The Horny Jail

She waves her hands in a peculiar motion and you gasp as a blue thread of magic bursts into being, wound tight around your lower abdomen. 

You hesitantly reach out and lay a hand over it, breathing shakily as you feel the steady thrum of magic beneath it. 

She waves her hands once more and it dissolves into your body, leaving you shaken. 

Leto rushes towards you, wrapping an arm around your middle and tucking you into his chest with his other, his hand gently stroking your hair. 

Your breaths come out in panicked bursts. How long? How long had someone else had control over you like this? And if not Leto or Jessica, Who? 

You vaguely register Leto shushing you, scooping you up under the legs and bringing you to sit with him at his desk. You feel Jessica approach, but you do not hear the whispered words that pass between her and your husband over the drone of your blood in your ears. 

The sound of the door opening reaches you, followed by the soft click of closing. Minutes pass, and the whispered words finally tumble from your lips. 

“Do you promise?” 

Leto looks down at you, brow furrowed. 

“Do I promise what, darling?” 

“Do you promise it wasn’t you?” You half choke on a sob. 

Heartbreak flashes across his face. 

“I swear to you. This was not my doing, nor do I know who’s doing it is, but I can swear to you that we will get to the bottom of it.” 

You can feel his honesty through your pact. 

You snuggle back into him, just needing the comfort and warmth only he can provide in this moment. 

In the stillness of the study your emotions begin to swirl, beginning with sorrow, a sorrow that tightens your chest and brings fresh tears to your eyes that not even Leto’s soothing presence can attend to. 

“It’s not fair.” You whisper. 

He squeezes you tighter. 

“I know darling, I know. But we’ll fix this. I promise.”

You nod twice. You’ll fix it, you know you will. 

The grumbling of your stomach cuts through the silence of the room. 

With a sigh, you remove yourself from his arms, feet softly landing on the ground once more. Leto gives you a small smile, squeezing your hands once more before letting them drop. 

“Shall we call Paul down for dinner? Or do you think he’s already eaten tonight?” Maybe dinner will provide enough of a distraction to keep me from crying again. 

“He may have nibbled at a snack earlier but he knows to wait for mealtime. When he was younger he’d spoil his dinner constantly by asking the chefs for treats, they’ve never been able to tell him no. I dare say they still can’t, but at least Paul knows better now.” He states with a small smile. 

You give him one of your own in return. You enjoy the more domestic side of him–-thinking of him as anything other than a stoic and slightly scary businessman seems so strange now, but marriage has brought him into a new light for your eyes only. 

He rises from the desk and offers his arm, which you graciously accept. It strikes you then that you’ve never felt more like husband and wife than in that moment, utterly cared for and adored. 

Leto brings you to the dining room, pulling a chair out for yourself before rounding the long table to sit across from you. I really must suggest a less formal table for some meals, this massive thing is too big for just the three of us.  You think, craving the smaller, friendlier breakfast table of your childhood home. I’ll ask tomorrow. Decision made, you set your napkin in your lap, waiting for whatever surprise the chefs have whipped up for the night. 

Paul can be heard bounding down the stairs, and you stifle a chuckle as Leto looks to the entryway with one eyebrow raised. You hear him skid to a halt just outside, before using more measured steps to approach the table. 

“Good evening.” He addresses you both, giving a small bow. 

You glance from Leto and his now-approving look to Paul as he takes a seat a few spaces away from each of you. 

“If this is on my account, I promise you need not bow for dinner. We’re family now, I’m certainly not going to be formal every second of the day, so I don’t expect you to be either.” 

A slight blush creeps up Paul’s neck as a grin splits Leto’s face. He gives a small laugh. 

“You’ll have to forgive me darling, it’s an old habit. I’ll just make sure we all mind our manners when company comes. My apologies, son.” 

Paul looks at his father with all the warmth of the sun. 

“Apology accepted, I promise I’ll keep my decorum for company.” 

You spare Leto a glance and he throws you a wink, making it your turn to blush. You try to cover it by dabbing your face with your napkin, but with two werewolves at the table, the heightened pounding of your heartbeat is unlikely to go unnoticed. 

Blessedly, dinner arrives at the table: roast chicken and herbs with roasted potatoes–the smell alone is enough to soothe you. 

The conversation is light as you all dine: Paul details the latest ongoings from the city center, getting uproarious laughter from Leto as he describes the mishaps of an old packmate, including somehow drunkenly bargaining for a small steamboat and having no recollection of how or why. 

“The old man still has his negotiating skills, even when he’s drunk. My goodness.” Leto laughs as Paul scarfs down his food. 

This feels good. It feels like the first time you’ve all been truly comfortable at this table. No lies, no secrets. 

Your smile drops. 

One secret. But that’s not yours to tell, Leto will tell Paul about Jessica when the time is right. 

You fix your face quickly, lest either of them sus out your thoughts. 

“Have they already announced the theme for this year’s theatre benefit?” You’d remembered they were usually around this time of year, the theatre company always put on a stunning gala to benefit the next year’s productions and any needed repairs to the venues. 

“Oh yes!” Paul mumbles through bites of food. You giggle as he quickly chews in order to respond. 

“It’s okay, you can finish chewing first, it’s not that important!”

He swallows quickly. “I know it might not be important but it certainly is exciting! The theme for this year is Masquerade in the Garden. So we all get to wear masks as well as our costumes!” 

Your heart soars. 

“Oh how lovely! I must go down and volunteer for the committee, I’m sure I can be of use somewhere.” You’d been dragged to so many events over the years you’d considered yourself an honorary committee member of each. Besides, committees were standard for a wife’s social life, they ensured her family was always invited to the biggest and best events, and helped bolster her good name among the other ladies in town. 

“We’ll have to see,” Leto responds lightly. 

Ah. you’re wise enough to understand that’s husband-speak for “We’ll talk about this later.” 

The only sounds left in the room are those of utensils on plates and food being devoured. 

Paul heaves a great sigh as he leans back in his chair, plate so clean you’d wonder if he’d even been served, except for the content look on his face. 

“No room for dessert then?” You ask with a smile. He straightens, eyes glittering. 

“What are we having?” He looks so happy you almost feel bad at joking with him like that. 

“To be honest I don’t know if we do have dessert, but I’m sure we can ask them to put together a crumble if there wasn’t one planned for tonight.” 

And just like that, dessert comes rolling through the doors on a tea cart: delicate blueberry cakes. 

You both share a look of shocked delight before looking to Leto, who only smiles and casts his eyes toward the table. 

It is safe to say dessert is thoroughly enjoyed by all in attendance; Paul’s is gone in a flash as you attempt to savor each little bite. When you’re done, Leto rises, making his way around to scoot out your chair, offering his hand to help you stand. You place your hand in his, and he gives it a gentle kiss as you rise. 

“Goodnight, son.” Leto smiles fondly at Paul. 

“Goodnight to you both.” Paul remains seated at the table. 

“Hoping for seconds?” you chuckle. 

“Something like that.” He laughs. “I’m going to see if I can get a glass of milk before heading up for the night, something to compliment the cake.” 

“Very fair indeed. Goodnight, Paul.” Leto leads you out of the dining room and back up the stairs to the master suite. 

You both ready yourselves for bed leisurely, the silence as comfortable as your shared duvet. You cast your eyes to the window, mentally picturing what the last crimson rays of daylight may have looked like just hours prior. Lost in thought, you sink into Leto when he wraps his arms around you, chin resting atop your head. You must look so domestic in that moment, loving husband and wife in a comfortable embrace. You could picture it as a painting now: your forms lit by starlight, the warm glow of the room, and in the corner--

Your breath catches, eyes turning towards the perfect spot for the cradle you'd pictured. The sadness washes over you once more, enveloping you in it's own cold, unwanted embrace. 

Leto holds you tighter in a quiet show of support, sensing your distress. As the minutes tick by and your thoughts swim through your internal hurricane, sadness turns to simmering rage, threatening to spill out of your shaking hands and clenched teeth. 

How dare they? How DARE they take this from you? 

Leto’s hold on you loosens, he leans back to examine you, looking thoroughly worried. 

“Darling?” 

The question hangs in the air as you wrestle with the last fraying bits of your composure. You cannot tamp down your anger when you meet his eyes, even to reassure him. Your fury demands to be felt. 

“They’ve made a mistake by choosing us, my love.” Every word drips with venom. “They made an awful, terrible mistake. I’ve always had the habit of holding onto grudges, even from childhood. My mother told me all they would do is make me bitter. But this–”

You turn, clasping his hand and gently bring it to your lips. 

“This I will seek retribution for. I’m not asking for permission, and I won’t beg for forgiveness when it’s done. I’ll do my best to keep the rest of the family out of it, but I will be pursuing it. After all–” a humorless chuckle passes your lips, “ladies know a great many ways to ruin a life through the proper channels; and I’ve spent the entirety of my existence watching people who thought they were invincible fall to absolute ruin.” 

“You have my full support darling.” He squeezes your hand, resting his forehead against your own. “I think it’s high time the Atreides were re-introduced to the social scene. A reminder is long overdue. The pack will work with Jessica to help lead us in the right direction, sniff out any dissidents in the area. While you and I–” he pulls away to face you fully, “will do our due diligence as Master and Mistress Atreides.” 

“Thank you.” you whisper in return. 

“I swear to you that this will not go unpunished. In the meantime, you and I will operate as normal. If they see us fall into despair they’ll know they’ve won. Whoever cast the spell or had the spell cast on their behalf will come out of the woodwork soon enough to start inquiring about it.” 

You nod once. A saboteur is hardly satisfied if they don’t know they’ve succeeded.  

Have they truly succeeded though? You aren’t necessarily a woman of science, but you do believe that perhaps that theory is worth testing.

 After all, Leto did say his rut was coming soon, and the purpose was to mate. If you truly can’t have children right now, why not play with fire? The idea lights a fire of your own in your belly, and your brain quiets for the first time today. 

Leto notes the change in your mood, giving you a rather quizzical look as you gaze up at him from under your lashes. 

“Darling,” you let your hands creep forward, relishing in his near-silent gasp when your hands slowly start to trail up his chest, until they rest on his shoulders, one lovingly caressing his face. 

“Yes?” He exhales, utterly unsure of what’s going on in this moment. 

“If we were going to have the spell cast anyway,” you nuzzle along his jaw, “Why not take full advantage of these moments? You can go through rut without worrying now.” you gently nibble his ear, and he groans, slowly pushing you away from him. You pout. 

“As much as I’m grateful we won’t have to worry about children before we’re ready, I don’t think now is the right time to give in to desire. It’s been a very emotionally taxing few days, how about we take the next few days to re-center ourselves? That gives me time to more fully prepare you for what you might encounter during my rut. Rushing into it the first time isn’t exactly a great idea.” He gives you a chaste kiss, your lips chasing after his own as they retreat. You whine in impatience. 

“I promise, if you can wait until tomorrow I will make sure you are thoroughly satisfied.” Normally that sort of statement would make you blush, but right now you’re just plain annoyed at his refusal.  

You whine. “Fine.” 

He tuts. “I promise this is for the best.” Another kiss laid to your forehead. 

Unhappily, you settle into bed—your mood only lifts when Leto presses his warm chest to your back, dropping a kiss to your hair before slinging his arm over your waist. Sleep comes easily. 

It’s nearly pitch black outside when you wake, the soft patter of rain on the windowsill the only sounds in the room. By straining your ears you can tell it’s properly pouring outside. 

You sigh, and turn in Leto’s embrace to face him, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. You’re not ready to face the day, not yet. You feel the deep rumble of his chuckle before you hear it. 

“That tickles.” He mumbles, eyes still closed. 

You stifle your laugh. 

“Sorry. Never took you for the ticklish type.” You playfully tickle his ribs, which makes him squirm to the side. 

“Ah ah—knock it off” his words fall on deaf ears, you’re now a woman with a mission. You straddle him quickly and proceed to attack his sides with soft tickles, both of you laughing like maniacs. 

In an instant Leto has you flipped onto your back, chest heaving and breathless from laughter, hands pinned on either side of your head. 

“The great Leto Atreides is ticklish. I’ll definitely be keeping that information in my arsenal for later.” You tease. 

“And what’s the price for your silence on the matter of my ticklishness?” He grins down at you, eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“Hmmm.” You pretend to be deep in thought. “What are you willing to offer?” 

He drops a series of scorching kisses to your collarbones and the column of your throat. 

“How about a library renovation and expansion?” He mutters between kisses. 

You shake your head in an attempt to clear it. 

“Something tells me you had that planned anyway.” 

His Cheshire cat grin as he looks up at you is downright sinful. 

“I’m sure I can think of a few other things that are worth your silence on the matter.”