#cauliflowercounty

Breaking your kiss reluctantly, Feyd looks around at the twenty some odd soldiers you’ve both just killed, exhilaration and admiration for you still coursing through his veins.   “I’m sorry to do this, but I must ask something of you, Feyd,” you say, looking down at both of your garments saturated in blood. 

“Anything,” he responds without a second thought. He knows he means it.  

“You must not let anyone know what I showed you or that I was fighting alongside you tonight.” You walk over and pick up your second blade that Feyd tossed away, strapping it back to your thigh along with the other one.  Next, you collect Ozran’s knife and hand it to Feyd. It’s light and flimsy in his grasp compared to your daggers, truly a laughable excuse for a murder weapon.  An animal being killed for supper deserves to be killed by a better blade than this. You fasten your cloak back onto your person, and it consumes your body again, making it seem as if you hadn’t just butchered half the dead around you. “These are my best kept secrets. You must say that it was you who killed all of our attackers.”

“Of course,” he replies, and you press a soft kiss on his lips in thanks.  As soon as he leans in to kiss you back, approaching footsteps become audible.  It’s your father, the baron, and a fleet of Youran guards with their weapons drawn.

“Let’s give them a little show, shall we?” you whisper against his lips. As soon as they come into view, Feyd feels you fall into his arms, spotting delicate tears collecting on lower lashes. He brings his arms around you, cradling your figure as you sink to the ground and begin quaking in his embrace, which makes his heart twinge. 

Your father calls out to you, aghast as he spots the dead bodies surrounding you and Feyd.  The look on your father’s face is as if he’s worried you might turn to dust. He kneels beside you, taking you out of Feyd’s arms and into his own. “We heard commotion from the castle and came as quickly as we could. Are you injured, my darling child?  What happened?” 

“F-Father, I am alright, ” you quiver, breath shaky as you lean into him.  “It was so scary, though! Na-Baron and I were on a nighttime stroll, and suddenly a poisoned dart flew out of nowhere and nearly hit me.  When we looked over to see where it came from, Ozran was approaching us with a wild look in his eyes.” You’re sobbing into your Father’s chest at this point, tear stains soaking into your father’s clothes, and Feyd cannot help but be impressed by your theatrics.  “Ozran said he was unhappy with our dealings with House Harkonnen. He meant to kill us to make a point, but Na-Baron courageously disarmed Ozran and struck him down. As soon as that happened, Ozran’s loyalists began to strike, but they were no match for Na-Baron.”

Hearing those words, Feyd sees his uncle lift his chin up in pride, delighting in the thought of Feyd emerging victorious over twenty, killing in cold blood. Your father lets out a sigh of relief, pulling you closer in his arms as he holds the back of your head.  “It’s alright, y/n. You are still alive, and Ozran cannot hurt you any longer,” he whispers before looking up to Feyd.  “Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha. I am most grateful. Thank you for saving my daughter from those criminals.  I am in your debt.”

Feyd sees his Uncle’s eyes glimmer with excitement.  Your father shouldn’t have said that.  His uncle never passed up an opportunity to prey on those indebted to the Harkonnens. Before, Feyd also enjoyed the manipulation of other peoples, but now that his uncle has his sights set on you, a growing sense of unease begins to build, and he can’t bring himself to look at his uncle. 

“It was my honor to fight for your daughter tonight,” Feyd replies. “I am glad I was here to protect her life, and I would do the same again.”

Your father brings you to your feet, your cloak still concealing your stained battle gear underneath.  You bring the back of your hand up to wipe away your tears, letting out a meek sniffle.  Feyd keeps trying to remind himself that what you’re doing is just and act, a way of protecting your secrets from his devious uncle, but Feyd’s chest continues to ache seeing you cry. If he had his way, nothing would make you shed a tear ever again.

“If there were this many attackers tonight, that means we have unrest on our hands. There are sure to be more of them.”  your father says, turning to one of the soldiers. “Call the citizens to the castle, and prepare the thrones.”  

“Yes, My Lord,” the guard says, turning on his heel and hurrying away, and Feyd watches as he disappears.

“I do hope this does not mean the marriage will be called off,” Baron Vladimir interjects with a leading stare at your father.  Your father shakes his head straight away. 

“Of course not, Baron.  I value our alliance.  We will handle our people. I assure you, the marriage will happen on Giedi Prime,” your father says as the sound of a horn reverberates across the island nation.  “Would you be present for the address tonight?”

His uncle obliges, and the guards guide everyone through the winding hallways.  After a few minutes, they exit the fortress through another set of doors, and the group emerges onto an enormous stone platform overlooking an open basin lined with towering columns. Two grand thrones stand in the middle of the platform: one for you and one for your father.  Instead of stone like their surroundings, they’re made of thick, twisty branches of a rich, dark wood that have grown into the shape of chairs.  It’s almost as if these chairs were borne out of the very nature on the island.

Feyd looks down to the land below the platform.  People are quickly gathering below at a remarkable rate.  He sees citizens emerging from all directions from the surrounding mountain range.  Multiple cable cars whose lines stretch from inside the forest to the basin approach. Light shines outward from the compartments, and Feyd sees they’re positively filled with people. When the cars meet the ground, the stained glass doors open and people flow out and into the crowd while others run across the wooden bridges out from under the trees. 

Your father beckons all of you forward once the crowd has amassed.  When you and your father come into the people’s view, there is a roar of cheers.  Feyd sees people start to raise their hands and clap for you as the crowd begins a melodic chanting of “House Ronen!  House Ronen!”  The way they rally for their leaders is earnest and true, a sight to behold. 

You take a seat at your throne as your father does.  You gesture to Feyd to come stand behind your chair and the baron floats beside your father’s throne.  When the crowd spots the Harkonnens, some of the cheers turn to murmurs, which rumble through the group as more people begin to whisper to one another.  Your father raises his palm to the people, and they fall silent.

“Thank you, my dear friends, for coming at this hour.  I would not have called you if I didn’t think it was important,” your father’s voice booms.  “We have something very important to tell you tonight."

He gestures over to you and you rise from your seat and step forward, once again holding your cape closed.  The armed guards advance on the sidelines, holding their weapons at their sides to protect you.  You pause and gaze out at your people before centering yourself, holding your head high with poise appropriate for a lady of your stature. 

“I would like to echo my father’s thanks for your time and presence,” you begin, your voice collected and commanding.  “Not an hour ago, there was an attempt at my life at the Pools of Ashora.” A wave of disbelief propagates through the crowd.  Some cup their hand to their mouths and others begin to whisper to their neighbors. A few let out roars of anger, but Feyd swears he sees a few snigger at the news.

 “Twenty men led by researcher Ozran Neyru ambushed me and Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen tonight.  As you can see, the endeavor to end my life was unsuccessful. During the attack, Ozran told me he and the others were motivated because of my upcoming marriage to Na-Baron Harkonnen, that their belief is I am betraying our ideals by allowing the House of Harkonnen into our circle.  I do not doubt there are others that feel the same as him, and I have come to offer you an explanation, which I feel you all deserve.”

There are nods through the crowd.  Some seem undeniably compelled with your speech while others cross their arms with skepticism. You glance over to your father, gestures with his hand for you to proceed. 

“I have lived on Youra all of my life.  It is my homeland, and a place I care deeply for. When I was seven, I drank from the sacred pool on top of our great mountain, and when I was sixteen, I had my own Rite like each of you.  I know what being Youran is because I have lived it from the moment I took my first breath. I’ve grown up knowing our stories and our traditions, and I love the society we’ve been able to build.

“Looking out upon you tonight under the glow of the lanterns, I think of the tale of Zeyred, who was the first to release lanterns at nighttime to guide the souls of our departed to their final destination amongst the stars after he mistook a shooting star for the soul of his dead mother.  Zeyred used what he thought was the truth and created a wonderful tradition in order to help loved ones on their final journey.  Since then, we have left behind the notion that souls go to the stars once life is over, but we still release lanterns every night to pay our respect for him and the Yourans of his time.  It reminds ourselves of where we come from.” 

Feyd sees an air of nostalgia wash over the crowd and a few clutch their hearts, admiration growing in their eyes as you recount the traditional Youran folktale. 

“This practice of using truth for the betterment of others is ancient, but it still remains the lifeblood of Youra today. By seeking truth in our collective research, we’ve developed elixirs that have eliminated diseases that have historically killed many. We’ve found ways to protect our crops from failure. We’ve made advances in engineering to improve our ships and travel around our planet and beyond, broadening our quest for knowledge. By following truth, our quality of life on Youra has improved because of the choices our predecessors have made more than any of us alive today will ever know or appreciate.  We’ve found countless ways of providing for and protecting others.”  Mumbles of agreement echo from below. Some nod their heads to one another. The citizenry is certainly taking to your argument, and Feyd is in awe of your eloquence and composure. 

“Tonight, I have witnessed an undeniable truth: the prowess of House Harkonnen. I have seen strength, valor, and loyalty in Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, without whom I would not be standing here in front of you. As a woman of Youra, I put my faith in what is real, which is why I am putting my faith in the House of Harkonnen.

“This union is not a departure from our ideals.  If anything, it is a commitment to them. It is my way of protecting you.  It will strengthen our society by putting us under the wing of the greatest major house and those we care for is simply getting a little larger. I have made this decision for the betterment of all of us. I ask you to join me in the celebration of this union when I depart for Giedi Prime.” 

The crowd erupts in cheers as you let out gasp in amazement at the overwhelming support by your people. Even the soldiers around you raise their weapons to the sky in support. You bow to your nation, thanking them for their time.  Some of the people in the crowd begin to chant Feyd’s name, thanking him for saving their beloved Lady, which catches him by surprise. Your father claps at your address, and Feyd joins him in applause, commending your efforts.

The people are dismissed and the Youran soldiers guide Feyd and the others back into the castle. As the group is safely indoors, you grasp one of Feyd’s hands on your own and press a kiss on his closest cheek and lean in to whisper “Thank you, Feyd.”  

As you pull back, you and your father bow to the Harkonnens before you return to your quarters, still encircled by guards.  Watching you disappear behind a corridor, Feyd notices his heart longing for your company. He thinks of the way you two moved in perfect sync during your fight.  The fiery look in your eyes during the battle was thrilling to behold. His mind lingers on you as he reminisces about the feeling he had of bolts of lightning shooting through his veins when you kissed him.  Just as soon as he's entranced, he’s ripped out of his fantasy by his uncle’s fingers clenched around his shoulder.

“Come,” his uncle orders, and Feyd follows as they return to the guest wing of the fortress.  The walk to the guest wing is eerily silent.  All that can be heard is footsteps and the gentle whirring and occasional clicks that come from his uncle’s medical contraptions.  His uncle beckons him into his own quarters after the guards bid them goodnight.  The baron floats into the room while instructing Feyd to close the door behind him.

This guest suite is an exact replica of the one Feyd is staying in. The walls are covered in painstakingly crafted tapestries and the furniture is made of a red-brown wood with a bold grain that looks like billows of smoke. An entire wall is a floor to ceiling window that leads to a balcony which overlooks the ocean.  The soft reflection of the moonlight from the water’s surface streams through the window, illuminating half of the baron’s face in a stark white light while the other is cast in a sinister shadow. His uncle calls Feyd closer, and he obeys. 

“Well done, Feyd,” is the first thing his uncle says to him in a low voice.  “The Yourans may still be outside, so we must be quiet.” Feyd nods to his uncle in understanding as he notices his uncle’s unbridled grin, the one he only has when he’s plotted something truly heinous.  “The Yourans are weaker than I ever imagined.  I knew they were a society of wisdom, but I never expected them to leave themselves so… vulnerable.” The baron’s eyes are now ablaze with savagery. Saying the words out loud has lit the flames of cruelty that burns in his soul. “The fact that you killed twenty of them in the time between us hearing the attack and arriving in the courtyard single handedly is a true testament to their sheer mediocrity.  I shall reward you when we are back on Giedi Prime.  How about another mistress this time? I will ensure she’s properly broken for you.”

I don’t want your praise. I don’t want your gifts, Old Man, Feyd thinks, resisting the urge to grab ahold of his uncle’s neck, strangle him, and feel his trachea shatter under his thumbs.

“I was originally frustrated at you, Feyd.  I wondered why you simply didn’t allow them to kill her, but you’ve done well, despite your lack of foresight. We will not have to take the planet by force. Now we have a way to win over the people of Youra, and they will soon be ours. Lady Ronen is foolish.  She thinks their principles will keep them safe, but their dedication to their values will be their downfall.”

Feyd conceals his clenched fist from his uncle’s view as he collects himself.  He must not be rash.  Instead, he suppresses his emotions, and he asks his uncle “What are you proposing?” 

“We take her to Giedi Prime, and once the marriage is sealed, I want you to kill her.”  Those words make Feyd’s blood run cold. Kill you?  After everything that’s happened? After the fear of losing you had already struck his heart once today? Feyd will not allow it.  “We shall tell them it was natural.” The Baron continues with a venomous tone. “…and that it was her dying wish for her people to honor our alliance.” The baron grins, bearing his inky, black teeth.  Frightening images of your dead body crumpled on the glossy black floors of Giedi Prime flash in Feyd’s mind with your beautiful eyes blank and unseeing, which makes his head begin to spin. “You saw how they rallied around her tonight. They are so dedicated to her that they will honor her wishes even in death. The planet Youra will be ours, Feyd. We will take the bounty of their work to Arrakis where we will kill Muad'dib, and the House of Harkonnen will emerge victorious.”

With that, the baron shoos his nephew out of the room.  On the other side of the door, Feyd balls his fists and clenches his teeth so tightly it’s a wonder they haven’t cracked under the pressure.  Instead of returning to his quarters, he walks through the corridors of the palace straight to yours, trying to hold his breath steady as the bile within him threatens to pour over.  Outside of your room, there are armed guards keeping watch over the entrance.  One knocks at the door when he requests to see you and slips inside once you permit the guard entrance. 

Moments later, you emerge at the door. You’ve cleaned up since he last saw you and you’re no longer in your cloak and battle gear.  Instead, you wear a light, flowy nightdress that hugs your waist and reflects the moonlight exquisitely. You reach out to Feyd and bring his hands together near your chest.  Feyd’s heart skips and you raise yourself up on your toes to kiss him in earnest.  He sighs into the softness of your lips. Having you so close and being graced by your touch is one of the greatest privileges he has ever received. As you break away, there’s a look of concern on your face.

“Would you like to come inside?” you ask him softly and he nods.  As soon as he enters, you close the door and lock it behind you.  He lets out a frustrated hiss, finally able to express his frustration as he sits down in an armchair chair and rests his elbows on his thighs. He his head in his hands in frustration. “What’s wrong, Feyd?”

“My uncle is plotting.  He wishes for me to murder you after we wed. He thinks you weak and your people impressionable,” Feyd seethes, closing his eyes and running his hands along the back of his neck.  “I couldn’t ever bring myself to do that to you, but I know my uncle.  If I don’t do it, he will have someone who doesn't care for you like I do carry out the deed instead. He plans to take control of your planet and your people when you are gone.”

For the first time in years, Feyd feels like he’s on the verge of tears, something that the baron had him beaten for until his bones shattered when Feyd was a child.  He has only just found you.  You’ve begun to heal his heart and put the light back in his eyes.  You’ve shown him unwarranted kindness and let him bask in your affections.  You’ve given him someone to fight for, and just as soon as he’s found his salvation in you, it’s about to be taken from him.  Bringing your thumb up to his cheek, you wipe the small droplet that threatens to spill over away.

“Do not worry, my love,” you whisper to him, taking the opportunity to gently nuzzle his neck, and he sinks into your embrace.  “Please dry your eyes.”

“We have to get rid of him. We need a plan,” Feyd says with conviction, and you nod. As he looks up at you, his worries seem to fade when he senses your fortitude.  You support his cheek with your delicate touch and stare into his eyes.  Behind your irises he sees a glint of devilishness. 

“I know of a way, Feyd.  We’ll silence Baron Vladimir, and in the end, we will install you as the ruler of Giedi Prime. You will be Feyd-Rautha, Baron of the House of Harkonnen.”

–

The people of Youra come to see you off in droves as you depart for the wedding. Everyone is dressed in their very best as they watch you precess toward the Harkonnen vessel accompanied by your father, the baron, and your bodyguards.  Some parents have brought their children to catch a glimpse of you as you depart, the young Yourans perched on their parents’ shoulders to get a better view of you.  You wave to them, and the children smile excitedly when you acknowledge them. Feyd marvels at your people's continued love and affection for you as he offers his arm to you. The Baron glances over to Feyd as the citizens cheer for you, nearly drooling at the prospect of dominating this society. Feyd looks away from his uncle as you take his arm, his determination rising. He will not permit his uncle’s scheme to go to fruition.

Under Giedi Prime’s black sun, the wedding proceeds as planned by Baron Vladimir.  The entirety of Giedi Prime’s populace gathers to watch the union of Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha and the Lady of House Ronen. You wed each other in front of the crowd for all to see, wearing Harkonnen garb next to the baron and your father. Feyd cannot look away from you.  You are beautiful in every way.  The dress seems to hang delightfully on every curve of your physique. The long sleeves that extend just beyond your wrists conform to the shape of your arms perfectly. The rectangular cutout filled with sheer mesh placed perfectly over your breastbone is something Feyd cannot help but stare at.  The splendor is so befitting of your stature, and all he can think of is him and his Baroness ruling Giedi Prime together one day. 

You and Feyd each receive a necklace of dark stone plates from his uncle, marking your marriage.  Feyd grasps your body firmly as he kisses you, his mind consumed with you and you alone as he cups your waist. You are finally his to have and to hold, and how wonderful that is to him. The crowd chants for Feyd when he raises your intertwined fingers for the crowd to see.  The people exalt him, and the baron smiles from the sidelines as the alliance is sealed. 

During the celebratory banquet, you and Feyd make careful effort to keep you away from the baron, lest he has other plans for you.  The night goes on, the fireworks inky in the air and Harkonnen music playing to the late hours.  As the lights fade and the diplomats go home, you bid your father goodbye, promising you will return to Youra soon. As his ship disappears into the night, Feyd comes to stand next to you. It’s almost time. You’ve been summoned to the baron’s personal chambers. You and Feyd walk in silence to the baron’s room through the empty halls.  Outside the door that separates the two of you and the baron, there are no guards. 

“It’s a trap,” you mouth to Feyd, careful to not make any noise.  He gives you the smallest nod in agreement.  Luring his victims into a false sense of security is something the baron always loved to do.  Once they thought they were safe, the baron would turn their relief into agony and despair, relishing the emotional differential, torturing them until they begged for death after which he would oblige. Luckily, you and Feyd both know better, and you’ve come prepared.

Together, you both press one of your palms on one of the double doors and push them open. The room is inky black inside, only lit by horizontal strips of lighting.  In the center sits the baron in a tub of viscous black sludge. Proceeding slowly, Feyd sees you mark every object in the room, creating a mental log for yourself.  Nobody else is in the room.  It’s just the baron in his tub. 

“Welcome Feyd and Na-Baroness,” the baron says, taking a puff from his pipe as he leans backward in his tub. You both approach him, but are careful to distance yourself from the tub. “I wanted to congratulate you both on your marriage.  Our people seem quite enthralled with you, na-Baroness,” the baron comments before clicking his tongue and taking another huff. “I- We wanted to present you with a gift to welcome you to our House.”

The Baron gestures for Feyd to come closer, and he obeys as the baron extends his arm to gesture at a black box that sits near the edge of his tub. The Baron raps his fingers on the box once as his eyes maliciously dart between it and Feyd. Feyd knows what this box is.  Inside are his poisoned knives.  As Feyd looks at the box, he can hear his uncle’s voice from the night on Youra in his mind: “Kill her!”  

Looking back toward the doorway, two Harkonnen soldiers, armed with the barbs they use to subdue slaves in gladiatorial fights, have silently entered the room with their weapons drawn.  Their stances are wide.  When they step, they shift side to side, using the outside edge of their feet to make their footsteps barely audible. They approach you from behind, but Feyd knows you’ve already sensed them when your eyes narrow and your spine straightens as you moderate your breathing.

“Now!” the baron bellows to the soldiers, who throw their hooks at you, aiming for your shoulders.  With the greatest of ease, you duck downward, allowing the prongs to soar over your head and clatter on the floor at the base of the tub.  You grasp the lines the soldiers are holding in your hands.  Standing back up, you twirl and swing one of your legs up and around the lines attached to the barbs. Using your foot as a hook, you force the lines downward and towards yourself, and the men topple over in their place as the lines are tugged toward you. They yell out in shock.

Feyd sees his uncle’s face contort in horror as he is frozen and at a loss for words. Clearly none of the three were expecting any resistance from you to be successful. You yank the ends of the barbs toward you and wrap your hands around the long rods. Dashing toward the entrance of the room, you make contact with one of them, killing them with a single blow before they have a chance to react.  The other one whimpers in fear, watching his comrade fall before attempting to scramble back to the entrance on his hands and knees.  

“FEYD, DO SOMETHING!” the baron hisses as you strike down the other who only makes it a few feet before your weapon collides with the back of his neck.  The second barbman falls to the ground, motionless. Feyd opens up the case and takes his knives out, holding them steady at his side.  As he approaches you, Feyd’s eyes flicker to the side toward where the baron lays in his vat of ooze, directing you to bring the fight closer to his uncle.  Your gaze intensifies, and you lower your stance, using the sharp edge of each barb to cut the lines away.

“Let’s dance, my dear husband,” you coo at him as you raise your weapons and rush at each other. The shrill sound of metal clashing fills the air.  You both know each other’s moves now.  As one attacks, the other easily parries, neither one of you coming close to inflicting real harm. Feyd feels the tingling of excitement in his soul.  Fighting with you before was exhilarating on Youra, but this is something else. He can finally see your beauty in all its glory.  The way your body contorts like an acrobat as you dodge and counter flawlessly. How your brow furrows when you take on one of his blows with impeccable form is a sight to behold. You are nothing short of a miracle. 

From the tub, the baron bellows, “Kill her, NOW!”  You and Feyd continue, circling around the tub so that you come closer to the baron.  With a signal to Feyd and one swift move, you knock baron’s hand closest to his control panel away, preventing him from calling for help.  The Baron gasps in surprise. You couldn’t have known that’s where the controls are unless you were told. The realization dawns on him too late; he feels the sting of Feyd’s blade on his neck. He looks up at his nephew in horror.  

Feyd drops his other knife and uses his free hand to force his uncle’s mouth open. The Baron chokes and gasps as the nephew he has groomed into a ruthless monster turns on him. The Baron tries to tell Feyd to unhand him as a desperate last effort as he struggles in the tub, but Feyd’s grip on his uncle is unwavering and only gets rougher. Feyd’s mind is ablaze.  This is his revenge for plotting to kill you and for a lifetime of abuse at his hand. 

In the past, Feyd revered his uncle, admired his iron grip on Giedi Prime, and thought that the baron was what he should aspire to be, but Feyd sees the truth now, looking down at his uncle writing in his grasp to no avail.  His uncle is and always has been pathetic.  It takes all the strength Feyd has in himself not to crack his Uncle’s neck right there. Feyd quells his impulsiveness. The plan must proceed as you arranged.

You approach from behind and stick two fingers in the baron’s mouth, stretching his cheek out as far as it will go.  The baron whimpers as he spies something stirring under your sleeves.  It circles down your arms and out from under the black fabric.  It’s a black centipede with thick, glossy armor.  It must be half the length of your arm, and the baron’s eyes quiver as it crawls onto the back of your hand and into his gaping maw. He chokes as the legs scuttle and scratch at his tongue.  The creature forces itself down his esophagus. The baron feels the creature thrash, and he can almost hear the chitin armor clicking against itself from within him as he chokes on it.

“Don’t move,” you tell the baron with a dark smile.  The baron’s fear is thick and palatable in the air.  “She won’t like it if her host moves too much.” You remove your fingers from his mouth and recoil at his saliva. “What shall I have her do first?  Maybe I’ll have her paralyze your vocal chords so you don’t go blabbing to anyone?” Your victim looks at you in desperation, but you tisk at him before letting out a rhythmic series of clicks through your teeth. The Baron feels the head of the creature wriggle inside of him back up into his throat.  The Baron coughs.  Gasping out in pain, he feels a searing pinch. Then the inside of his throat begins to burn. The centipede has clenched its jagged pincers around the inside of his throat. “Isn’t she so well trained, Baron?”

You lean down to the baron and hold his head in your hands so that you’re looking directly into his eyes, which are bloodshot and tearful.  “You pitiful man, you thought you could kill me?” you whisper to him as he tries to call for help, but no comprehensible sound comes out. “Let me tell you a secret: I am more than the damsel in distress you think I am. I fought alongside Feyd that night.  I even killed half of them. You shouldn’t have underestimated me or my people.  We may be caretakers, but once those we love are threatened, we will not rest until we have our revenge.  Now, you shall die a slow, painful, unceremonious death alone in a hot vat of black slime for your arrogance.”

You and Feyd release the baron from your grip. Allowing his body to sink against the edge of the tub.  The baron sputters, as he begins to convulse.  The venom is beginning to take hold.  Soon it will affect his whole nervous system and shut down his body entirely.  You and Feyd leave him there to rot as you deal with the bodies of the barbmen.  In the early morning before anyone is awake, you collect the centipede from the baron in his tub. His body is twitching ever so slightly, but there is no hope for him.  You hide the creature in your dress again, whispering small praises for a job well done and leave the room. 

By midday, the Harkonnen attendants are growing concerned that they have not heard from the baron, a servant opens up the doors to the baron’s chambers, finding him lifeless in his tub with empty eyes staring up at the ceiling with a single tear stain on his cheek.  The top doctors on Giedi Prime are brought in to perform an autopsy. They say he died of natural causes, unable to identify any trace of the centipede's presence.

The news spreads quickly about the baron’s passing, and you and Feyd put on a brave face for House Harkonnen.  The funeral procession is quickly organized. The people of Giedi Prime hang their heads, mourning the sudden loss of their dear leader as you and Feyd precess through the city alongside the coffin to put the baron in his final resting place. Feyd makes a speech, praising his uncle for his leadership, secretly relishing his death.

You put up large flags with the baron’s face on it throughout the land, shrouding the architecture in even more dark fabrics, hang a portrait of him next to the other past Harkonnen leaders in the hallway, and order a monument to be built in his honor. Nobody suspects a thing.

A month after the death of Vladimir Harkonnen, you and Feyd stand in front of the citizens of Giedi Prime in your best clothes again as one of the Harkonnen advisors announce your new titles: Baron and Baroness Harkonnen. The crowd chants for the both of you with zeal, grateful to have leaders again.  

The next morning, Feyd smiles as he opens his eyes and sees you sleeping peacefully, your head resting on his chest as you unconsciously run your fingers over his muscles.  He hopes you’re dreaming of him because you were most certainly the subject of all of his fantasies last night.  He tilts his head down, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head.  He knows his next job is dealing with the Fremen attacks on Arrakis now that he is Baron Harkonnen.  Instead of concerning himself with that, he chooses to close his eyes again and pulls you in closer. That job can wait. For now, all his thoughts are consumed by you as they should be. 

--

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Part III OUT NOW!

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