“No,” he said, his voice firm now. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head again. “But your mother thinks—”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words were out of Paul’s mouth before he could stop them, and for a moment, he looked almost startled by his own admission. He blinked, as if trying to make sense of his own boldness, before his grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he said, quieter this time, but no less intense. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

You looked up at him then, your breath catching at the rawness in his voice. Paul never let anyone see him like this—not even you most of the time, not fully. But now, there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Desperation, maybe. Or something deeper, something unspoken.

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he continued, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret he’d been keeping for too long. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

Your chest tightened, torn between the overwhelming urge to believe him and the guilt that had been festering inside you since Jessica’s words. You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes made it impossible to say any words out loud.

So instead, you swallowed your thoughts, pressing them deep down where they couldn’t be reached.

“We just need to be more careful,” you said softly, pulling your hands away from his grasp. Your skin still tingled where his fingers had been. “Your mother’s right. We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s face fell, the tension in his shoulders sagging slightly. His now-free hands went up to rub at his face before he sighed. “But we’re not acting like kids.”

“Aren’t we?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul was quiet for a long moment, his eyes flicking away from you, as if he couldn’t bring himself to argue. Maybe because deep down, he knew you were right.

But then, just as the silence between you started to feel unbearable, he spoke again, his voice quieter, but full of conviction.

“Nothing has changed though. Not between us.”

The words lingered in the air, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t know how to respond. A part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to cling to the idea that no matter what the world threw at you, no matter what Lady Jessica said, you and Paul would always be the same. The same two people who had spent years leaning on each other, who had always been there to catch each other when the ground fell away.

Yet, you knew what Paul’s wishful thinking sounded like more than anyone else. You knew everything about him. And in this moment, you knew he was wrong. No matter how much you both tried to ignore it, the future was closing in around you.

“I should go,” you said quietly, getting up from your seat before he could say or do anything to stop you. “I need to think.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough to keep you rooted in place for just a moment longer, looking down at him. He still looked so young, his eyes so wide. That familiar ache settled in your chest, the same ache that came whenever you thought about what you were trying so hard not to lose.

“I will see you tomorrow,” you said, and with that you left him to sit with the sound of rain drops against glass.

After Jessica’s most pointed lecture, your unease at night, the one you and Paul seemed cursed to be forever plagued by as children of the castle, had only increased. You woke in cold sweat or you did not wake at all – regardless, you stayed in your own bed, never venturing down that familiar path in the hallway. You hugged your knees for comfort. 

You were a proper young woman. As you ought to be.

Nothing could get you and Paul to stop spending time with each other entirely though, not his mother and certainly not complicated feelings. There was already a lot of that flowing around anyway.

Classes, meals, walks around the hallways, the occasional silent moment watching the waves side by side in a large window. Never late-night visits. Never lingering too much, especially not around Jessica. 

She seemed pleased with your development, so you bit your cheek and played the part.

It had been months since either of you crossed that invisible boundary, but the comfort of those nights lingered in your minds, a shared memory you couldn’t quite let go of. One that you held tight on rough nights.

Ironically enough, it was the nights without thunder or storms that you struggled the most. Gripped by fear and horror, you fought through the worst nightmare you had experienced in many years. Mangled bodies, fire and smoke, Paul’s face distorted by sandstorms that you swear you could feel cut into your fragile skin like class.

The scream was lodged in your throat as you shot up, finally able to pull yourself out of the depths of your consciousness of all that has happened and all you fear will. Drowning in sweat and tears, violently trembling all over, you suddenly found yourself on your feet in the cold hallway.

No coherent thoughts were running through your head, just instinct and an intense need to be saved from your own mind. Even in a waking state, you still felt half infused in the nightmare, seeing the scenes when you blink, as if tattooed on your eyelids.

Almost running down the known path, your hand grazing the wall as you went to stabilise yourself. The rational part of your brain told you it wasn’t appropriate, that you should listen to Jessica, you were both too old to be doing this – but you were not in a rational state of mind right now. Right now you were the same scared little girl you have always been, the one you fear you always will be, and you knew what you needed to do to quiet her screams. 

When you reached his door, you paused, your hand hovering over the handle. What if he didn’t want this anymore? What if he would turn you away?

Before you could second-guess yourself further, the door creaked open, and there he was. Paul stood in the doorway, lit up from behind by a single candle on his nightstand. His eyes were wide as he took the sight of you in, but there was no real surprise etched on his face. However, if you weren’t mistaken, you thought you saw relief in it. Like he had been waiting for you, hoping for you to come.

Paul breathed your name out like a ‘thank you’, stepping aside to let you in before you could even speak. His hair was dishevelled, his shirt wrinkled from where he must have been lying awake, staring at the tall ceiling.

You slipped in past him, already feeling some tension leave your body as soon as the door closed behind you. You weren’t sure what to say. Maybe you didn’t need to say anything at all. Letting your eyes meet his, the look on Paul’s face told you everything you needed to know.

Without a word, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed, his presence a warm, steadying force behind you. He didn’t ask you any questions, he didn’t need to. You both knew that whatever it was, it was enough to bring you here, to him. 

You hesitated for just a moment, feeling the weight of the years between you. When you were children, there had been no second thoughts, no hesitation. But now, voices were creeping in – but you shoved them aside like his blankets, and climbed into his bed.

When Paul slid into bed beside you, everything felt right again.

The tension in your body melted away as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and suddenly, the fear that had gripped you moments ago faded into nothing.

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the last of your tremors subsided. He was your anchor, your constant in a world that was rapidly spinning out of control.

“Are you okay?” Paul finally asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You nodded against him, but your throat felt tight, your words stuck behind the weight of everything unsaid. The nightmare had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, and it wasn’t just about the dark images in your head. It was the fear of losing Paul, of losing the one person who had been by your side for as long as you could remember.

“I’m glad you came,” Paul said quietly. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, his hand tightening slightly on your shoulder as if to ground himself.

“I know,” you whispered, finally finding your voice. “I wanted to come sooner.”

There was a pause, and then, after a long moment, Paul’s thumb began tracing slow circles on your arm, his touch gentle but deliberate. It was a gesture of comfort, of familiarity. 

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured, so softly you almost didn’t hear him. “I swear it.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head up, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His face was serious, his eyes reflecting the weight of the promise he’d just made. For a brief second, you thought he might say more, something you’d been waiting for but weren’t ready to confront. 

Instead, Paul’s expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, the gesture tender, reassuring. It was something he might have done when you were younger, but now it felt different. It wasn’t just comfort anymore—it was a part of the promise.

Neither of you said anything after that. You simply held each other, letting the quiet settle in. The world outside might have been shifting, changing in ways neither of you could control, but here, in the stillness of the night, there was nothing but you and Paul.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, only that, for the first time in a long while, you felt safe. And unfortunately, as the next few days would ensure, it was the last time for a long while as well.

***

When Arrakis claimed Duke Leto, it also claimed something inside Paul.

He wasn’t the same after that day. The boy who had been your partner in rebellion, the one who made you laugh even in the darkest of times, had hardened. His grief was silent, buried under layers of duty and survival, but you could see it. It was in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes had dulled since your arrival on this cursed planet.

In the middle of it all, you felt lost too. You had lost the closest you had to a father figure in Duke Leto, but worse, you were losing Paul—bit by bit, day by day, as he was forced to become someone you struggled to recognise. This was a different kind of nightmare, one you couldn’t wake from.

After growing used to the luxury of Caladan Castle’s beddings, you found yourself huddled with Paul in a small tent in the middle of the desert, the harsh winds of Arrakis howling outside. There was nothing but sand for miles, and for the first time since arriving on this planet, you felt truly untethered from the life you once knew.

Paul sat across from you, his back pressed against the rough fabric of the tent, his face half-shadowed by the faint light from a small glowglobe. His eyes were distant, fixed on something you couldn’t see, something only he could comprehend.

“Paul?” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t answer at first, but then, slowly, his gaze shifted to you. There was a fragility there that caught you off guard—a vulnerability that reminded you of the boy you used to sneak around the castle with, the one who used to chase away your fears with a single glance.

Without thinking, you moved closer, kneeling in front of him. His breath hitched as you reached out, gently placing one hand on his arm and the other on his cheek. He looked down at your fingers, as if surprised by the touch, before his eyes met yours again.

You wanted to say something, anything at all, to ease his pain. To take some of the burden off his shoulders, even if that meant taking them upon your own. No words felt worthy enough and died in your throat, while the sentiment remained hot on your tongue.

With Arrakis raging around you, you wanted him to feel some sense of security.

“I’m still here,” you whispered, echoing the words he had said to you when you were the one needing the comfort.

For a moment, he just stared at you. Then, with a twitch of his lips, something cracked in his expression, something that had been carefully held in place to keep it all in. Paul’s shoulders sagged, the weight of loss and doom pressing down on him all at once.

He didn’t say anything, but when you shifted closer and pulled him into your arms, he didn’t resist. He simply let you hold him, his head resting against your shoulder, his breath shaky and uneven.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s presence as the storm outside raged on. The world around you was crumbling, but here, in the faux quiet of the tent, there was nothing but the two of you. You didn’t have words for what you were feeling, but it didn’t matter. Paul understood. He always had.

As if the continued touch broke him, Paul made a sound like a tear-less sob, saving water while still drowning in emotion. His arms tightened around you, holding onto you for dear life.

He murmured something against your neck that you couldn’t hear. You made an inquisitive humming sound as you began to stroke his back, coaxing him through his pain.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. His voice was raw, it sent ripples through your heart. “Please.”

“You won’t,” you promised, your fingers moving up to card through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Paul. I’ll be right here with you.”

If he wanted to answer, he couldn’t. Instead he let himself have this moment before facing a world that seemed increasingly too big.

***

Life among the Fremen was harsh, unforgiving, but the two of you had learned to survive. It had been weeks since you arrived in the sietch, and every day felt like a battle—against the elements, against the constant threat of danger, against the growing distance between you and the boy you grew up with.

The desert night was deceptively cool, the air carrying a sharpness that contrasted with the oppressive heat of the day. You stood just outside the sietch, gazing up at the unfamiliar stars that stretched endlessly above the dunes. The sky was clear—almost too clear—so different from the comforting overcast of Caladan, the gentle crash of waves a memory long lost to the wind. You inhaled deeply, trying to ground yourself, but the vastness of the desert made you feel small. Disconnected.

There were few quiet moments here, and you took a deep breath as you were surrounded by it.

“I thought I’d find you here.” 

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind you, soft but deliberate. Without turning, you of course knew it was Paul. He came up behind you, standing slightly to your left so you could see him in your sideview. You leaned back, resting your shoulder on his own.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Paul laughed lowly – some things never change. “Neither could I.”

You shook your head, still staring at the stars. “I don’t know if I’ve had a proper night’s sleep since we left Caladan.”

“I miss the rain,” Paul said quietly. “I never thought I would. I used to complain about it when we were kids.”

You smiled faintly. “Don’t lie, you hated being inside when it rained. You’d drag me out into the mud even when it was pouring.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Well, you never said no.”

“I never could.”

There was a pause, one that carried the weight of the past few months – Arrakis, the loss of Duke Leto, the constant struggle for survival. The two of you had grown so used to moving, fighting, planning for the next step, that there had been no time to sit with your grief. No time to just be, in the way you only can with each other.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Paul murmured, glancing at you sideways. “How quickly everything changes. A few months ago, we were on Caladan, complaining about studies, sneaking into each other’s rooms like we always used to... and now–”

“We’re here,” you finished for him, your voice quieter. “In the middle of the desert.”

Paul’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you felt the weight of his gaze. You’d been through so much together, seen so much of each other, in ways no one else had. Yet there was still a distance between you now, a hesitation that hadn’t been there when you were younger. 

It was as though you both knew you were standing on the edge of something, but neither of you dared to cross it.

“I was thinking...” Paul started, his voice trailing off. He looked away, frowning slightly as if choosing his words carefully. “Would it be... strange if you stayed with me tonight? Just for comfort, I mean.”

Your heart skipped, somehow caught off guard by the question. There had been so many nights, both as children and as teenagers, where you had found solace in each other’s company. Whether from nightmares, from stress, or simply because being apart felt wrong.

“Not strange, anyone would need a bit of comfort in our situation,” you tried at humour before looking back at him with soft eyes. 

He didn’t say anything, seemingly trapped between his thoughts. Usually when you spend the night together lately it was because of difficult emotions. You open the door for him to talk about his feelings.

“Are you– are you okay?” you asked, searching his face for the answer. 

Paul was always the one holding everything together, always taking on the weight of his responsibilities without complaint. But tonight, standing under the cold desert sky, he seemed tired. Tired in a way that went beyond just sleepless nights.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked out over the dunes, his expression unreadable, though the subtle tightening of his jaw told you he was wrestling with something.

“I’ve been thinking about my father,” he finally said, his voice thick with the grief he rarely let slip. “About everything he wanted for me. For us. How he wanted me to be a ruler who led with compassion, but how can I...?” He trailed off, swallowing hard, and you could see the battle raging behind his eyes.“I don’t know if I can be what he wanted.”

Your heart ached at his words. You had always known Paul felt the weight of his future, but you hadn’t realised how deeply it cut. Stepping closer, you touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention back to you.

“You already are,” you said softly. “Even in the middle of all this, Paul, you haven’t lost that part of yourself. Your father would see that.”

He exhaled shakily, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world fell away. There was a vulnerability there, one he rarely let show. It made something inside you shift, as though the careful lines you had mentally drawn to protect yourself, to keep things unchanged between you, were suddenly blurring.

“I’m just afraid of losing more,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Of losing everyone I care about. Losing you.”

The words settled heavily in the space between you, a truth that had always lingered but was now undeniable. You were no longer just childhood friends. You were no longer just companions trying to survive. There was a throne in your heart, and on it, Paul was more than just a duke. 

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, turning towards him and stepping even closer. “You couldn’t. I’m here, Paul, I’ve always been here.”

Paul stared at you, his expression shifting into something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes softened, the hard edges that had been carved into him by grief and duty melting away, if only for a moment. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you now, something that had been building for years but had never quite been said aloud.

“You don’t understand,” Paul whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t lose you. Not just because you’re the last piece of Caladan I have left... but because I—”

He stopped, his throat working as if the words were too hard to say. But you knew what he meant. You’d always known, hadn’t you? 

Paul took a step closer, the last step separating his body from yours. His hand lifted to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers lingered at the base of your neck, and you were sure he could feel the rapid beat of your heart in your pulsepoint. It echoed the weight of what he wasn’t saying. 

“You can say it,” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation.

Paul’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the verge of stepping back, of retreating into that familiar space where he could hide from the truth. But then his palm made contact with the side of your neck, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. Breathing in deeply, slowly.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret he had been holding onto for too long. “I have loved you for so long, and I didn’t even realise it. But now, I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your heart stuttered at the confession, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t a declaration shouted from the rooftops, it wasn’t a grand, romantic gesture. It was quiet, real, the kind of love that had grown slowly over years, woven into every shared moment, every laugh, every late-night conversation.

“And I love you,” you whispered back, the words barely audible in the quiet of the desert night. “You’re my best friend, my person. You must know that.”

Paul let out a soft, almost relieved breath, his hand moving up to cup your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his. There was a question in his eyes, one he didn’t need to ask. You answered it by leaning in, lips barely brushing against his, before he closed the final gap with the gentlest of kisses. He was tentative, as though testing the waters of something new, something fragile but real.

It was a kiss that felt like a promise.

It lingered, even when he pulled back ever so slowly, resting his forehead back against yours. 

You both stood there in the quiet, the weight of the desert and the night around you, but the tension between you finally dissipating through your touches.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Paul whispered again, his voice steady this time, though the vulnerability was still there, just beneath the surface.

“I will stay with you every night, if that would make you happy.” There was no hesitation in your voice or your heart. Just love.

A smile spread on his face before he pressed it against your lips in another kiss. Searing, caring, passionate. This was the closest you have seen him to his old boyish self, always happy to bask in your presence.

Letting his hand travel down to find yours, he interlaced your fingers and pulled you back into the sietch.

His room was small, barely big enough for the both of you, a stark contrast to your conditions at Caladan. But as you lay down beside each other, it didn’t matter, you were glad for the excuse to keep him even closer. Paul wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly, and for the first time since Arrakis had stolen everything from you, you felt safe. Safe in the knowledge that whatever came next, whatever trials the desert or the universe had in store, you wouldn’t face them alone.

As you lay in his arms, your head resting against his chest, you whispered, “We’ll get through this, Paul. Together.”

Paul’s grip tightened around you, and you could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

“We will,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

“And I you. No matter what, my love.”

Warmth spread across Paul’s face at the name. He thought, with sleep beginning to cloud his mind, that though there are many uncomfortable changes – that is one he will happily accept. 

For the first time in weeks, you both fell asleep easily, wrapped in the comfort of each other, and the quiet promise of the love that had finally, after all these years, been released into dry air.

[loiladadiani]

Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich (1857 - 1905)

Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich is in some ways a mystery and in others he is not.

He was the fifth son and seventh child of Emperor Alexander II of Russia. He was an influential figure during the reigns of his brother Emperor Alexander III of Russia (who trusted him) and his nephew Emperor Nicholas II, who was also his brother-in-law through Sergei's marriage to Elizabeth, the sister of Tsarina Alexandra. Sergei served for almost 15 years as the governor-general of Moscow until becoming a victim of terrorist violence in 1905 just when he was getting ready to leave the post. He was a very cultured man and spoke four languages in addition to Russian. He was also very religious (even though sometimes he showed concern about what he considered his wife Ella's excessive religiosity).

There is always much talk about the fact that his marriage to Ella was childless and that he wore a corset under his uniform (this was standard practice at some point in Prussia.) His sexual orientation seems to always be an issue. We don't really know because Ella and he left no papers, diaries, or letters that could enlighten us in that area. We do know why he wore the corset and why he seemed so impatient and uptight a great deal of the time: He had osteoarticular tuberculosis and was in a lot of pain most of the time. Within the family, he was extremely close to Grand Duke Pavel, his younger brother, and his sister Marie. He was also close to Tzar Alexander III and to Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich.

Several interesting quotes about him:

Consuelo Vanderbilt then Duchess of Malborough met him in Moscow, she considered him to be "One of the most handsome men I have ever seen."

Ernst Ludwig, Grand Duke of Hesse: " He was tall and fair with delicate features and beautiful light green eyes".

Marie, Queen of Romania: "Dry, nervous, short of speech, impatient, he had none of the rather careless good humor of his three elder brothers ... but for all that we loved him, felt irresistibly attracted to him, hard though he could be. Few perhaps cherish his memory, but I do."

Grand Duchess Marie, Duchess of Edinburg by marriage and later Grand Duchess of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha adored him and called him "an exceptionally nice young man... and can be recommended one very possible way, not because he is my brother, but because he is an exception among princes."

His wife sustained that she adored him. She also said that Sergei was the type of person you liked more as you got to know him better (paraphrase.)

I have read that many of the malicious rumors about him came from William II, the German Keiser, who had been in love with Ella; she turned him down to marry Sergei. Certainly, Grand Duke Alexander Milkhailovich (Sandro) did not do him any favors in his book "Once a Grand Duke." Although his book is quoted on the Romanovs very frequently, he is not always reliable.

The pictures of Sergei above are not frequently seen - all of them were reblogged from the tumblr blog sergei-and-ella-romanov

One more thing: His nickname was Giga.

Smilies Sergei and Ella

[hoedamn-eron]

duke leto - breeding

You're newly married to the Duke of Caladan, and you must create an heir.

Warnings: 18+, minors, DNI. Arranged marriage (and because of that, he's a bit cold at the beginning). Breeding kink. Age gap, but it's legal. Small, teeny tiny, praise kink. Also, teeny tiny Dom!Leto. Word count: 1,243 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This was originally a part of my Kinktober list but now it's just a stand alone.

Your marriage to Duke Leto Atreides had been a political one, of course.

After all, you were sixteen years his junior, and his heart already belonged to Lady Jessica, the mother of his son, Paul. If he’d had a choice, he would have married Lady Jessica, but that would get no gain. The only reason the two of you were wed was to unite your Houses, that trading between your planets would be easier and beneficial if there was an insider on Caladan.

You had taken it all in your stride. You had little say in how your future panned out, but you had heard many great things about Leto Atreides and how honourable he was. He was a just man, and a kind man, and you were sure that he would treat you with respect. You met the day before your wedding, had dinner together, where you’d made idle chat about your lives before you had met. Then you went your separate ways and didn’t see each other until you were to be wed.

You had had a grand party, where you barely got a word in to your new husband as you both were surrounded by congratulations from many guests and family members, even that night when he had taken you to bed, he had said few words, the implication of your futures weighing heavy on him. You had the feeling he would have opted to not take you to your bedchambers if he had the choice, but no marriage was law until consummated. However, he had treated you well, as it was your first time, and he even helped clean up afterwards, but he left shortly after midnight to spend the rest of the night with Lady Jessica.

You hadn’t minded, really, that he had a concubine; she was there long before you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with rich and powerful men having wives and concubines. Like you said, Duke Leto treated you well, but you knew he would never love you like he loves her, but you weren’t there for love, you were there for duty.

Like right now, as he has you in your bedchambers, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks into you slowly.

He only ever visits your bedchambers twice a week, otherwise he’s with Lady Jessica. You and he both know that you must create a ‘legitimate’ heir, if not to rule Caladan, then to strengthen the relationship between Caladan and your home planet. You weren’t opposed to becoming a mother, and you cherished the nights you spent with Leto as you tried for a child.

Especially when he makes you feel so good.

“That’s it,” he mutters against your neck, as he grinds deliciously into you.

You gasp, your eyes closing as your head is thrown back against your pillow. “Please…faster…”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he doesn’t change his pace. He moves with you, his hard cock thrusting in and out of you, leaning on his left forearm above your head, his right hand trailing along your waist leaving a path of fire in its wake. Something’s different. It shouldn’t feel like this, he belongs to another. He shouldn’t be saying these things to you, about how good you’re making him feel, how good you’re taking him. How you’re always so willing to help him with making an heir.

He pauses as you involuntarily let out a loud, deep moan, and clench around him. You’d both never explicitly said the obvious; that the only reason you go to bed together is to make an heir, it was just always known. But now, as he pants into your sweat sheened neck, telling you about how he’s going to stuff you and make you a mother, you’re practically dripping on the sheets…and he can feel it.

Leto lifts himself to look down at you, but you can’t meet his eye. You can already feel your cheeks warming, and you’re mortified. He keeps looking at you as he slowly starts thrusting again, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds back up again. You can’t look at him, not now. But he has other ideas.

Your eyes snap open as you feel him hold your jaw firmly, forcing you to look at him. He’s so intense, you feel the urge to look away from him.

“No,” he demands, and your eyes immediately look back him. “You look at me. Keep looking at me.”

You let out a whimper as his hips speed up. “Y-yes, your Grace.”

“You’re doing so well,” he mutters, and gives out his own groan as you squeeze around him again. “So, so well sweetheart.”

You let out a noise that was between a whine and a sob. He’d never been so…affectionate before. Your orgasm was brewing, and he seemed nowhere near ready to finish. Your hips rocked with his as you felt every delicious caress his cock offered you. “Don’t stop. Please.” You were pretty sure you were clawing your nails in his back but you were so out of it, you couldn’t tell.

“I would never,” Leto said, looking in your eyes, and you believed him. “I’m going to keep going until you are filled with me. We’re not stopping until you are with child. My child.”

“Fuck!” you cried as your climax hits you hard. You still beneath him, your eyes closing as your mouth hangs open, the intense pleasure becomes all-encompassing, radiating outwards from your core. It's as if a floodgate of sensations opens, and a rush of euphoria spreads through your body. It's a release of tension, a peak of pleasure that can feel like a sweet explosion of sensation.

You’re positive you black out, as you come to your orgasm subsides, a sense of deep relaxation and contentment overtakes you, but Leto has released your jaw and is buried in your neck again, groaning your name as his hips slam into you with such force, you were certain he would leave bruises. You thread your fingers through his salt and pepper curls, and you give a whimpered, “Leto…”

He lets out a loud, guttural moan before his hips still in you, then give a few small, precise thrusts as he cums deep into you. He soon goes limp on top of you, his forearm holding him up as not to crush you. You pant as you look at the ceiling above you, the sudden feeling of panic in your chest overtaking. That was incredibly inappropriate. You used less-than-ladylike language, you’d called him by his name. You’d marked his back. You were sure Lady Jessica would have your head –

You both let out a groan as he pulls out of you, and you feel your combined fluids drip out of you. You’re about to apologise to him but you let out a loud gasp as Leto grabs the back of your thighs and practically folds you in half before pushing his fingers into your wet and sensitive pussy. You’re gasping and you’re about to question him but the words fall flat on your tongue, seeing how strongly he’s staring at you.

“Do not move,” he demands of you.

You nod your head at him. “Yes, your Grace.”

He gives you a small grin, his fingers moving just that much deeper into you, causing a small moan to escape your lips. “I think, now, you can call me Leto. We are married, after all.”

[thepaleys]

Dearest Missy!

Many thanks for your last letters. I am pleased that you liked my present. (…) These days I was busy, so did not write and then that terrible chagrin about Uncle Paul has been weighing heavily on my mind. The hard but just punishment has come upon him; he has been officially dismissed from the service and made an exile. His children are put under Vormundschaft [Guardianship] of Uncle Serge and the greater part of his fortune he cannot touch and it is put for them. And all that for the sake of an old coquette of past 40 who has had any amount of adventures in her life and who is no better than a cocotte du grande mond. And he, poor innocent fool, writes that it was his sacred duty to marry this woman and to break his word of honour to his sovereign! That is where we are going to now, it seems to me, nothing sacred anymore, than a foolish love for a worthless woman! The poor, poor children, who simply adore their father and whose young hearts were broken by this announcement, which Uncle Paul has been obliged to make to them himself by letter!

Well, I cannot think at anything else at present! He has also written to me, but I have not answered for the present. You see, no reasons and no arguments are of any use in such a case.

Yesterday Uncle Serge arrived here for 3 days from Darmstadt… he is simply broken hearted about Uncle Paul, though old age' has made him calm, and resigned about such family tragedies, that are becoming so frequent, that one resigns oneself to them, faute de les pouvoir éviter. He was very nice with Ducky and had a talk with her, so that she was rather touched. Beforehand she felt nervous and uncomfortable. I have asked him to speak with her about Kyrill, as this sad example now terrifies me and they are both fast drifting to the same end! No hope of any kind that it will be allowed, so if they persist, the same terrible fate is their only future! (...)

10 November 1902

My Dear Mama,

… Thank you so much for your letter. I can imagine that the thought of Uncle Paul, is dreadfully bitter, and how sad you & Uncle Serge must be thinking it all over, and such a dear and charming brother as Uncle Paul was too! And the dreadful thing is, that one cannot imagine that he can be happy. Perhaps a very few years and then the dreadful regret of all he has left will come, and his children; poor little Alix, if she had lived, all this would not have been - if she looks down from heaven how sad she must be, sometimes one really hopes that the dead know nothing more of what goes on down here, or they could not be happy in heaven! (...)

I am so pleased Uncle Serge was nice with Ducky, I am sure the meeting must have been painful to her. I share your anxiety about her future, I wonder how will it all end. Did Uncle Serge talk to her upon that subject also? Will Uncle Paul's children now live with Uncle Serge and Ella? (...)

Your loving Missy

[facelesswoman666]

The Beast Blade - Feyd Rautha x Fem! Reader

Hello lovelies, I am back and i have brought to you the product of my many nights spent reading Feyd Rautha smut. I thought i would have a go at it myself. This is part one of a 4 part series. So please enjoy xoxo

Synopsis - There are enemies in every territory. At the request of the emperor, the House Harkonnen and Atreides have been asked to discuss the conditions of a peace treaty, that could subside years of futile conflict. Poised at the centre of this conflict are the young heirs of each house. Na-Baron Rautha and the young Duke Paul Atreides. Under the machinations of their guardians, they must navigate their own claims to leadership and the claims of their newfound allies. Although Rautha is developing a taste for the young Duke’s sister, and he will stop at nothing to claim what he covets. Regardless of the outcome of his desires.

18+ MINORS DNI. Sexual contact warnings

This part is short, sorry xo

Part 1 - A dove and a dog

He was Harkonnen, the perversities of his nature knew no human bounds and yet his composure was impeccable. The lone blade, they called him, hushed in opulent halls and whispered around feasting tables too grand for proper representation. Better translated to ‘Beast Blade’ in the native tongue. His character was primal, unfiltered, raw, and those who were favoured enough to appear in his presence frequently, knew of his interests.

A select few suffered them recurrently.

Na-Baron Feyd Rautha was a petulant man. Yet desirable in the traditions of the House Harkonnen. His body an expanse of heavily built muscle tissue and sheer skin, with a hue of spectre white. The rotated assortment of precious things that followed, nipping at his heels and fawning over his body were ever lingering in his presence. Although not today.

Feyd found himself, today, in an unfamiliar setting, an uncomfortable one at that. Traipsing soft footed around the halls of the Arrakeen castle, now under the jurisdiction of House Atreides. Thieving bastards he thought, and imagined his blade studying the soft pale skin of the eldest atreides child. Weak as a crib bound babe was Paul. His rumination’s shifted to the youngest atreides daughter, a girl of 18 and whether it would be pleasant to ruin her in the short time he would spend here.

The ruining of the princess was far from possibility, considering the minute truth that was she despised his bloodline, along with him. The complexities of this sand wrought cavernous abode was not lost on him, seeing as his former years as a youth had been spent causing deviltry about these halls. His hand slid over the walls; it reminded him of the past.

A servant girl began to cross his path, hurriedly skipping on tapping feet to an unknown destination. It was decided.

The Na-Baron expressed his internal sentiments ‘A dove has entered the dog’s pit’ Her chin rotated in his direction and she replied ‘And does the dove not have wings?’ Her overt defiance to a superior amused him ‘The dove has wings and the dog has teeth’ He gave in to her rebuttal. Her smile stretched small against her pretty face ‘The dove is slight’ Feyd studied the girl with intense curiosity.

‘Dogs eat birds’ The words dripped from his poison lips; he did not indulge in their recreation of the folk tale. His boredom grew within him.

She stepped closer, bringing forth the beauty of a youthful face into a light which did not shadow the most adored features. What a strange specimen, he noted, allowing her momentary pauses from his scrutiny. His eyed lowered to the tunic she wore, draped lazily over her skin and the perfect tits that hung on her chest underneath it. She noticed Rautha’s eyes darting from peak to peak across her chest. His tongue subsequently sliding over his bottom lip. He spoke ‘Do all caladan women have such perky tits? Or is it primarily you?’ Rautha smirked

The girl was not accustomed to such a word and she imagined it held its own brutality for this man. Her mother had always referred to them as breasts. The Na-Baron suppressed the urge to reach out, to skim them with his fingers. The pretty little servants on his home-world would have welcomed his hands to their chest but little did he care for those white mounds of flesh. These things were delicate, flush from exertion and begging to be touched. She, taken aback by his statement, breathed a gasp and stumbled back a pace. Was he truly so bold?

The girl stood in puzzlement of the living statue positioned before her. Slithers of yellow light filtering through the windows, washing over him as though a wave of ocean cascading. It illuminated his form for brief bursts of remark “I asked you a question” he repeated simply “And by what means do you expect me to provide an answer” She clipped her tone, speaking candidly. Feyd stilled himself, the initial spouts of rage fighting their way to heat the skin of his arms. He presented his smile, blackened teeth, gums writhing over them like tar and pressed her further “Are all caladan women blessed with perky tits? Or and i repeat, is it primarily you?”

She would not play pawn in this righteous amusement of power and lust. Her mouth kept in a hard line, to the Na-Baron’s annoyance. He reached his fingers to her in an untamed prediction of violence. The thumb and forefinger of this looming figure came to rest on her neck, pressuring the area. His other hand grasping the flesh of her ass in it claws, he craned his neck, and stretched downwards to whisper against the shell of her ear ‘I will take these tits in my mouth until they ache with pleasure and the distortions of lust cloud your feeble mind. There is no one you can run to that will affirm this ever happened. Do you understand?”

The girl nodded slowly, heaving breaths racking her lungs. Hips bucking in a childish display of discomposure, into where his pelvic bone struck against hers.

Duncan idaho rounded the corner, spotting the pair immediately and his eyed betrayed cause for concern. She sensed his presence to her side although Feyd Rautha did not conclude his oppression of her even under the eyes of the Duke Leto’s most trusted adviser. “My lady” The firm query of Idaho concealed layers only known to the girl and her family. Feyd released her at the realisation of the name Idaho gave to her. Lady, he pondered, interesting. The Na-Baron watched keenly as the little creature before him wandered off, tailed by Idaho.

The Na-Baron revelled in the accusing glance Duncan speared him with upon departure.

[kteezy997]

The Heart of a Bene Gesserit-Part Two//Paul Atreides

Warnings: mention of slaves(for spice harvesting), drinking alcohol, speaking of heartbreak

You were given your own room at the Emperor's house. This wasn't the first time you'd stayed at a House of Atreides, but this felt altogether different from your childhood.

Duke Leto was an untouchable force, but not necessarily a man to be feared. He was a man who commanded respect. But you could tell that the people here, servants, soldiers, Paul's men, were all afraid of him under the surface.

As you spent the following day with Paul, you could still sense the melancholy from him. You sat in on his council, you walked the Arakeen halls with him, everything he said to everyone was met with a "Yes, my lord." As if they could not say anything contrary.

You knew that this wasn't what Paul desired. He was still Leto's son. He had a heart, and you knew that all he really wanted was love and to be loved. There was something specifically off about him. You could tell that he was troubled. You wanted to know what was going on in his mind.

Paul was headed to take some time to relax. He deeply stressed, as was everyone else during this time of war.

"Paul, do you need to talk about anything?"

"No, I'm fine." he said.

"You can trust me, Paul. I am your friend, don't forget that."

"I'm going to need more time. What personally troubles me is miniscule in comparison to everything around me."

Just as Paul had sat down, one of the guards burst into the room, "My lord, another smuggler crawler has been intercepted. They need your approval as to what to do with the prisoners aboard."

"Kill them all." Paul said, without any thought.

"No." you said sharply.

Paul frowned at you, his eyes darkening, "No? How would you deal with these traitors?"

"Don't be so much of a Harkonnen, Paul." you warned, knowing that you would pinch a nerve mentioning his mother's bloodline. "No need for senseless killing. That would only be liberation for these smugglers. I would keep them as slaves for the spice silos. Make them work to the bone, under the burning desert sun until the end of their days."

He tilted his head, a look of intrigue on his face, "Seems cruel, but quite useful, y/n."

"Think of it as a lesson for other wannabe thieves. The taste of slavery is much sourer than death. The spice harvesters will be kept in line. The empire will be better for it."

Paul nodded, a grin on his lips, "Hmm." He agreed, stepped closer to you. "I want to offer you a job on my council, if you'll have it. I need your mind, y/n. Someone sensible for once."

"I will consider it, my lord. Give me time." you answered, smirking up at him.

"I must leave now and give orders to the new slaves." he said to you, then looked to the guard at the door behind you. "Y/n will stay and watch over House Atreides in my stead until I return." he gave one last nod, then left the room.

......

Hours upon hours passed, it was so late into the night that you weren't informed about Paul's return. You needed to see him, to be assured that he was alright. You instructed a servant to take you to him.

Paul was alone in the dining hall; a few bottles of spice liquor littered the grand table. You looked ahead, above the large door across the room, stared into the eyes of the bull's head that hung there. You heard footsteps, saw Paul walking out toward the table.

"Leave us." you told the servant and watched them leave. This was seemingly a moment of weakness for the emperor, his staff did not need to see him this way, so vulnerable.

“Y/n, forgive me for not seeking you this evening. My duties took longer than anticipated. I figured you were asleep.” Paul said, holding a bottle to his lips, downing the liquid inside.

“I wanted to be sure that you came back safely.”

“I know my way in the desert. I’m the emperor, you don’t have to worry about me.” he sat down in one of the chairs, setting his bottle on the table.

“I think someone should look after you, Muad’Dib.”

“Oh?” he took another sip, “And you wish to be this someone? To look after me, bed me, so you can be the mother of the next Kwizatz Haderach?”

That remark made you angry, you understood that he couldn’t fully trust you yet, but he was being too harsh. The alcohol must bring out his defiant streak. “Don’t mock me, Paul Atreides. I’m not just Bene Gesserit, you know. I’m your friend, we grew up together, I am still the same person.”

“Are you?” he asked, not looking at you. His blue with blue eyes were obviously tired. Exhaustion was all over his face.

“Yes. I’m here for you, even if you don’t realize it.”

He turned his head, glaring at you. “Tell me, what exactly are you here for? I assume there’s a mission for you at hand, yes?”

This was it, you couldn’t conceal it anymore. He knew. He just needed you to admit it. “You’re right. I was sent here to secure your bloodline. To seduce you. I accepted the mission, but not to see it through. I just missed my friend. And I worried about you. Everything you’ve been through, Paul-"

“I believe you.” he drank down the remaining spice liquor from the bottle, then stood up. “Come with me.” he said, walking out of the dining hall.

“Paul, I think you should go to bed, get some rest.” you suggested, following him.

“Afterward." he replied. "I want to show you something.” He led you out onto the large balcony that overlooked the spice depot. “I remember when we used to watch the sunset on Caladan. I know you thought it was beautiful, the way the sun reflected on the water, but the moons here are just as breathtaking.”

You looked at him looking up at the night sky. The dark night shadowed his features, softening them. Then you looked up at the moons, shining brightly, “I have heard of the two moons of Arrakis, but it is something entirely different to see them with my own eyes.” He was right, it was a sight to behold. It was beautiful. “I may be biased, but I prefer a Caladan sunset.” you teased him.

Paul chuckled, looking over at you, “I knew you’d say that. What I wouldn’t give to be kids again. Feels like I’ve taken those memories for granted. I’m glad you’re here to bring them back. I miss Caladan, who I was there. Who I was when I was with you.” his voice was so tender and soft, if not for your training, you’d be weak in the knees.

“Maybe you could tell me what’s bothering you now. Get something off your chest. You have enough weight on you, Paul. Let me help you.”

He sighed, shaking his head, "I loved a Fremen woman, but she left when I ascended the throne. She hates everything I stand for. She didn't believe in the Lisan al Gaib. She thought I wanted to control her people. I betrayed her by seeking power. In avenging my father, I lost her."

You nodded, understanding why he had turned to the spice bottles, "I've never been in love. But I imagine losing it is very hard to deal with. I know you're hurting, but it sounds like you met a strong woman and had a great love. Not everyone gets that." You couldn't help but feel jealous. You hoped the marriage arranged for you one day would be a love match. But you were also jealous of this mysterious Fremen woman that had Paul's heart.

"I will always love her. I've seen many futures of her coming back to me, of me finding her. I don't know if any of those visions will come to be, but I will love her as long as I breathe."

Your heart sank, coming to realize that he may never love you that way. You swallowed, "I can only hope that I will feel that way about someone one day."

Paul took your hand, "I'm certain you will. You should know that I am, and have always been, very fond of you. So, it would be easy to get a man to fall in love with you." he smirked, "Especially if you use your Bene Gesserit tricks."' he winked.

"This Fremen woman, what was her name?"

"Chani. My Sihaya." he looked away, but he couldn't stop the smile on his face, but it was quickly replaced with sorrow.

"Sihaya? Desert spring, right?" Things were falling into place for you.

"Yeah. She hated that name. She preferred Chani."

"The prophecy. She was part of it." you whispered to yourself, realizing.

"Which is why she hated it." Paul concluded.

You stood there a moment, looking at the moons, soaking in the view. Now you knew that Paul would never want to be with you. He couldn't, even if he wanted to. He and this Chani were in the same prophecy. It was fated.

"I'm going to go to bed. You should do the same. Goodnight, my lord." you let go of his hand, and gave him a short curtsy.

He gave you a nod that felt strangely formal. You could somehow feel the intimacy between the two of you fading away as you left for your room.

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @bitchyunknownuser @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Oh my hey! Please, if you haven't already, please, could you do if you haven't please do favorite singer and song of the sdv bachelor/ettes

Oh, this is the first time I've posted an ask about a topic like this, so I hope I did it right. Thanks for the question, and have a great day! 🫰💕

_________________________________________

SDV bachelors:

Harvey's radio will always play Louis Daniel Armstrong or Ella Jane Fitzgerald because the doctor loves listening to jazz. If he wants something more energetic, Harvey will switch to the Latin music radio channel. He's sure to start dancing in the kitchen when Pete Rodríguez's "I Like It Like That" comes on. With music like that, cooking dinner becomes more interesting and fun.

It may sound pretty cliche, but Alex will definitely have a workout playlist with songs from the 80s rock and roll, pop rock and metal genres. Stan Bush ("Touch", "Fight for survive", "Never surrender"), Paul Engemann ("Push it to the limit, "The Eagle Lands"), Survivor ("Eye of Tiger"), Judas Priest ("All guns blazing", "The Sentinel") would be his favorites.

I'm sure Sebastian will be a fan of alternative rock (Nirvana - "Smell like teen spirit" and "Lithium"), emo-core (Taking back Sunday - "Cute without an "E") and electronic rock (almost all Celldweller albums, his favourite album is "Wish upon a Blackstar"). I also think that Sebby often likes to enjoy breakcore, not really remembering the specific artists and listening to whatever he likes. This is how I imagine Sebastian trying to explain to his mom what breakcore is (Warning: loud).

It's quite difficult with Sam because he's a real melomaniac. He listens to absolutely everything and almost all the time. Depending on his mood, he can listen to both heavy metal and pop music. However, the most frequently played bands in his music player are definitely the Beatles (his two favourite albums are "Help" and "Yellow submarine"), Coldplay ("Yellow") and Arctic Monkeys (the album"AM"). And also any popular song that gets stuck in his head (California girls we're unforgettable, daisy dukes bikini on top-).

Classics for Elliott! Our dear writer - and without masterpieces of classical music? Unthinkable! Mozart, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Vivaldi, Grieg, Debussy - all either playing in his little radio on the table, or the writer himself sits down at his piano and plays music by famous composers. He also loves modern classical music, and sometimes light jazz.

Shane listens to rock and heavy metal like Metallica, Ramstein, AC/DC all the time and you won't change my mind (I'll fight for that headcanon). I like to think he just lies on his bed, turns on his music player and plays the loudest heavy rock you can imagine in his headphones. One of his favourite songs that he listens to all the time is "For whom the bell tolls" (Metallica).

SDV bachelorettes:

Actually, I always thought that Maru would like synthwave and retrowave genre. I don't know why, but it would be just her style to include a playlist with synthwave artists (all Home songs, especially "Resonance" and "Head first"). If this genre is a too calm and the young inventor wants something a bit more energetic, her choice would be Daft Punk (Around the world, around the woooooooooooooorld!) or Disclosure ("Grab her" and "Omen" are her favorite songs).

Abigail's choices are quite chaotic. One moment she can listen to dark electro (Owl vision - "Horus" and "Holy shit"), and the next moment the amethyst lover admires folk music and promises herself that she will also learn to play the flute (Percival Schuttenbach - almost all songs, but especially "Karanfilce" and "Lazare", as well as Sowulo - the whole album "Sol"). She is also a lover of video game soundtracks and dark ambient. As I said before, pretty chaotic music taste.

All the popular pop, dance-pop and R&B you can think of - that's what Haley's playlist is. Ariana Grande, Doja Cat, Rihanna, Beyoncé, Britney Spears.... Haley doesn't have a particular favourite song, she likes everything. In the evening she likes to listen to the same pop and dance music songs, but in slowed down version + reverb.

Emily just can't live without energetic dance music. She could probably compete with Sam for the title of Starview Valley's music lover. And the genres can be diverse: from electro-swing (Caravan Palace) to Latin music (don't play Kaoma - "Lambada" in front of her, otherwise she will drag you to dance), from RnB (Beyoncé) to disco (Bee Gees).

When classical music is played, Penny falls into a melancholic mood. She is particularly affected by Claude Debussy's cycle of six piano pieces "Children's Corner", and she loves to listen to the piano version and the orchestra version equally. Besides classics, the young teacher also likes to listen to Enya (she always sheds tears when she listens to "May it be" or "Aniron"). But Penny will shed real rivers of tears if she hears the soundtrack from Titanic (especially "Hymn to the Sea").

If you ask Leah about her favourite music, the artist will name you a few groups of indie music and alternative music. After all, those are her favourite genres. In her free time, she sometimes likes to relax listening to Slenderbodies (especially "Belong" and "Opal ocean"), or Glass Animals (she can listen to the whole "Zaba" album all day long and she won't get bored). Leah also loves listening to songs by the indie duo King of Convenience (especially "Mrs Cold").

[thisphantomlife]

Songs Hozier has covered

Bowie - Changes, Young Americans (see also Trinity Orchestra section)

Prince - I Wanna Be Your Lover, Raspberry Beret, Jungle Love

James Carr - The Dark End Of The Street

The Beatles - Blackbird

John Lennon (Donny Hathaway version) - Jealous Guy (at the goldenplec block party with Zaska)

Ariana Grande - Problem

Warren G - Regulate (mashup with Problem)

James Blake - Retrograde

Tom Waits - Strange Weather

Florence and the Machine - Cosmic Love

Stevie Wonder - Living for the City, As, Sir Duke

Sting - 7 Days

The BeeGees - To Love Somebody

Lauryn Hill - Doo Wop (that thing)

Amerie - One Thing

Skip James (Alvin Youngblood Hart version) - Illinois Blues

Muddy Waters - Catfish Blues

Van Morrison - Caravan, Sweet Thing, Domino, Brown Eyed Girl, Saint Dominic’s Preview

Bill Withers - Ain’t No Sunshine, Use Me

Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know

Demi Lovato - Sorry Not Sorry

Led Zeppelin - Whole Lotta Love

Fun - We Are Young

Paul Simon - Bridge Over Troubled Water

Sam Smith - Lay Me Down

Destiny’s Child - Say My Name

Britney Spears - Toxic (snippet)

The Band - The Weight

Otis Rush version of Willie Dixon and the Big Three Trio - My Love Will Never Die

The Talking Heads - Burning Down the House (Instagram live messing around with friends)

The Staple Singers - Let’s Do it Again

The Weather Forecast 🤪

Ed Lewis - I Be So Glad When the Sun Goes Down (Instagram snippet)

Mavis Staples - Eyes on the Prize

Jackie Wilson - (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher

The Meters - Just Kissed My Baby

Traffic (song originally by Traffic, Andrew covered the Joe Cocker version) - Feeling Alright

Bruce Cockburn - Lovers In A Dangerous Time

Christmas Songs - God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, Winter Wonderland, Santa Claus is Coming to Town (with others at the Xmas Eve Ball 2015)

Traditional Irish songs - My Lagan Love, The Humours of Whiskey, I Am Stretched On Your Grave, The Rolling Wave (on the low whistle), The Parting Glass, The Lonely Jig (on the low whistle)

(Live) Collabs - that are not Andrew’s own songs

Alvin Youngblood Hart - Illinois Blues

Maren Morris - The Bones, My Church, Girl, The Tree

Annie Lennox - I Put a Spell on You (Screamin Jay Hawkins cover)

Tom Odell - Another Love

Noah Kahan - Northern Attitude

Allison Russell - Requiem, Stop Dragging My Heart Around (Stevie Nicks & Tom Petty cover)

Brandi Carlile - The Joke, Walk On (U2 cover), The Weight (The Band cover)

Jamala - Walk On (U2 cover)

Mavis Staples - The Weight (The Band cover), Keep Your Eyes on the Prize (with Our Native Daughters, Jason Isbell and Phil Cook)

Boygenius - Salt in the Wound

Alana Henderson - Ae Fond Kiss (poem by Robert Burns)

U2 - When Love Comes to Town

Tori Kelly - Blackbird (the Beatles cover)

Mumford and Sons - Timshel, Awake My Soul, With a Little Help From My Friends (Beatles cover, with other artists)

Lake Street Dive - Everyday People (Sly and the Family Stone cover)

Rachael Price - Rental Love

Victoria Canal - Swan Song

Elwood (his dog) - Don’t Go Breaking My Heart (Elton John and Kiki Dee cover, Insta snippet)

All the artists at Love Rocks NYC 2022 - Like A Rolling Stone (Bob Dylan cover), Feeling Alright (Traffic cover)

Brian Kennedy (and others) - I Wish I Knew How It Would Feel to Be Free (Nina Simone cover)

His Dad - The Weight (The Band cover at MSG)

Zaska, Wyvern Lingo, Loah - Sir Duke (Stevie Wonder cover)

Eabha McMahon - Bright Blue Rose (Jimmy McCarthy cover)

Brittany Howard - Feeling Alright (Joe Cocker version cover)

Joan Baez - We Shall Overcome, The Weight (The Band cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2015

Bono, Glen Hansard - When Love Comes to Town, Every Breaking Wave

Glen Hansard, Imelda May - The Dark End of the Street (James Carr cover)

Christmas Eve Busk 2017

Glen Hansard, Coronas, Imelda May, Liam O Maonlaoi - So This is Christmas (John Lennon cover), The Aul Triangle

Music Groups

Nova Collective - (original songs) Tuile, Closer, Quick Bossa

Zaska - (original songs) In Your Own Sweet Time, Different Light, She Gunk Gunk Dunk A Funk, Oh Yeah

Anuna - with Andrew on lead vocals: The Raid, La Chanson de Mardi Gras. With Andrew in the choir: Jingle Bells, An Uaithne

The Wiggles - Cherry Tree Carol with Anuna

Trinity Orchestra - songs covered with Andrew on lead vocals

~ Queen - Somebody To Love, Don’t Stop Me Now

~ Arcade Fire - My Body is a Cage

~ Pink Floyd - Time, Breathe, Comfortably Numb, Shine on You Crazy Diamond, Money

~ Michael Jackson - Earth Song, Black or White, Smooth Criminal

~ David Bowie - Heroes

*This list may not be complete. It only contains songs that can be found online.

Please let me know if any songs are missing so I can add them 🫶

I’ve not included the songs he sang snippets of on that Song Association interview

[postcard-from-the-past]

Residence of Grand Duke Paul Alexandrovich of Russia in Boulogne-sur-Seine, western suburbs of Paris

French vintage postcard, mailed in 1911

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[Paul Atreides x Reader] 1179 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? ARRAIGNED MARRIAGE TROPE EXCEPT BOTH PARTIES ARE PISSY ABOUT IT, not proofread LOL.

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: ITS HERE! Sadly, there will be longer times between updates. But to mitigate that I have decided that shorter chapters and for frequent chapters will do better for my writing stamina

Previous chapter Next chapter (coming soon…)

Dune Masterlist

Eight———

The great hall is exceptionally expansive, its high ceilings supported by massive wooden beams. The room is filled with guests, all dressed in their finest attire, the women in flowing gowns and the men in tailored suits. The windows are bedecked with heavy velvet drapes, though right now they're left open to let in the soft golden light of the afternoon sun.

At the far end of the hall, you see the altar where the officiant stands, poised and expectant. Before him stands Paul, his figure tall and commanding, a vision in his ceremonial attire.

The atmosphere in the room is electric, charged with excitement and anticipation, yet you can’t help but feel anything other than fear. The guests are silent, their eyes fixed on you as you make way down the aisle. The music swells softly, its notes a perfect accompaniment to the scene unfolding before you.

Countless factions and political powerhouses are in attendance, all sat in organized sections waiting to bear witness. The Bene Gesserit stand in the shadows, Irulan eyes sticking out behind her veil. You give her a curt nod. Each step is carefully calculated and filled with poise. You carry a small smile on your face as you elegantly approach the altar. A facade of power.

As you make your way to stand in front of Paul, your heart is pounding in your chest. The officiant speaks, commanding the attention of the room. "we are gathered here today to witness the joining of two illustrious houses," he begins, his voice resonant and clear. "House Corino is an ancient line renowned for their wisdom and strength, their rule over the great empire marked by benevolence and prosperity. and joining them is the house of atreides, heirs to a long-standing legacy of honor and courage, their reputation built upon fearless leadership and unwavering loyalty."

as the officiant continues his speech, his voice takes on a more somber tone. "however, even in the grand tapestry of empires, a darker shadow looms. the emperor's rule has been marked by greed and corruption, injustice and tyranny. the empire has become a prisoner of its own vices, its people suffering under the weight of its excesses."

"but now," he declares, his voice rising with newfound hope. "with the union of these two great houses, a beacon of change has appeared." he turns to you and Paul, his eyes gleaming with optimism. "the atreides-corino union represents a hope for a new era, a time of prosperity and justice that will transform the empire for generations to come!"

As his voice rings through the room as you and Paul stand side by side observing the short applause. Dignitaries from all areas of the spacing guild and known universe have come to witness the eminent shift of power. The lesser houses hoped for more riches and power while the great houses feared for their standing within the new empire.

Breathe. That’s what you remind yourself. Just breathe. You have the weight of an empire on your shoulders yet you hold your head high. You refuse to falter, there is no room for weakness within this court; this you know very well.

the officiant looks towards you and Paul once more, a soft smile playing on his lips. "and so, as the stars witness this union, may the wisdom and strength of the golden lion, the honor and courage of the atreides, and the hope for a brighter future coalesce in this moment, and forever change the course of the empire's history. let the union be sealed, and the new epoch begin!"

He guides the two of you to a lavish table where union documents are played out. Paul approaches first as the room is filled with an eerie silence. He takes a deep breath before glancing down at his fathers ducal signet, pouring out a small puddle of wax and pressing his fist into it, leaving an impression of the Atredies crest. He steps back and motions for you to go next.

As you walk up you notice the existing signatures recognizing this marriage. High court officials, Lady Jessica, and your father. His lavish signature mocks you from the paper. His last decree is the overturning of his power. You take a deep breath and grab the pen layed on the table and sign your name. It is done.

Your feet trail backwards and your back is met with the arm of Paul, who then swiftly turns you to face the audience.

“House Corino and House Atreides have been conjoined! Through sickness and health, times of peace and times of war; this union will stand triumphant.” The officiant speaks into the air before turning to you and stating your name and title, “Do you recognize this union?”

Without thinking you begin to speak, “I do.” Your voice doesn’t falter.

“Duke Atreides , do you recognize this union?”

You feel Paul slightly stiffen before speaking, “I do”

From the pedestal adjacent to where you and Paul are standing lay the wedding bands. Within moments they are presented to the two of you, you with Paul’s and him with yours. No explanation is needed for the next steps.

Paul’s hand reaches for your left and you raise it to him. His hands are rough and slightly scarred, from training and perhaps Arrakis, as they slip your ring on.

It’s anything but delicate, the titanium wraps around your finger coming to a plateau at the top where a compacted sphere of spice encased in some preservative lay. It's similar to Paul’s, which you hold in your right hand. A silver band with spice marbling that demands your attention.

Your eyes flicker up to meet him as he releases your hand and outstretches his left. You slip the ring on before averting your gaze to the officiant. The silence in the room is broken.

“Duke Atreides, you may kiss your bride.” He states.

You turn your eyes to meet Paul’s before taking a deep breath. A kiss to seal your fate. The entire sentiment is ironic to you, such a soft and delicate act to mark the beginning of such struggle and pain. You have yet to see it but something within you shudders with the weight of the future.

Your eyes lock with Paul’s blue eyes as he leans in, his face cupping your cheek before his lips meet yours. His lips are soft and warm, a slight twinge that reminds you of cinnamon. Spice. Power over spice is power over all. A power which you are soon to hold.

As you pull away you wonder if Paul will falter under the weight of the crown. There is a want within him which you have yet to place, a want that proceeds past that of wealth and power. In the short time you have gotten to know your now husband, you have learnt a few things about him. He is strong and loyal like his father was yet cunning and intelligent like his mother. He has seen things you cannot even imagine, the significance of the power he holds terrifies you, yet you fear more for what power this union will birth.

———

Next chapter

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