HELLO! This is an independent & selective RP blog for various characters from SCIENCE FICTION primarily BOOK & HEADCANON based. Below you’ll find some helpful links that’ll assist you in interacting with this blog. Written by Darks, 26+.

Tradition was only tradition if it was upheld. It wasn't hard to see the way she tensed and glared. She could break tradition. She could slaughter him and try to run back to her desert.

But that would only cause more death, not just for herself, but for her people. This foreign concept of a union was the only strand that kept the Padishah Emperor from exterminating the indigenous people of the planet. Savages was still the common comparison of her people.

The Atreides was right. To rule the planet, one needed the Fremen. If following this tradition was his leg up into it, then he'd try his best to understand and follow those forms.

If he ever had the room to acknowledge a very specific thought, it would be that they both were still very much children. He could not acknowledge or even fathom a thought such as that.

He'd never played games or had friends. he'd never worried over the opinions or interests of his piers.

He'd never known how to be a child or that he was at the end stage of being one.

"Did I kill him?" he asked, and it struck him as odd that she now would lower her tone so after all that noise she had made. He'd killed many people back on his homeworld... and one person here. The degrees of death were all different and stained his hands with varying shades, but the way she speaks made him feel as if he had killed another here.

"Do you need someone to blame?" He asked in her same tone. "The rules of Kanly have been met." he started, ' and that Stilgar said...I was promised two years of your time. " There was no doubt she had heard what he'd told the Atreides. But those words warranted the acceptation he was presented with as a slave. That was not how he accepted her.

and in accepting, many of the Fremen fighters were spared. Her forms said two years but as long as she stayed his concubine, she was safe from any retribution of the Imperium. Nothing of the Atreides remained.

"I did meet the old Planetologist once." His eyes were on her then. His Uncle hadn't like their interaction. Jealousy sat poorly on him in that way. "At the meeting of the Landsraad. we talked about snow."

did she know what that was?

For a moment he looked hopeful, pleading with the face of a child for any moment out in the frozen hellscape like it was only a light dusting. the moments were farther and fewer between.

The hope died with the mention of his Uncle. His Uncle who would have wanted to know every single detail and second of the trip. His Uncle who would look over the reports and find some fault with them to call him forth for further instruction on how to 'improve'.

Feyd's gaze went back to the storm window and the snow outside. Any bit of truth in his stance or his expression suppressed into a rigid back and emotionless face. Piter had taught him the face; the pits had taught him the posture.

"Then he'll want both the furrier's reports and the re-cultivation reports as well." He finally looked back at the mentat. If there was a notion of something sweet, Feyd had already dismissed it as a false hope, thinking over every avenue of how quickly his Uncle would want them back to Giedi Prime and within the palace.

It was another stretch of sleeplessness. His mind had been running, thinking over any and every little thing that needed done that day ( and well into the night.). He overthought every little mistake, too.

He hadn't slept the night before that and only rested his eyes for a few hours the night that predecessed the former, but he did not submit to anything of substantial worthwhile sleep.

It was always worse when he was anxious like this. With the duties of the Barony added to that, it only made things worse.

But when Irulan said come, he went, his arm offered so that her hand might wrap around it. When she said sit he sat. And now found himself in the comfortable position to lie beside her.

She'd tricked him into this, he wasn't blind. A moment of safety in her arms was worth the tricking. Slowly, like a cat trying to slink it's way into a warm lap, he snaked an arm around her waist.

( it was not close enough, if he had had the gut and the gall, he'd be skin to skin with her instead of holding the folds of fabric around her, buried in her hair and finally close enough. But he knew his hands would stain and those marks would never come off. He wasn't brave enough to ask, he wasn't worthy enough, either.)

He liked the soft nature of her voice as she read aloud. It didn't matter if it was someone else had written those word or if she had herself, as long as she cared enough to share it with him he was content and happy to listen.

Slowly, so slowly, he let his eyes sag. He didn't like to sleep, he couldn't let it take him. he tried to stay awake, despite how relaxed he felt. He couldn't fight in his sleep, he couldn't-- that was when he felt her fingers through his hair and in that near sleep could only conjure a different set of hands that had done such a thousand times... and he felt all the horrors that came after them.

His eyes shot open, forcefully pushing himself up and away--pushing her away-- before he'd made contact with the floor with the propulsion of his own force.

Quick as he could, he sat up, trying to get to his feet as his own hands went to his head, trying to shake the sensation out of his hair.

It wouldn't have had happened this way if he was stronger. If he had been smarter he could have kept himself safe.

When he was younger there was no fighting back, but now he and his Uncle both knew what he was capable of It didn't matter if his Uncle was a thousand pounds of flesh, Feyd only needed to be stronger than the suspensors that kept him upright. He could safely say he could lift that man and given his time participating in the fighting pits, Feyd knew he could kill him. It wouldn't be hard to commit that treason.

That's when the Baron began to be invested in his health. He didn't like it when anything was out of his control or ended without his say.

He began forcing 'vitamins' and 'vaccinations' that luckily grew on Piter's nerves. That was when Feyd thought to educate himself on the nature of those poisons that were being forced in his body.

He felt foolish for thinking that even Piter's way of caring and his spiteful nature towards his Uncle might keep him safe.

Feyd-Rautha was learning how to protect himself, but it was not enough. He was getting stronger and becoming more aware of poisons and other drugs. He had to, to safely combat them. Piter always said that only the ignorant fool was one who stopped trying to learn .

He just didn't think his Uncle would have let gas into his room. Feyd had barely smelt the slight off tinge of the gas before he hit the floor. He couldn't move, couldn't react. The horror of it was that his Uncle didn't want him entirely unconscious. He just wanted what he wanted without worry of his own bodily harm.

Now, there was no where to hide from him. Gas could be anywhere.

He still couldn't feel his hands now, and felt so ashamed for Glossu to find him the way he did. He hated the thought that he had needed help after all that. He despised and regretted hat Glossu could see how dirty it all was.

How could he even look at Feyd now after finding him like that? He should have been smarter. He should have been stronger.

If he was not as grown as he was, he might have cried. He certainly heaved when offered water earlier, still somewhat paralyzed within, but if he was not grown he would have tried to hide in his brother and begged to be taken away.

But he was not young. He was nearly a man and he could do nothing.

"She's my friend." He said plainly. He had never had a friend before-- or at least one that was genuine enough to be anything real. From what little interaction he had, it was with those in the slave quarters or prisoners to spar with.

But he couldn't count those as friends. Not when their positions in life pitted them against each other. Surviving the day was always the priority. Especially under the Baron's roof. That was the greatest thing they had in common.

The word sat strangely in his mouth, his expression trying to decide if it had been the right word. No, she hated him at first. He didn't think she hated him now, he certainly didn't hate her.

Actually, what had developed was a much more enjoyable experience. She was a different kind of friend. Her hand fit in his. He fingers intertwined with his. There were moments in the morning hours that other saved for the dark. It wasn't simply pulling teeth anymore to gain footing on this planet or try and gain political clout as his house consisted now of only himself. In that sense, he needed Irulan in much of the same manner.

"Are you jealous?" He asked, his feelings clearly showing on his face. "You and I aren't like that." Aren't friends like that. he said decidedly. "Are you jealous?"

Try as he might, there was no use in suppressing the smirk that slipped through his best efforts not to laugh. "I did not think you would want... that." He clearly looked confused. " Not when that is the least of what is between us." No one could hold a candle to Irulan. No, she sat high up on the top shelf like a glass plate painted with blue little designs. She was something precious . Something beloved.

"Feel better?" He asked, breathing deep and hard. He was trying to catch his breath, having finally sat down beside her.

They were in a grand ball room in the Arrakeen, one that held fast to her ideal of water seals while boasting the opulence of the keep infrastructure.

Here, she wouldn't have to worry about her rhythm or her silence. There were many exits and yet they were completely alone.

" My brother used to say..." he took a breath, " holding everything in..." he paused again, catching his breath, " makes you sloppy."

He had encouraged her to scream. He'd encouraged her to fight him, to try and end him, though her conventions of her Tahaddi rule forbade it, given how he accepted her. He'd accepted her as a wife amongst her own people for a reason. He'd have to talk to Irulan and explain in his own time, but securing the Fremen both secured his path to Irulan, and prevented more genocide. There was too much in the balance, and he was only a young person. She had every reason to hate him. She wasn't alone, he hated himself, too.

One misstep meant the end of everything. "Can we put it aside now?" He asked, his voice quieting in her way if only to reach her, the both of them finished in this dance of combat. " I've bested you. Can we... can we stop fighting each other?" Thufir would have cautioned kindness and Piter would have suggested caution above kindness. He was trying his best to remember those lessons.

"I need you." He said and decided on the blunt honesty that his brother always promised him, if only in private. "You are my wife. I need you as that. And I need you for your own people's sake. " Maybe she'd listen. He couldn't be sure she'd catch her breath and still hate him and all of it would have been for nothing. Two years would go by unproductively and it would all be wasted.

He needed her on his side now.

      whatever the baron was scheming that had brought him here early, she would think on it later. all that mattered in this moment was the man in front of her. close as they were, she stepped even close, having to tilt her chin up to look at him properly. the palm that held the ring flattened against his, not giving the ring back, but connected them though it. ‘ i’d like you to put it on me properly, if you don’t mind. ‘ even if it wasn’t that ring, rings still held some level of significance. and, well, she was curious to see which finger he meant it to be on. 

“Properly, hm?” He teased looking down at her. He could rest his chin atop her head with the difference in height between them, but he’s content to watch the light dance off of her bright eyes. His Uncle would turn this into one of his grand schemes. Her Royal father would be insulted of the scandal of them meeting alone like this. There was nothing genuine within the Landsraad. There was nothing good on Giedi Prime and he only had moments at a time for what good could be found on the desolation of Lankiveil. Out of all that, she was the best thing. He could lay down his armor with her.