Chapter Text
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The second Feyd alights from the thopter, the unforgiving heat slaps him across the face. Sand swirls around his ankles as he hurries towards his new present, looming high against the hot blue sky. One of his presents anyway . Each breath is scorchingly painful, sitting heavy on his chest like a boot. Feyd bares his teeth in a grin, welcoming the punishing weather. Reveling in the discomfort.
The palace of Arrakeen is sprawling, with towering ceilings and dusty colored walls and floors. It doesn’t strike Feyd as particularly impressive. But then again, that’s not what this is about. The Baron gifted him this palace. This planet. And all the power and majesty that comes with it.
The sound of his boots are loud as he approaches his destination. The Reverend Mother is poised and still in front of the door, half a dozen of her acolytes flanking her like soldiers before battle. Feyd comes to a stop, palming the hilt of his blade in irritation.
Out of the way, witch.
The Reverend Mother’s beaded veil trembles slightly as she cocks her head, opening her mouth to speak.
“Welcome, Feyd-Rautha,” her voice is stiff but commanding, filling the echoing hallway with ease.
He nods in acknowledgment, eager to open the door she is blocking. Impatient to be away from this woman and her judgmental gaze. Excited to see for himself—
“Paul Atreides has survived the ceremony.”
Obviously, or I would not be here.
“He is willing to become your husband and bear your children.”
Doesn’t have much choice in the matter. His Father dead and a proverbial knife likely held to his Mother’s throat.
The Baron had accepted the Bene Gesserit’s terms reluctantly but with good sense. The Atreides line would live on, but through a Harkonnen heir. Through Feyd-Rautha.
He grips the hilt harder, feeling the prick of the cold metal against the palm of his hand. The women in front of him have not moved, standing silent and menacing, looking at him like a bug under a pin. Waiting for him to squirm and writhe. Feyd’s blood flashes hot, warmth suffusing his cheeks. He thinks about stepping forward and slashing their throats in one fell swoop, watching their bodies thud to the floor.
Finally, the Reverend Mother slides back, one claw-like hand gripping the handle and pulling the door outward. The women draw to the side, watching him pass into the room. Two lone figures stand against the far wall.
Feyd saw Leto Atreides once, many years ago. He was a memorable sight: solid and fiercely handsome, honor stamped across his face like a beacon. Feyd had spent many a night after the encounter, tugging viciously on his cock to the thought of the man pressing him down and fucking him mercilessly. This slight boy bears only a passing resemblance to his imposing father, mostly in coloring. The delicate feminine features are clearly from the beautiful woman standing straight and tall like a stone slab beside him.
Paul Atreides looks about as solid as a puff of air: thin boned and light like a bird. His mouth is stern, lips pressed in a firm line, expression serious. A small line bisects his straight black brows, lashes like butterfly wings fluttering downward to avoid Feyd’s gaze. His skin looks frozen cold and palid. Excitement fizzles to nothing in Feyd’s veins, sudden disappointment churning in his stomach.
This isn’t fun at all.
Paul blinks, large eyes snapping upwards. Finally. Feyd’s heart thumps as he sees a flash of hate in his expression, before the boy struggles to pull it back behind the glassy hazel of his eyes. Yes. Feyd can hear the blood rushing in his ears as he thinks of gripping Paul’s pointed little chin and pulling him close. Replacing the taste of his uncle's fleshy mouth with his new husband’s thin lips.
My other present.
The thought makes him giddy. Like watching an opponent fall under the vicious slash of his knife, blood spilling onto the ground and soaking into his skin like a balm.
Behind him, the Reverend Mother sweeps inside.
“It is time,” she intones.
Her words heighten Feyd’s excitement, his cock starting to swell as he thinks of what is to come. Paul raises his chin proudly, looking for all the world like he is about to be fed to a wild beast. Feyd grins, teeth clenching with anticipation.
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