#dune x reader

“As I’ve already said, the Atreides are slow to grow.” Your mother’s tone didn’t hold even a semblance of a bite to it, not like you expected. She was usually fiercely protective of you and your brother. 

Your finger twitched, causing the woman to stifle whatever disapproving comment she was about to make. Being caught eavesdropping like this certainly wasn’t ideal, but you found it impossible not to be curious. 

“She really is just like her brother,” More like he was more like you. You’d always been the rowdy one of the two. Paul must have been listening in as well, and you imagined that he was more insulted at the comments of his lack of height and muscle than you were. “The little rascals.” 

There was a beat of silence before the woman began to crone again. This time you opened your eyes just a sliver, staring into the dark abyss of your room so that you could make out the shapes of your mother and the stranger. 

“Rest now. Both you and your brother need to be prepared to meet my Gom Jabbar.” The reason couldn’t be pinpointed, but there was something about her tone that filled you with dread.

Your mother woke you up the next morning, bright and early. 

Not even the breathing exercises that your mother had taught you had been able to calm you down last night. The darkness had swallowed you whole, which resulted in a dreamless sleep that left you feeling just as unrested as you had felt the night before. Your mother noticed your hesitations, the skirts of her dress dragging against the stone floor as she moved in the direction of your closet. The dress that she picked out for you was one of your more official garments, the red hawk of the Atreides crest proudly sewn onto the right breast. 

“Did you sleep well?” She questioned as she laid the dress neatly onto the edge of the bed, urging you to stand once her hands were free. 

You blinked at her, nervously brushing your hands along the soft cotton of your nightdress. Your voice felt stuck in your throat, but you still managed to lie. 

“Yes, of course.” Your tone was flat, and for once she didn’t question you on the reasoning. She knew exactly what had you feeling so uncomfortable in your own home. 

Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. Gom Jabbar. 

What exactly did the old woman want from your family? Lady Jessica was a Bene Gesserit, which could only mean that this woman was a higher up, sent to pay you and your brother a visit. You knew nothing about any “coming of age” rituals. 

Paul barged into the room, dressed in his finer clothes as well. He leaned against the wall of your room, lips pursed as if he was deep in thought. You tilted your head to the side, leveling him a worried glance. He simply shook his head, and you knew at once that he wasn’t trying to dismiss your worries. 

‘Not here. Later.’ His expression told you, and for once you obeyed. 

“The reverend mother is waiting on the both of you. Paul, get out of your sister’s room so she can get ready.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for whining or disobedience. 

He groaned, pushing himself off of the wall so that he could head back out and into the hall. You shrugged out of your dress quickly at the hurried insistence of your mother, allowing her to do up the clasps of the dress for you. 

“Who is she?” You asked simply, brushing your hair to the side so that she could get a better grasp of the dress. 

“She was my teacher at the Bene Gesserit school and now she is the Emperor’s Truthsayer.” Your mother sighed out your name, turning you quickly so that you were facing her. “You need to do exactly as she says. There is no room to be prideful today, do you understand?” Her eyes were pleading, and you knew that she had your best interests in mind. 

You and your mother walked wordlessly out into the hall, catching up with your brother who was busy running his fingers along the uneven stone walls. You flashed a quick look at your mother before jogging to catch up with Paul, taking the hem of his sleeve into your hand. 

“What do you know?” You whispered, turning your head so that you could look at your mother. Much to your surprise she seemed to be in no hurry to separate the two of you. 

“I’ve had dreams about her before,” He whispered, and you had to pick up your pace to keep up with his strides. “And mother told me this morning that I have to tell her about my visions.” 

Your mouth went a bit dry at the realization that this woman truly was here just for you and your brother. What is the Gom Jabbar and what did it entail? There was no telling. 

“She’s in my morning room, you two.” She called out after you. 

Jessica caught up, leveling the both of you a disapproving motherly look that had the two of you slowing your strides to match hers. She seemed a bit hesitant, eyes flickering between you and your brother and the closed door. 

The “reverend mother” sat in one of the tapestried chairs, her arms perched on either side of the armrests as she watched the three of you come in. The view behind her was beautiful, the sprawling, green farmlands of the Atreides family holding on full display through the large windows behind her. You glanced at your brother, eyes widening when you realized that he was already looking at you. He bowed in her direction and you followed his lead. 

“They are a cautious bundle, aren’t they?” The witch-like woman croaked, looking between the two of you. 

“As they have been taught, your reverence.” 

In this room, here in front of this woman, Jessica was no longer the Duke’s concubine nor your mother. She was reduced to that of a pupil in the face of her teacher. You kept yourself from fidgeting, clasping your hands in front of you. You fought the urge to reach out and grab your brother’s hand, as the two of you so often did when faced with anxiety as children. Fear hadn’t regressed you to that of a blubbering child in years. 

Your mother also seemed to fear the woman before her. There was something in her tone that led you to believe that whatever she was here for, it surely wasn’t a pleasantry. Your brother was tense at your mother’s other side, jaw tense as he stared the reverend mother down. 

“Teaching is one thing, but there are some things that cannot simply be taught,” Paul’s eyebrows furrowed as she spoke, and as if she was dismissing a servant of the castle, she waved your mother off with a flick of her wrist. “You and your daughter leave us. It will be her turn soon.” 

For the first time that morning your mother hesitated, eyes softened as she looked upon her son.

“Your reverence, I-” She began, but was cut off before she could finish whatever it is she was going to say. Surely it was meant to be an objection. 

“Jessica, you know that this must be done.” Her voice held a tone of finality. There was no room for your mother to try and wiggle the both of you two out of this trap.

“Yes. . . of course.” Your mother straightened, turning towards both of you. 

“This test. . . It’s very important to me, you two.” She spoke in a hushed voice, eyes still fearful. 

“Test?” The two of you questioned at the same time, looking at one another in concern. You were confused, even more so than you were before. 

“Remember that you’re the duke’s son.” And with that your mother was grabbing your arm, pulling you in the direction of the door. 

“I suppose that it is my turn?” Your voice shook with anger as you practically tore the door off of its hinges, anxious to take your brother’s place. His cries and whimpers did not go unheard, even with the thick wood separating the two of you. 

Looking at him now, his right arm still shaking from the pain, was like being slapped across the face. 

“Right you are, girl. Jessica, please escort your son out of the room.” There was a silvery glint in her bright eyes- a challenge. She could sense it in you. 

Your mother didn’t interrupt this time, and without any words exchanged the door closed. Your brother was too shaken up by whatever had taken place in that room to fully comprehend that the same thing was going to happen to you. He tossed a terrified glance over his shoulder at you just before the heavy doors closed. The sound of it echoed around the room, pulsing in your chest as you tried to steady the adrenaline pumping through your veins. 

“Your future. . . do you know what is expected of you?” 

You eyed the black box that sat next to her as you began closing the distance between the two of you. The question she had asked. . . it was a touchy subject with you. Of course you knew. A day didn’t go by that you weren’t mortified by the prospect of your future. You only had three short years to live and enjoy before you would be forced to abandon your family to join hands with another one. 

“Of course I do. It is my duty to marry.” Your voice had a bite to it, your eyes unwavering as you stared her veiled face down. 

“It is your duty to marry a Harkonnen. It is an honor to be the only reason that these two great Houses are allies. Your heirs will be powerful beyond comprehension.” The way she spoke. . . she truly believed the shit she was spouting. 

It was impossible to consider marrying Feyd an honor. It was an ever-present looming threat. 

“Put your right hand in the box.” She commanded, nodding her head in it’s direction. 

It seemed harmless enough, nothing more than a metal box. You bent your head ever-so-slightly, trying to have a look inside. It appeared to be a pitch black, endless void. No beginning or end in sight. 

You did as you were told, biting the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from muttering anything too disrespectful under your breath. If Paul’s screams were anything to go off of then this was going to be painful. Still, you were shocked by how cold the box was. You wiggled your fingers a few times, feeling the metal encasing them. Slowly a tingling sensation began, almost as if they were falling asleep. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

The tingling sensation somehow melded into. . . heat. No, not heat. Burning. It felt as though you had your hand held up to a bright flame. You flinched, but froze when you finally noticed that the reverend mother was holding something against your neck. Your eyes flickered the best that they could to her hand, not wanting to turn your head. 

“What I hold at your neck is the Gom Jabbar. The tip of the needle is dipped in poison. Remove your hand from the box and I will plunge it into your neck.” 

The palm of your free hand began to sweat, the gravity of the situation finally landing on your shoulders. You would be forced to endure the pain and there was nothing that anyone outside of the doors could do. No guards had come to protect your brother when it was his turn, and no matter how emotional your mother had gotten whilst hearing his screams she still hadn’t rushed in after him. You could truly die here in this room. 

“Why are you doing this?” You urged, wincing again as the burning continued to worsen. 

Now it felt as though you were almost touching a flame, fingers dancing dangerously close. It wasn’t just uncomfortable now but painful.  “To determine if you’re human. Now be silent.”

Meant for greatness, yet stifled before her prime. 

It was impossible for your clipped wings to take flight. The Bene Gesserit had instilled in you your purpose from a very young age, letting it be known that you were little more than cattle to be sold off to breed. The whole arrangement was dehumanizing, but this was the way of galactic high society. Every House had been developed by the close, watchful eye of the Bene Gesserit. Your mere existence was a result of a centuries long breeding program, so how could you ever expect for your own life to be any different? 

Every child, especially in their naive youth, dreams of greatness. There was a point in time where you had hoped to mean something. There were differences to be made, rules to be broken, wars to be raged- but you would never be at the helm of any of it. But Paul. . . Paul was different. 

“You know something that I don’t.” You weren’t asking Paul, rather telling him what you already knew. 

Where you were used to your brother pulling no punches, he had been overly cautious with his treatment of you during training today. For a second he just stared ahead blankly at the wall, and you wondered whether he would try to lie. The older you’ve gotten, the stranger other people’s treatment of you has become. Women were little more than something to be owned. It was a hard lesson to learn and was one you were still grappling with. 

Your femininity were the chains that bound you. And what of your ambition? It was currently acting as the flames licking at your boot heels. Soon you feared that it would fully engulf you; become your undoing. 

“Tell me.” Your lovely features crumpled, and as childish as it was you found yourself giving his arm a slap. 

He jumped at the sudden contact, eyes widening as he turned to face you after what felt like an eternity of prolonged silence between the two of you. The hard flooring felt cool beneath your legs as you stretched them out beneath you, and for a second you found it hard to keep yourself up in a sitting position. The world felt unsteady beneath you, both literally and figuratively. 

Paul didn’t have to say anything at all. You looked, you saw, you felt, you understood. Your shared connection had nothing to do with your genes, rather it had to do with your likeness. Two bodies, two minds, but one soul. Your twin’s features crumpled, mirroring that of your own as he pushed a few strands of dark hair away from his face. 

“So there is nothing I can do? My fate is sealed.” Your lips felt numb as you spoke. 

Your brother’s visions were more frequent than they had ever been before. “Horrors”, he’d described them.

“If there was something I could do. . .” He started, turning quickly to face you, tucking one leg beneath himself. “My hands are tied. Mother and father’s hands are as well.” 

Hiding you away or knowingly allowing you to escape your duties would be seen as an act of treason. You’d be putting your parents and their status in danger, and no matter how desperate you were to get out of any sort of marriage pact, it was far too late. Since the very moment you were conceived, this was what you were meant for. 

“When will the orders come down, you think?” You pulled your legs up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them tightly. 

You wished that you could stay like this forever, protected from the rest of the world. If only you hadn’t been born as twins at all. You wanted so badly to be like Paul. 

But the galaxy didn’t work like that. You were not fortunate enough to get what you wanted. 

“Soon.” 

You felt comforted by the hand that he placed on your shoulder, and even more so when he kept it there until you felt as though you were able to stand up. 

You were to marry into House Harkonnen. That was your purpose; to unite the feuding houses and birth powerful offspring. You had met Feyd once before, but only for a fleeting moment. It hadn’t been awkward- no, back then the two of you hadn’t cared enough to pay any mind to the looming threat that was your betrothal. You’d been too young back then to fully grasp the severity of the situation. 

You remembered being shocked by his size. He towered over Paul, appearing to be years older than he really was. His hair had been dark back then, thick and slightly curly. 

He had only just been taken under his uncle’s wing at the time. The environment of Giedi Prime had yet to fully sink into the young boy. The Harkonnen’s looks had always been startling to you, no matter how many times you’d been exposed to it. They were dark creatures, brooding, hairless with skin as pale as milk- not to mention violent. 

The desperate way that Paul had clung to you was not lost on you. You let him squeeze you as tightly as he needed, your arms locking around his back. This meeting would change everything. In a matter of moments your life as you knew it would be taking a drastic turn, and not for the better. 

You’d made that very same trek to the parlor room a million times. This was your ancestral home- had been in your family longer than you thought was conceivable, and yet this felt new to you. Wrong. The shadows from the windows were casting strange lights on the wall beside you, and your footsteps sounded muffled in your ears as your pounding heart nearly deafened you. Your father’s hand brushed against your palm a few times, his attempt at showing you physical comfort without causing any sort of scene. You knew that this was Feyd-Rautha’s right. 

You were Feyd-Rautha’s right. That simple fact alone was enough to send you reeling, that morning's breakfast churning in your stomach. 

“It will be fine.” Your mother’s fingers shaped the words at her side, a comforting and silent presence. 

Your parents had always protected you. They had taught you well in all aspects of life. She was right. You had to trust yourself just as much as you trusted them. This will be fine. You will survive. 

But god, you wanted to live. 

Your worst fear was being locked up like a caged animal, only taken out to be played with or paraded around. You didn’t want to be somebody's little wife; you were no homemaker or bed warmer. 

‘I am better than this.’ You thought to yourself, your hands balling into fists at your sides. 

As the double doors began creeping open, you felt the sudden urge to run the opposite direction, your parents be damned. The feud between House Atreides and House Harkonnen would surely become deadly if you were to turn your back on the promise now, and that was the only thing that steeled your feet. You stood, back straight and hands clasped tightly at your front. 

You looked to be a pillar of strength, but oh- you were so close to crumbling. Your father took a step past the threshold, eyes hard as he bowed his head respectfully in the Baron’s direction. There was still time to turn around. The door was right there, and you were sure that you could commandeer a ship. You’d piloted a few times before in your life, and while you weren’t the best, you were certain you could get yourself the hell off of Caladan. You shuffled your feet, eyes wide as you looked up and caught your mother’s gaze. Her lips were parted, and you could tell that she was trying to decipher your expression. 

“What are you doing?” Her hand moved quickly at her side, the flowy gauze-like material of her skirts hiding her frantic movements from the visitor’s view. 

Nothing. You were doing nothing. There were no options yet. If you fled then the insubordination would fall back on your parents. If you downright refused then the outcome would be the same. There was nothing you could do but keep your mouth shut and try not to show the Harkonnen even a semblance of vulnerability. 

Disdain rolled off of you in waves as you breezed into the parlor, eyes locked on the side of your father’s face as he conversed with the baron. Tensions were high, even now. No pleasantries were being exchanged, that you were sure of. The Harkonnen’s stark black attire was a startling contrast to their pale skin. There, in the middle of two other men, whom you were sure were present for reasons of protection, was Feyd. 

He looked the same as the rest of them. Hairless, blue eyes dripping with something that could only be described as malice. Gone was the curly haired child that you remembered. In his place stood someone unrecognizable to you. You wanted to question what the Baron had done to Feyd, but you already knew. Perfection was expected on Geidi Prime. 

He had shaped Feyd into the very likeness of perfection. The once dark haired boy was now a walking, talking machine; not even a dead leaf echo of the boy you met all those years ago. 

You tried to map out every single one of his microexpressions, searching desperately for any sign that he might disapprove of the predicament the both of you had found yourselves in. He tilted his head to the side, observing you with a horrifying level of concentration. The Baron began to speak, saying something that you didn’t care enough to listen to. You were too distracted by the terrifying man before you. 

“She will come back home to Geidi Prime with us. No objections, correct?” 

You were marrying him out of an obligation, this he was already privy to. He had seen the reluctance written plain across your face as you’d entered the room. You’d wanted to run. Away from him, away from your responsibilities- and he could not blame you for it. His understanding stopped there though, simply because this proposal wasn’t going against his own wishes. 

“The wedding isn’t taking place for another week.” The Duke didn’t seem to like the idea of his unwed daughter leaving his side. 

Feyd fought back a smile, having known that the Baron’s sudden request would have this effect on the Atreides family. He watched you squirm like a bug under a magnifying glass, your hand moving at your hip. For a second he thought that you might be tugging at the seam of your dress, writing it off as nothing but a nervous tick- but then he saw the way your mother’s eyes followed those movements. 

The two of you were communicating. 

“That may be so, however I think that it is only right that your daughter,” Baron Vladimir motioned in your direction. “Becomes better acquainted with Feyd. You don’t agree?” 

His uncle decided that it was best to test the boundaries of this alliance. He was pushing the Duke, seeing how far he could get. Leto’s lips twitched, his eyes flickering thoughtfully towards you. Feyd was finding it hard to pay attention to anyone else other than you in the room. He’d spent years imagining what you would look like as an adult- dreamt about it. He’d eagerly been awaiting this moment, counting the days that he could finally be reunited with you. 

It wasn’t just because he had been promised powerful heirs. It was the thought that someone was fated to marry him. Since before he was even conceived, you had always been promised to him. That idea had been put into his head since childhood. You were the constant topic in his mind, a person that was unavoidably meant to be in his life for the rest of his days. 

In a strange way he had loved you since he was but a child. 

Seeing you for that first time had been better than he had anticipated. You were a beautiful little girl, but now? The child that he had met all those years ago did not hold a candle to the grace and brilliance of the woman that stood before him. Nobody else could ever compare. You didn’t have to fall for him right now, he was content with that. Hell, you didn’t even have to tolerate him.  He would find pleasure in wearing you down. He was going to make you love him.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. 

The adrenaline had run its way out of your system, leaving you cold and alone on a planet that was so incredibly alien to you, you weren’t sure how you’d ever be expected to adjust. Even the oxygen felt different in your lungs- the sweet, acrid smell of chemicals tinging the air around you. It was nothing like your home on Caladan. Your home was a stone castle, but this? This was a cold, black fortress. 

You weren’t sure if it was meant to keep people out. . . or in. 

You thought back to that fateful day with the reverend mother. 

“You’ve heard of animals chewing off a leg to escape a trap? There’s an animal kind of trick. A human would remain in the trap, endure the pain, feigning death that he might kill the trapper and remove a threat to his kind.” 

You couldn’t chew your leg off to be free of this. No, you had to lay in wait. Only then could you strike if the situation called for it. 

“Striking” could wait until tomorrow though. For now you wanted to rid yourself of the anxiety. Sleep was the only cure you could think of. 

“Is the room to your liking?” That husky voice of his was already grating on your nerves. 

Feyd had only attempted to speak to you a few times and already you were sick and tired of his presence. He was a constant reminder that you would never know what it was like to be free. Then again, was anybody in the galaxy truly free? Feyd sure seemed to be carefree in his current position. 

His tone felt off, like he was toying with you. 

“I would be far more pleased about my new living quarters if you were to leave.” You said simply, pulling the slate gray blanket up and over your chin. 

You weren’t sure if it was due to his ill-breeding, but he didn’t seem to care that you were in nothing but your night dress. He walked into the room in long-legged strikes, letting the door shut behind him. Never before had the two of you been alone together, not since you were children at least. If you were back in your family home you would feel safer during a moment like this. 

You were in his territory now, meaning he had full reign over everything. Your father and family name couldn’t protect you on Geidi Prime. 

“You’re in quite the rush to be rid of me,” He didn’t falter for even a second as he moved to sit down on the edge of the bed, leaning back against the plush mattress with a small sigh. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you didn’t like me.” He didn’t seem upset at the notion of you disliking him. In fact, there was a glint in his eyes. That same sort of silvery glint you’d seen in the reverend mother’s eyes all those years ago: a challenge. 

This was nothing but a challenge to him. You were a conquest, and you detested that. Your stomach soured, your face becoming pinched as you glared at him. This was all too much too fast. You were in the comfort of your own home not even four hours ago, and now you were expected to make small talk with the source of your life-long discontent.  

“And what of your concubines? Could you not pester them tonight and give me a moment's peace?” 

“I dismissed them from their duties, permanently, weeks ago.” He said simply, his fingers running along the cotton of the comforter. 

“What?” You’d never heard of such a thing. 

“Spending time with them would be a waste.” His blue eyes flickered up to meet your eyes. “Acquiring concubines had just been a show of status.” 

It took you a few moments to process what he was saying, the burning hatred you had felt just moments ago flickering out into a dull flame. 

“Why would spending time with them be a waste? Am I expected to spend that much time with you?” A horror, truly. You had hoped that you’d be able to get away with spending a night or two a week with him, if only to achieve the Bene Gesserit’s goal of siring an heir. 

“A waste of time. A waste of seed,” He looked at you pointedly, his lip pulling up into a smile that revealed more of his black teeth. “And both of those things are important to me.” 

Your stomach hollowed out as you were once again reminded of what was expected of you. You had a week to prepare mentally for your wedding night, which you weren’t sure was enough. 

“And what happened to the concubines? Are they still being housed here?” 

“Why? Are you jealous?” He was smiling even wider than he was before. 

A shiver ran through you as you noticed how predatory his body language was- you felt like prey under his haughty gaze. It was hard to believe that Feyd had been administered the Gom Jabbar test and passed. 

This man was no human. He was an animal, that you were certain. 

“Wickedly.” Your tone was flat and noncommittal. Even now, you never saw Feyd as a potential lover. 

The man that was your so-called “destiny” was also your jailer. 

“Well then you’ll be happy to know that they no longer live here. . . or anywhere, for that matter.” He sat up, rolling his shoulders back to stretch his broad muscles.

The blood drained from your face as you stared up at him from your spot on the bed. He must have felt the weight of your gaze and turned his head, his eyes alight with. . . pleasure. Violence was as ingrained in him as breathing was. It was his life. Standing before you was the prince of death- pale, striking and terrifying. 

Animal, indeed. 

I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain. 

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The first time you met eyes with your future husband, there was a silent understanding that passed between you two. He was a young boy, barely older than you and yet he looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Perhaps there could be a connection between you two, despite your afflictions.

Your father called it dreaming, ignoring whatever technical explanation your mother held. There were things you saw that no sane man could explain and yet they were always true. They came to you in the silent moments of the day, when you read or sketched. You had loved it growing up, seeing glimpses of things yet to come but as you grew, they only ever turned darker.

The diplomatic visit to Geidi Prime was short and yet long enough for you to spend a few hours alone with Feyd. There was an itching under your skin from being on the planet, a discomfort that lingered as you pushed down any dreams that threatened to reveal themselves.

You sat across from Feyd, your hands twisting in your lap.

“What do you like to do?” His voice was soft, always soft when he was with you but the sterness returned the moment someone else entered the room.

You wondered if someone had shared your condition with him. “I read. I draw.” Around him, you didn't feel the necessity to boast of your suitable talents your parents had raised you on. The itching had ceased, even if it was just for a moment. “You?”

“I fight- I'm good at fighting.” He corrected himself. For a moment it seemed like he was done talking, but then he met your gaze and continued. “I don't have much to time to do things I like.”

“Perhaps when we are wed, you will have time to explore things you enjoy.” You meant nothing by it, only that you hoped your husband could find a hobby not controlled or pushed onto him by his Uncle.

Feyd smiled in response and you got the distinct feeling that everything would be alright if you married him. But you could not marry him without guilt unless you told him yourself what you were.

“I dream.” You say, unsure of how to tell him.

Feyd was slightly amused, “You dream? I’m sure many do.”

“No.” You quickly reply. “I see things, visions almost. They are never truly clear, only glimpses of the future.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t want you to marry me if you didn’t know. I only hope you understand and do not judge me for something beyond my control.”

Feyd’s expression softened as he took stock of the panicked breaking out of your being. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

The hopefulness in your eyes glistened as you stood, offering Feyd a small bow before leaving the room and returning to your mother and father.

When your day of union arrived, it was a rather happy occasion. Your family smiled as you stayed by Feyd’s side, your hand twisted with his. There was a soft and genuine look of almost-love everytime he looked at you. All that look needed was time to evolve into true love that would pull him under without hesitation. Feyd would let himself be taken by everything you are and he would even beg for it. Your mother and father could see the affection you already shared and knew nothing would come between you.

The Baron, on the other hand, had indifference covering his face all day. This was not a joyous occasion, but a simple ceremony that had to be done in order to end the conflict he wanted to continue. However, this union would bring him more power than war would, and he would just have to accept that.

Feyd reached for two glasses and passed one to you, raising his in a toast. “To the rest of our lives?”

“To the rest of our lives.” You agreed, clinking your glass with his and taking a drink.

Once you had placed your glass back down, Feyd leant forward to capture your lips, letting his heart float like only you could make him. Your marriage was nothing more than picturesque. There was finally peace felt throughout the universe and yet there were some who were still not happy.

The Emperor, despite suggesting the match to weaken the houses and cause friction, watched as they came together in love and only grew stronger. The Atreides were a threat to his reign long before, but with the Harkonnens now as allies, there was nothing that could stop them if they desired his throne.

The final straw came when news of an heir flowed throughout the Imperium. The Atreides and Harkonnens would soon have an heir that would bind them with blood, for eternity.

Your husband had been even more protective of you since the beginning of your pregnancy, barely wanting to leave you alone. The dreams had shown you your daughter, a beautiful girl that was the mix of both you and Feyd. But there was one persistent dream that shook you to your core.

“Feyd?”

“Yes my love?” The nickname had never stopped, ever since the wedding.

“I'm afriad.”

Feyd's face flashed with confusion for a moment as his eyes darted around the room. “What are you afraid of my love? Our families are united, no one would dare stand against Harkonnens and Atreides united. The babe is well, she is growing stronger by the day.”

“There are snakes crawling through the city.” Your voice is a whisper, trembling with every word. You weren’t really aware of what your words meant, only repeating what your mind brought forward.

Feyd smiled at his wife’s words. “There are no snakes on Geidi Prime, my love. They cannot survive here.” He takes a seat next to you, pulling you closer to him as if to protect you.

“They will worm their way to our palace.”

“Then I will double our guard and order lockdown at the slightest threat.” He said it with such conviction that you were almost convinced.

“But-“

“What have I said?” Feyd asked you. “I would never let anything hurt you or our children. There is nothing that can get into our palace unless I will it.”

You let the dream sit in the back of your mind, pushing it away from thought but not forgetting. And it did you well not to forget when you couldn’t sleep one night and a echoing crash startled you. No one else awoke and you took the risk to glance outside your room, where your guards stood to attention.

“Is everything alright Na-Baroness?”

You forced a smile. “All is fine. Just… stay alert.” With nothing else to say, you turn and return to your bed.

Feyd was not disturbed but you found yourself reaching under his pillow to touch the knife he always kept there. It was a reassuring reminder that if your dream came true tonight, there was something Feyd could do. You lay, the blank ceiling taunting you and your ears hearing every footstep and breath people made.

It was only as you had begun drifting back to sleep that a muffled shout came from the hallway and your heart stuttered. You reached over, shaking Feyd awake as he quickly looked around before settling his eyes on your own frantic ones.

“What’s going on?”

Your breath trembled once more. “The snakes are here.”

At your words, Feyd reached for the knife and practically jumped out of bed, directing you to the corner of the room furthest from the door, furthest from harm. The thump of a body was heard and Feyd tightened his grip, activating his shield.

Two men, Imperial soldiers burst through the door and you caught sight of the bodies of two others as well as your guards. Terror gripped you, a hatred of blood instilled in you since you were a young girl. Your hand flew to your mouth as you shrunk into the corner even more, wishing the floor would swallow you up.

Feyd leapt forward, his body practised in fighting people at a moments notice. His knife carved flesh, splattering blood over the room. A small scream escaped your lips as the bodies crashed to the floor and your husband stood in the centre of your room, blood dripping from the knife still in his hand.

He turned to face you, throwing the knife across the room and rushing towards you. You practically threw yourself into his arms and he squeezed you close to his chest and rested his head on yours.

“You’re okay.” He said, letting you feel his steady heartbeat against your rapid one. “The snakes are gone.”

“The snakes-?”

“They’re gone. We’re okay.” He pulled away just enough to take your hand and pull it down to your stomach. “She’s okay, you’re okay. We are all okay. No one can hurt you.”

You let your panic settle and relax into his arms. Everyone’s alive. You can manage whatever comes next, you can let the snakes try but they will never be able to bite you.

And sure, not every dream he had would come to fruition the way he had once thought it—Jamis was one example of that. The duel and the warrior's death was proof enough for Paul to know that his dreams only showed him possibilities of the future. Different strands he had to meticulously untangle in order to find the right one, the right string of events to cling onto so that everything would fall into place in the best way possible.

Not all of his dreams happened in real life the way they did in his mind, but this one...he had to make sure that he gave fate no choice but to bend to his will.

You had nearly caught him off guard.

When he had stepped forward to challenge the Emperor, a flash of Arrakis sun had reflected off of a silver link in Princess Irulan's headdress. With a warrior's instinct, his hardened gaze had flitted over to the source, landing on the extravagantly elegant princess who very pointedly avoided his gaze out of fear.

In his dreams, he had seen her. He had seen a future where he led the empire into prosperity with her by his side. There was a golden path—a very narrow one leading to a brighter future—and marrying Princess Irulan was one of the only ways to secure that future for himself and his people. Paul had accepted that as one of his many responsibilities.

But when his gaze had very briefly landed on you, it was like he had seen a mirage. Like the merciless sun had played a trick on him and shown him an oasis of impossibility. He blinked his azure eyes back into focus and realised you weren't just a trick of the light—weren't just his mind trying to pull one over on him in one of the most important moments of his family's entire legacy.

You were real.

Standing amongst the bleak Harkonnen, you were a vivid splash of colour. You were a beacon of light amidst their darkness.

He had assumed you would be Fremen. In his dreams, when you softly smiled up at him, you had the eyes of Ibad. Blue like Chani and Stilgar, but so much more vibrant. And beautiful—so beautiful. Beautiful enough to stop his heart and start it all over again. You would always looks at him like he truly was a hero predestined to save the universe. You would always smile at him with his hand clasped tightly in yours. You would always promise to stand beside him through both peace and violence.

"Mahdi, just as this destiny has always been yours, as have I."

The you in his dreams was much more different than the you that stood a few paces away from him in this moment.

Your hair was still the colour of the salt flats in the southern regions of Arrakis—unusually stark white. Instead of the bright halo he knew you to have, your hair was braided down and tied back with a black band to keep it away from your perfect face. Your sense of freedom had been lost among the brutality of Giedi Prime—oppressed for the sake of your own safety, Paul assumed.

The edges of your features were sharper than he had dreamed—not gaunt, but sculpted—and he briefly wondered whether you were an unfortunate Fremen married off to a Harkonnen savage. That would explain your cobalt irises contrasting against your black robes. Despite everything, your skin still glowed bright with life against the raven material. It was almost like there were gemstones embedded within the pores of your rich brown skin with the way the sun glittered across it.

You were a dream come to life.

Reluctantly, he settled his gaze back onto Emperor Shaddam.

"You have to answer for my father."

Almost immediately, the Emperor shot back, his whisper as sharp as a dagger. "Do you know why I killed him?" He didn't give Paul a chance to retort, taking a few steps towards the young messiah. "Because he was a man who believed in the rules of the heart. But the heart is not meant to rule."

Paul could hear his own heart thumping in his ears. His teeth grinded harshly against each other as he struggled to not unsheath his blade and plunge it through the emperor's throat.

"In other words..." Shaddam scowled slightly. "Your father was a weak man."

Silence filled the air. The last living Atreides glared down at the traitorous Emperor for a long, quiet moment. For just a second, he looked past Shaddam and saw you again.

You were watching with bated breath just like everyone else, but the pinch in between your brows indicated a much deeper concern. Paul wished he could see into your mind and page through all of your worries, all of your memories, all of your history. But he couldn't become distracted now.

He glanced back at the coward in front of him. "Stand. Or choose your champion."

When Feyd-Rautha took a fearless step forward, Paul realised something that made his blood boil just a bit more than it already had been.

The way you parted your lips to speak up, but pursed them to stop yourself. The way your hand reached out to Feyd slightly, but curled into a fist at your side when he stepped just too far out of reach. The way your cerulean eyes stayed fixed on the Harkonnen na-Baron with a sort of silent despair told Paul everything he needed to know.

"I'm here, Atreides." The Harkonnen heir stared dead into his eyes, his lip very slightly curled at the corner. "I need a blade."

"Accept mine." And once again, the Emperor formed an alliance with a Harkonnen to take down the House of Atreides.

As he prepared for the duel, Paul kept glancing in your direction almost against his own will. He watched with a clench in his jaw while you pulled at Feyd's sleeve and admonished him in a hiss of whispers.

The heir apparent only chuckled in typically smug fashion. He raised a hand to brush your cheek and you turned your face away to reject the action. Then he carelessly clutched your jaw in one hand, fingers squeezing so hard you winced in his grasp, and Paul felt his stomach turn multiple times over. Feyd loomed over you, pressing his forehead against yours, and whispered something that hardened the concern within your eyes. Your hands—Paul remembered them to be soft and gentle—furiously pried Feyd's fingers off of your scowling face. You continued to glare at him even as he accepted the emperor's blade. You burned a hole through the back of his head even as he met Paul in the middle of the makeshift battlefield.

Paul smiled to himself at the contempt in your expression. It was a sick feeling really—why did it make him feel lighter knowing that you were so very upset with the na-Baron?

You were either his concubine or his promised bride, but either way, it wasn't willingly. And something built on such a fragile foundation was always prone to shattering easily.

He had to kill Feyd-Rautha. For the empire, for his father's legacy, for you.

Paul raised his chin and held his dagger above his forehead. "May thy knife chip and shatter."

Feyd gave him an amused smile, and Paul almost thought his cousin was going to laugh. Instead his pale counterpart nodded his head slightly. "May thy knife chip and shatter."

And then he lunged.

Paul couldn't help it.

Regardless of how close he came to an untimely demise with every swing of Feyd's dagger, he still found his gaze drifting off to watch your every reaction to the duel. Which was definitely how the na-Baron had gotten ahead of his defences and plunged his very own knife into the duke's side.

It was an unexpected hit that had all the Fremen gasping. Their otherworldly messiah receiving a near fatal blow in a battle that would decide the fate of the entire empire would have anyone feeling anxious. Despite all of that, Paul could only focus on you.

While his breathing became shallow, his line of sight caught on you. And the way you gasped and bit at your lower lip to prevent any other sound from slipping past nearly made him smile through the excruciating pain.

Feyd shoved him back to the edge of the makeshift battlefield, the crysknife still lodge deep in Paul's side. The Harkonnen tilted his head to the side the way a viper would when stalking its prey. "You keep looking at my pet, cousin."

Paul grinded down on his molars. Feyd grinned, his mouth parted wide to reveal his black teeth. "It's alright. I'll grant you the most beautiful view while I tear your dying breath out of you."

They met in the middle once again and Feyd immediately had the emperor's blade pointed right above Paul's heart, dangerously close to ending the prophecy before it even began.

Paul glared straight up at his cousin as he held the blade away in his palm. The edges tore through his glove, slicing into his palm.

Everyone held their breath as the messiah held back the brute for dear life.

In the corner of his eye, Paul could see you clutching the dainty necklace hanging off your collarbones, muttering anxiously to yourself as you watched. You blinked, and for a little more than a second your eyes rolled back to reveal the whites, and something clicked in Paul's mind.

When your precious blues rolled down again and you sighed to yourself almost in resignation, he knew what he had to do.

Using Feyd's own force, he pulled the Harkonnen closer, allowing Emperor Shaddam's blade to sink in.

It was like the air was completely sucked out of the room.

A shocked hush fell over the Fremen.

The Harkonnen snarled in premature exhilaration.

The Emperor's people watched on in unsure anticipation.

Then Paul pulled Feyd even closer and the sound of a bone cracking ruptured the quiet all around the two fighters. The Harkonnen held Paul's cheek with an almost gentle caress. His voice was a raspy whisper. "You fought well, Atreides..."

Raven blood seeped past his lips, his grip loosened on Paul, who pulled the very same crysknife that was in his own side just moments prior out of Feyd's chest. The Harkonnen fell to the floor with a sickening thud.

You gripped your necklace, pinching your eyes closed as if you had expected this very outcome but it still stung to see it play out in real time.

The Emperor was frozen in shock.

The Fremen cheered out in a chorus of cheers.

Paul pulled the emperor's dagger out of his shoulder, and then walked past Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's corpse, approaching Shaddam with a steely look in his blue-stained eyes. He dropped the dagger at the dethroned man's feet.

Princess Irulan took a step forward and held an arm out in front of her father, shielding him from the remaining Atreides. "The life debt has been paid! Spare my father and I will be your willing bride."

Paul tilted his head, he could hear his mother's voice in the corners of his mind—could hear her urging him to take the princess as his prize, take the Corrino name as a stepping stool to gaining power over the entire empire.

But Paul had just defeated Shaddam's champion. Therefore Paul would take the title of Emperor regardless of who he took as his bride.

A golden path.

A very narrow way through.

He raised his hand, glove bloody and torn, and pointed straight past the Princess. Everyone gasped again, following with their eyes until all the eyes in the room were on you.

You probably felt like a bug under the Arrakis sun.

"I will take her as my empress." Paul could feel his mother—pardon, the Reverend Mother—trying to worm her way through into his mind, trying to warn him of the possible consequences of going against the plan her and his unborn sister had so meticulously put in motion for him. He snarled slightly, warding her out of his head.

Focusing on you, he raised a brow expectantly. The remaining Harkonnen servants cowered behind you, even going so far as to push you a few steps forward. It seemed the murders of their Baron and his heirs had left them with little hope and a lot of fear for the Fremen Messiah.

You stumbled forward, the force forcing you right past Princess Irulan with an unintended shove. The blonde royal looked up at you with very evident confusion on her face. Her father seemed more relieved with the sudden shift, taking the opportunity to pull his daughter closer into his side and further away from the vengeful Atreides heir.

Paul had seen the path that would lead to a greater future for all, and it started with you by his side. He held his hand out, his bloody palm facing up. It was an almost peaceful gesture if one overlooked the context that led up to this moment. Who would think to reject the Messiah, the Otherworldy Voice, the people's saviour?

There was no real choice in the situation.

Paul waited patiently, admiring the way the Arrakis horizon shone across your bronze skin. "Well?"

It wasn't really a question of whether you accepted his offer. It was more a question of when you would accept it.

Your eyes flickered from his hand to his face, your chest heaving with shallow breaths. This wasn't meant to happen. It was written all over your face.

"No."

Most of the Fremen gasped, while others cursed in chakobsa.

The Harkonnen servants meekly clutched at your robes, their faces scrunched up in panic. "My lady!" One screeched. "Mistress, please!" Another begged. "You have to!" Yet another exclaimed.

You pried their hands off of you, taking as much a step away from them as you could without being any closer to Paul Atreides.

How dare you reject Muad'dib's merciful offering?

It was clear that everyone was thinking a similar variation of the same question.

Despite the rejection, Paul still smiled at you. That was the first time he had heard your voice in real life. It was exactly as he had remembered from his dreams—maybe a bit more terse in tone, but still soft and angelic as in his mind. He smiled because he loved your voice. And he smiled because he had his voice.

"Come to me."

You immediately took a step forward, complying as everyone usually did when commanded to by the Voice. Then you took another, and Paul's smile dropped slowly.

A body commanded by the Voice usually moved quicker than this. You...

You seemed to be fighting it.

Your fingers shook at your sides, your breathing became more shallow, and your eyes...

You had to be a Mentat with the way your bright blue eyes kept rolling back to show the whites, then rolled forward, then back again, then forward again, and then back again.

Your logical mind was fighting Paul's command.

He had never seen that before.

No one could combat a Bene Gesserit using the Voice. No one should be able to combat the Messiah using the Voice.

The Fremen murmured in bewilderment while the former Emperor's people watched on in horror. Paul could feel his mother trying to breach past his mind's walls once more.

You took another step forward, then you let out a shaky breath and pinched your eyes shut. Your white lashes brushed over the apples off your cheeks as a war waged in your own mind.

Then you took a step back, breaking from the command.

The Fremen muttered in tongues, looking between their saviour and this abomination of a woman in astonishment.

Princess Irulan would have lunged forward to steady your shaking form had it not been for her father holding her back. Instead, she called out to you in a fragile voice. "Lady Hawat!"

Your eyes fluttered open, blue irises flickering around in a panic. You were just regaining your right mind, probably wondering what you had done under the new Emperor's influence.

Paul expelled a breath, dropping his hand to his side. This all made a lot of sense. "Lady Hawat." He said lowly, testing the title and name on his tongue. He'd never said it before, not even in his dreams. But... "Are you familiar with the late Thufir Hawat?"

You bit your bottom lip—a habit that Paul came to realise you used to stop yourself from bursting at the seams. You took another step away from him for good measure—or to taunt his fruitless command, he wasn't sure.

"Who?"

You knew him.

The way you scowled and your pale brows drew together gave it away. He could sense the loathing simmering just beneath your skin at the mere mention of the Mentat who had served the Atreides family for three generations of dukes.

"He was your father, wasn't he?"

Far behind Paul, Halleck Gurney's eyebrows furrowed together in a dawning realisation. The resemblance was rather uncanny now that he considered it. The salt-pale hair and the freckles scattered over your cheeks and shoulders were a testament on their own, your pale blue eyes were the only true phenotypical difference.

Those same eyes looked Paul up and down with poorly disguised distaste. "That man has been dead to me since he abandoned me and my mother."

"And yet you inherited all of his traits."

"I must have inherited his uncanny ability to disappoint, because I still refuse your offer, Padishah." Your jaw ticked. So did Paul's. The room felt colder somehow.

Perhaps the first time around was a fluke, so he tried again. With a distorted voice, he commanded once more. "Come to me, my empress."

Your lashes fluttered once more, but this time, your movements were much faster. One foot after the other, you walked straight towards him. The corner of his lip quirked up in self-satisfaction.

When just a step away from him, your eyes did that thing again where they rolled back and forth and back and forth. You suddenly bent down and picked up Shaddam's fallen blade and swung your arm up at Paul with no warning at all. He quickly drew his head back, narrowly avoiding the tip of the blade.

The bridge of his nose was nicked, a thin trail of blood trickling down the arch.

The Fremen clasped at each other in fright. Stilgar muttered strings of prayers under his breath. Gurney tilted his head slightly, watching you intently.

You regained control of your own body again and gripped the hilt more firmly. Then you swung again.

And it was yet another duel that the Messiah had to fight.

You were more skilled than Paul would have thought to give you credit for. You had been many things in his dreams—a ray of hope, his loving wife, the mother to his offspring—but not a warrior. Yet, here you were, swinging at him with the force of a veteran fighter.

He ducked and dodged despite Lady Jessica's voice ringing around in his head to show her no mercy and give her to the desert. He wouldn't hurt you, couldn't even if he wanted to. He needed you alive in order for everything to fall into place.

One swing to the left, an elbow to his head using the same momentum, a punch to his already wounded nose. He blocked each attempt. When he trapped each of your wrists in his hands, the dagger clattered to the floor, and the only sound in the room was your exhausted panting.

He pulled you close until your hands were trapped between your chests. He leaned in until he could nudge his nose against your cheek, smearing his own blood against your freckled skin. His voice was low when he spoke again. "Be mine."

Your eyes rolled back and forth, pretty blues turning white and then blue again. The closer he looked, he realised even your sclera was tinted azure. You simply had to be Fremen...

"No." Your response was guttural and final, echoing throughout the whole room.

Paul sighed. He really wanted to have your hand willingly. He wanted you to feel safer with him than you probably had with Feyd-Rautha. But Paul Atreides was also a Harkonnen at the end of the day.

"Take her."

A few Fremen soldiers immediately came forward and pried you away from him, their grips tight around your arms and back. You struggled, obviously. But the men overpowered you despite your squirming.

Paul looked at you for one last time when Gurney stepped forward and whispered in his ear. "The Great Houses refuse to acknowledge your ascendancy to the throne."

So many obstacles. One path.

He sighed, resigned to his fate.

"Lead them to paradise."

☀️Sunny says: justice for Thufir Hawat😭😭he did NOT die in Dune: Part 1☹️

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