Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She was standing on her tiptoes, but that was the least of her problems.

The leather straps around her wrists bound her tightly, the pain in her body pulsed with every beat of her heart. She could feel sweat and blood trickle down her skin; the lashes came in quick succession in the last few minutes of the session before it was all consumed by an act of intense, passionate sex.

Feyd-Rautha did not go easy on his pleasure slaves.

She wished she didn't have the blindfold on. That was made of a piece of black leather as well, to heighten her senses for the pain that was delivered. An inch or two of her had been spared, but everything else was covered in welts and still bleeding cuts; even her cunt, cum still dripping out of it, had been subjected to the lash. He purposefully aimed for her sensitive little button, and her screams brought him ecstasy when he managed to strike it with the tip of the whip.

She never gave any reason to be punished, but Feyd-Rautha didn't even need a reason. He did it because he wanted to. He did it because he could. Because his possessiveness, his power and control over her brought him pleasure. And she existed to please him until her last breath. Her body was a canvas he enjoyed to paint on with her own blood.

Her sobbing subsided after a few minutes, leaving her panting still, waiting to be released from her bonds. Sometimes he'd leave her hanging for only a few minutes, sometimes she'd stand there for hours. She could never know, never predict; it was all part of her existence. Always waiting. Always dreading the next move. The next order. The next hit.

Quiet footsteps broke the silence around her, and every inch of her muscles tensed up. Panic flared up in her belly. There was a high chance Feyd-Rautha wasn't done yet; although, as soon as he was finished, he left the room and locked the door behind himself. But then… did he even leave? Was that a trick to make her believe she was alone, to see what she'd do? She swallowed, her throat dry and raw. So much pain to please her master. Was she good? Did she perform well? Or did she need more correction…?

Warm fingertips touched an inch of her body; on her waist where she hadn't been marked by the lash. Feyd-Rautha focused his attention on the more sensitive parts of her body; always did, always would. Sometimes, he'd take his time to bring her to the peak of her pain slowly, but most of the time, he liked to apply his torture full force from the very beginning to enjoy her screams as fast as possible.

She trembled and started sobbing anew, staying completely still for the fingers that ever so gently stroked her bare, unmarked skin. The feather-light touches could only mean one thing. He wasn't finished. She knew he wasn't finished, and she had more than enough in her opinion. She was a second away from begging for mercy. She could never decide if it helped or not, sometimes it felt like he halted his torture because she begged – other times, it seemed like that her pleading only brought him more pleasure and spurred him on.

"Shh…"

A voice soothed her, and relief washed over her the second she realised that this voice did not belong to Feyd-Rautha. It wasn't as rough and deep, even if it felt commanding still. With relief came tears of gratitude, but she did not dare to move.

"Master-", she sobbed as he was kneading her skin where he did not cause her pain.

"He didn't go easy on you tonight, did he?"

"No, master", she whispered again, her voice hoarse, pleading.

"Poor little thing."

His lips crashed against hers, and she could feel the melange on his tongue. She complied, obeyed to his every whim, allowing him to take whatever he wanted from her, even if Feyd-Rautha had already taken as much as he could from her.

Paul Muad'Dib Atreides was dead set on carving a path for himself in the universe, to mold everything to his taste, and she was no exception. He took what he wanted, who he wanted, when he wanted. She had no choice but to comply. To resist meant to die.

He pulled away from her and kissed her forehead, too. In an almost… loving way. A part of her wanted to believe it was real, but the motion felt strong. His lips felt like steel; always hard and constantly demanding.

"Let me free you, my angel", he whispered against her skin.

She could already feel his fingers trying to undo the blindfold on her head before he even stopped kissing her. Light was almost blinding; the room had all of its lights on. She thought for a few seconds, wondering when did Paul even enter the room. Feyd-Rautha put the blindfold and the leather straps around her wrists before he brought her here. She couldn't hear anyone enter the room during their session, either… which meant that Paul must've been in the room already.

She squinted a little as she glanced at his face. His slightly curly, dark hair, neatly combed, his eyes, concentrating on releasing her wrists from her bonds, blue within blue. She felt weaker in her knees when she realised how close he really was; it shouldn't have an effect on her, really, he'd seen all of her, touched all of her… claimed all of her… but a part of her always felt more self-aware in his presence; Muad'Dib seemed much less brutal than Feyd-Rautha, but it was also true that he could sentence everyone to death without ever raising his voice. He was a collected, cold man, who was always calculating everyone's next step, ensuring that his future was safe and the way he wanted it. He did not care about anyone else but himself.

She looked away from his face as soon as he was finished freeing her. She didn't want to seem inappropriate for looking in his face like that. Paul had one of his hands under her armpit to steady her on her shaking legs and feet; she felt like she'd collapse at any second. He silently guided her left arm around his neck, then he reached under her slim, malnourished body and lifted her up in his arms. His pitch black shirt felt soft against her cheek.

"By the sands, angel, you're so light", he murmured quietly.

"I'm sorry, master", she whispered as she rested her head on his chest.

It was almost comforting to know that he had a heartbeat. Sometimes, she'd think that Paul and Feyd-Rautha were eternal beings that were created in the home of the gods, sent to punish the universe. Perhaps she wasn't so far from the truth in that regard.

"Are you hungry?" Paul murmured as he walked out of the room with her in his arms.

"No, master."

"When was the last time you ate?"

She slowly closed her eyes as he walked with her. Down a dark corridor. The walls were black. A glowglobe was following them, illuminating the way for Paul. The rhythm of his heartbeat, his scent, brought her a sense of safety, comfort. She should not feel this way, she should be alert… but Feyd-Rautha drained all of her energy.

"Angel", Paul warned quietly when she failed to answer his question.

"I can't remember, master."

"Try to."

Her eyes fluttered open, and her gaze met with his strict expression. She felt small and insignificant. Disposable.

"In the morning", her voice sounded off, as if she was ready to pass out at any given second. But she forced herself to remain awake. God knew what he'd do if she dared to drift off now. He hadn't allowed it. "Cheese and bread."

"And you're not hungry." He looked forward, turned at a corner with her. His voice was quiet, husky, with a twinge of disappointment and disapproval. Her lips trembled; if anything, she'd rather not make Paul disappointed. "I find that hard to believe, dearest."

His lips said dearest, but his eyes were stone cold as he stared forward. Something was making him angry. She made a mental note to eat more – unless of course, this interfered with Feyd-Rautha's direct orders. He liked his toys broken. Weakened, fragile. Pushed to their very limits to extract their desperation as soon as possible.

"I'm sorry, master-"

"Stop apologizing."

Her lips trembled at his cool command. From her position in his arms, he really resembled a hawk, fitting for the last surviving member of House Atreides. She watched the line of his nose with a growing dread for failing him. It was hard not to apologize after he'd told her specifically not to do that. The aches in her body ensured she'd remain as obedient as possible, but hearing him being upset with her put her on the edge. She didn't know where did she commit her mistakes.

They arrived in Paul's private chambers. She knew this place, but she rarely was brought her as she had her own cell in the lower parts of the castle. Even his room looked intimidating; it looked too big for one person. The golden black marble floor, polished to a mirror-like finish, always made her feel like she'd fall through the ground. There were three steps down towards to the middle of the room where his bed stood. It was huge, round, and it was home to many soft looking pillows and cushions covered in black silk. Glowglobes ensured that there was a soft, ambient light that made her sleepier in an instant.

Paul moved with her towards another door that opened from this room. She knew that was his private bathroom where he spared no expense, of course. The corner tub was enormous, and it was made of the same golden black marble as the floor. He slowly placed her down in the tub, which was already filled with warm water – and a concoction that made her sigh in utter relief as soon as she lowered herself in it. It seemed Paul knew what Feyd-Rautha would do to her that night, and had a healing bath prepared for her in advance. Perhaps he'd seen it when he glanced in the future the last time; maybe he knew because Feyd-Rautha told him of his plans for her. Either way, the pain immediately stopped, and as her wounds and welts knitted together and started to fade, she managed to glance up in his eyes.

"Thank you, master", she breathed out.

Paul sat on the edge of the tub, then reached out for her face to stroke her cheek with his thumb. His lips twitched into a half smile.

"You're welcome, angel. Rest, now."

The order was welcomed with gratitude, and her eyes immediately fluttered closed as her breathing slowed to a calm rhythm. Her life became a nightmare in the past few months. She couldn't help but remember how it all began…

By the time the Emperor's servants acquired her at a slave market, she forgot where she came from. She couldn't remember her mother's face or her father's voice, but even the memory of her planet faded to darkness; she was too young when she was sold to a slaveholder – by whom, she couldn't remember. Shaddam Corrino IV. always needed more people for his palace, and thus, she was bought after a few years spent in service to the slaveholder.

The day when the Emperor's delegation landed on Arrakis, she was unfortunate enough that she was brought there as well. Being one of the Princess's handmaidens – as she was reliable, hard working and quiet, so Irulan preferred her company –, she was quite close when the events unfolded and the Emperor met Muad'Dib, the threat on Arrakis that she'd heard whispers about.

"There is a massed armada in orbit", the Emperor warned as they all walked back in the room to meet Muad'Dib once more. "You're facing a full invasion, fremen."

"How can you be so sure the Great Houses are here for me? They may be curious to hear my side of the story, don't you think? I am Paul Atreides, son of Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis." He gave the delegation a few seconds to let that sink in, before he turned to one of his soldiers. "Gurney."

"My Lord", Gurney responded immediately.

"Send a warning to all ships. If the Great Houses attack, our atomics will obliterate all spice fields."

"You're out of your mind", the Emperor taunted.

"He's bluffing", she could see, even from where she stood, that Feyd-Rautha was smiling.

"Consider what you're about to do, Paul Atreides-"

Gaius Helen Mohiam Reverend Mother she'd seen visit Irulan spoke up, and Paul turned his head to look at her.

"SILENCE!"

The power of his Voice didn't only affect the Reverend Mother, but of those around her. Princess Irulan, the guards, the other servants – and the future Emperor's future slave – were shoved backwards by the power of it.

That was the first moment she'd felt a new, unknown fear. Up until that moment, she thought she knew what fear was, but the second Paul used his Voice to literally shove the Reverend Mother back – who, she knew, had a lot of power in the Voice as well –, she realised that this was new.

"...abomination..." Gaius Helen Mohiam whispered.

"Message sent, my Lord", Gurney reported, and Paul stared back at the Emperor.

"As a servant of the Imperium, you will bow at my feet", Shaddam Corrino IV. warned him, but Paul was having none of it.

"Your feet?!" The little servant pulled backwards still at Paul's shout. "You'll be lucky to keep your head."

Would they all be executed now? The servant looked at Princess Irulan's face, finding that the very same thought crossed her mind as her gaze met with Paul's. But it wasn't him who spoke next.

"You're supposed to be mine."

Every head turned to Feyd-Rautha, who, in return, was staring at Paul Atreides. The latter did not move his head, only his blue within blue eyes, to meet the gaze of the Harkonnen.

"Cousin", he whispered.

"Cousin?" Feyd-Rautha seemed just slightly surprised, but then, a small smile stretched on his face. "Is that right?"

"I wouldn't be the first relative you killed", Paul added sorrowfully.

Feyd-Rautha's smile stretched further. There was some sort of gentleness in his rough voice when he replied.

"I am more useful to you alive than dead."

"Correct."

Not just she looked puzzled, but the rest of the gathering, too. The fremen looked indecisive about the conversation, while the Emperor visibly tried to gauge everyone's next step. They were all disarmed the second they were brought in the makeshift prison in the Emperor's little haven he brought to Arrakis, and yet, a second later, a blade flashed in Feyd-Rautha's hand. The servant saw it, because she stood just beside Princess Irulan; she saw the blade penetrate and vacate the old Emperor's chest.

Her lips parted in horror as she stared at the irreversible deed, but her voice was still lost after Paul's shouted command at the Reverend Mother. Feyd-Rautha did not seem to mind about the chaos that erupted around him; he shoved the now bleeding Emperor out of his way. She saw a flash of the shortsword's blade again, and as she shut her eyes tight, fearing for her life. She heard that something fell in front of her feet with a heavy thump. Something warm splashed on her face's left side; from the direction where Princess Irulan stood.

She had a few seconds to look down at what hit the ground. It was Princess Irulan's head, her eyes wide, mouth frozen in a middle of a scream, her expression forever telling a tale of her shock.

The battle did not last long, and she couldn't remember much of it. Only later did she piece the puzzle back together; other servants' and slaves' stories filled the gaps in. There were many who jumped right into the fight; the Emperor's men against the fremen, Paul and mainly, Feyd-Rautha. The Sardaukar attempted to murder Feyd-Rautha for his treason, but he was a highly skilled warrior, and as soon as they turned on Feyd-Rautha, Paul joined in the fight on his side. The remaining servants and soldiers either tried to make a run for it, or they attempted to fight the fremen who attacked and killed everyone on sight as soon as they saw that their leader was in danger.

It ended way too suddenly. Even with the Sardaukar, the followers of the Emperor had no chance. Those who surrendered were brought to the back of the room while the leaders decided to measure the damage that was done. Because even though they could not win the fight, the Sardaukar managed to kill a few of Paul's army.

Paul's fury and grief could be felt, even from the back of the room where she was forced to kneel to wait for the verdict. She did not want to die, but she also knew that there were worse fates than death; after she spent years under a slaveholder's firm hand, she had some experience just how bad life could be. Which was why it made her insides churn with fear when Muad'Dib stood from one of the fremen who fell in the battle – a girl –, and turned to face the remaining survivors.

She knew that look on his face.

He silently walked towards the back of the room and stared down at the surviving people. They were lined up just a bit away from the wall, ordered to keep their hands on the back of their heads. She didn't dare to look up at his face as he walked past her, his steps quiet. At the other end of the row, she could hear that he sliced the throat of one of the prisoners open with his crysknife.

She shut her eyes tight, but couldn't block out the noises. Two steps, pause, slice. Two steps, pause, slice. Blood pouring, people choking, struggling, dying. Two steps, pause. A girl she knew, another servant of the Emperor, begged for her life just beside her. She remembered briefly that this girl worked in the kitchens, and she was very watchful whenever she visited that place to make sure she wouldn't steal food for herself. A few moments of the servant tearfully begging before she heard the unmistakable noise of a human's flesh yielding to a blade.

Two steps.

Pause.

She waited for the crysknife to cut her neck open, too.

…pause?

Silence…?

A part of her wanted to open her eyes, to look up and see his expression, but another part of her felt like that would be a mistake. She was innocent – most of them were, everyone knew that, but she was a part of the late Emperor's inner circle; her loyalties must've lied with them, thus, she had to die.

The stillsuit creaked on his arm as he moved.

Tears escaped, even through her eyes she kept tightly shut. The other servant beside her went completely still by then, and she prayed her death would be swifter than this. She didn't want to suffer. Please end it fast. End it fast. End it-

"Look at me."

His voice was quiet, measured, cold. She opened her eyes when she realised he was speaking to her – and her eyes slowly traveled up on his tall form to look in his face. His brows furrowed, his lips a thin line, a storm rampaging in his eyes. His eyes, which had no white in them, only blue. In that moment, to her, he looked like as an angel of Death.

Muad'Dib held his right hand out for her. She glanced down at it; he still held the crysknife in his hand, and it was covered in blood. Her stomach turned at the coppery smell of it. More tears escaped from her eyes, clearing some of Princess Irulan's blood off of her face. What did he want? Should she willingly push herself forward, towards the blade, so it'd enter her neck?

Little did she know that he'd seen something in their shared future, something, that made him wish to spare her. She could be useful. Feyd-Rautha has changed the outcome of his future, and it cost him dearly – but why not plan forward, should he want to change the course himself?

"Kiss it", he demanded, turning his hand in a way that the Atreides signet ring on his index finger was closer to her face, and not the crysknife.

She swallowed thickly when she saw that his hand was covered in sand, dirt – and blood. Some crimson drops landed on the hawk on the ring. She felt the hot tears escape her eyes as she did as she was ordered; the coppery taste of God knew whose blood made her stomach turn. His gaze ever so slightly softened as she pressed her lips against the hawk.

He silently lowered his hand, the bloodied crysknife still in it, and he averted his gaze.

Two steps. Pause. Slice.

She remained alive because the Emperor has made that choice. Not because she, or Feyd-Rautha had a say in it. Because Paul wanted it. He needed her, wanted her for something none of them but he knew.

And it made her dread the future more than anything else.

"Are you awake?"

"Yes, master", she murmured, slowly opening her eyes to look up in his face.

She had a few moments to observe his expression. Dark circles under his always calculating gaze let her know that he had a lot of duties as the Emperor, but even above those duties, he decided to take care of her. A part of her wondered, why. Did it make him feel slightly better if he saw to it that she's all healed up? Did it bring him a little bit of peace to know that she was safe? Around him, she needn't worry about being hurt. He had his needs, but those could be easily satisfied. She didn't have the luxury of saying no, but he was much easier to please than Feyd-Rautha… and while at least she vaguely knew the consequences with the latter man, she had no idea what would happen if she ever disobeyed Paul, thus, she was very careful not to make any mistakes.

"Tell me", he muttered now, his voice a quiet, deep whisper, "do you hate me?"

Her lashes fluttered at the question. Was there even a good answer to this? Why was he testing her? She was so tired. She just wanted to be left alone to sleep in peace – and, preferably, never wake up again.

"I do not hate you, master", she murmured, just as quietly.

He stared in her eyes in a way that she felt like he could see right into her soul. She felt like she had been stripped bare; even more bare than how she appeared to be.

"Are you afraid of me?"

Why should she deny the truth? Perhaps if she answered truthfully, he'd let her rest.

"Yes, master."

He ever so slightly tilted his head. He looked slightly disappointed.

"Why?"

Her brows twitched at his question. He really needed to ask? Didn't he remember that he had her in the throne room where he condemned hundreds to execution with a single motion of his hand? Didn't he remember how he had used the Voice to control those who did not want to bend their knees to him?

"Because… because you are terrifying, master."

There was a brief moment when she honestly thought he'd roar at her for her reply, but it passed quickly. His expression fell; he averted his gaze and his composure deflated. He looked… lost? Sad? Lonely? She couldn't understand what emotion she saw on his face, it was too complex.

"I've never caused you pain deliberately."

She was very careful not to move when he said that, because while she agreed that no, he did not, his tone sounded like he almost added: yet.

"Let's get you out of there", he sighed before he stood and grabbed a towel for her. She tried to stand, of course, but her muscles were trembling from all the exertion that day. As she moved her legs and arms, she realised that every motion hurt, and it was even worse that she couldn't muster the energy to stand on her own. It seemed that Paul noticed that she was still in pain. "Don't", he warned quietly, when he saw that she was unable to stand on her own, "I'll get you out myself."

He decided to let the water drain before he wrapped her up in the towel and got her out of the tub. Usually other slaves took care of her whenever Feyd-Rautha decided to have his fun with her; it was unusual to look up in the eyes of Muad'Dib as he was drying her off once he settled her on her bare feet on the soft rug in his own private bathroom. His hands gently rubbed her now healed up skin with the towel, making sure she was dry everywhere; he crouched to make sure even her feet was taken care of.

She stared forward, thinking nothing as he was working. A few minutes later she realised that he dressed her in a dark blue nightgown. Its material felt weird against her skin. She glanced down at herself and Paul's little smile remained successfully undetected by her as he watched her awestruck expression.

How meaningful a piece of clothing was to her… he made a mental note to have her to himself more often. Feyd-Rautha claimed her way too many times lately. It seemed that she was his favourite as well.

"Come", he told her once his smile faded as soon as she glanced up at him, "let's eat." She looked indecisive all of a sudden, and his brows twitched at that. He tilted his head just slightly when she averted her gaze, wanting to keep up eye contact between them so he could read her even better. "I remind you that I own you, angel."

The words did what they did best: brought colour to her cheeks. Every time he reminded her that she was his, she'd blush. With embarrassment. For forgetting it. The pain Feyd-Rautha inflicted upon her erased everything else, it seemed.

That just was not right. He wouldn't tolerate it for much longer.

"Did he specifically tell you that you can not eat?"

Paul's voice was cautious, the anger that was bubbling up within his chest, carefully hidden from his tone. She still did not look him in the eye again. He noticed her hands fidgeted with the edge of her nightgown. He was quick to piece together the puzzle.

"Am I not your Emperor, angel?"

As Paul brought his index finger under her chin, she shuddered, but didn't pull away from him. Her eyes finally shifted back on his face. She was observing the sharp line of his jaw, his cheekbones, his chin as she swallowed.

"Yes, you are, master", she murmured, her gaze reluctantly meeting his blue within blue eyes. "But so is he."

"That is true", Paul gently stroked her skin under her chin. "But when you are with me, his rules do not apply. I am not him, angel. I won't hurt you like he does."

He damned everyone who trained him the way they did, because he could see that she did not believe him.

Chapter Text

He sat her on the edge of his own bed and motioned at the tray on the small table beside her.

"Eat."

She looked indecisive again. She hesitated as she glanced at the tray. Why couldn't he understand that despite the fact that she had two masters, she had to obey both of them - and that their orders were opposite from one another now? She tried to decide who was more frightening out of the two. She bit her lower lip and chanced a look at Paul who decided to crouch in front of her.

"I am unsure how much should I eat, master."

Her curious, cautious sentence made him furrow his brows. He was, without a doubt, a very handsome man; perhaps in another universe, she would've seen only the good side of him.

"As much as you can."

As much as you can – well, that left her puzzled. In his presence, her stomach shrunk to the size of her fist. It did not help that she didn't want to screw this up, but she couldn't properly do as she was told. Her hands twitched in her lap where they rested.

Seeing her impassivity, Paul realised that this would be harder than he thought. His lips formed a thin line as he furrowed his brows further, truly resembling a hawk focusing on his prey.

"Tell me why you're not obeying me."

He ordered now, no, demanded an answer, immediately, and Paul felt a twinge of guilt when the colour left her face – but it soon faded when she started to shake her head in distress. Paul reached up to cup her cheeks, the sudden motion making her twitch and squeak. A part of him felt horrible for making her feel so scared.

"What is it, angel? Tell me. Don't be afraid." He gently kissed her forehead and he felt her hot tears rolling down against his fingers. "Hey, hey", he pulled away, looking in her eyes as he stroked her tears away. "Everything is alright. I won't hurt you, there's no wrong answer to my question. Tell me the truth."

The truth! That was so easy to command when he had made it very clear that he did not like knowing she only ate once that day! Why did those who owned her require the complete opposite from her?

"I'm- I can only eat once a day, master."

"I see." Paul's voice dropped a bit, then he slowly inhaled and exhaled as he used his learned techniques to calm himself down. He'd have a few words with Feyd-Rautha about this. "Do you understand that I am his equal?"

Her brows twitched slightly.

"Yes, master."

"Good. So, following that logic, that I am his equal, because we're both Emperors and we both own you – I can overwrite his rules, isn't that right?"

Paul watched as her terror induced mind was trying to accept what he was saying. He could see, thanks to his Mentat training, that she was trying her best to be as good for him as possible. That gave him a sliver of hope. She was not completely lost.

"I think so, yes, master", she murmured indecisively.

"Alright. Then forget his stupid rule. You're eating three times a day, and you're going to eat all of it, right now."

Paul waited, and she eyed the tray again, still hesitating. What in the sands did Feyd-Rautha promise he'd do to her if she broke this rule? He could imagine, although, he really did not wish to. After hesitating for a few more seconds, she reached out for the tray and moved it in her lap.

All of it.

Having consumed mostly bland foods in the past few days, the fruits and vegetables beside the fresh bread and cheese looked a lot for her. She wasn't sure she'd be able to eat all of that – but the 'all of it' sounded very specific. Really – all of it?

Another beauty of her training was that she was not allowed to ask questions, and Paul did not say anything about that rule. Frankly, he probably didn't even know about it. So she didn't ask. Just ate.

She did not stop, not even when the second half of the food made her feel nauseous. She did not look in his eyes as she did as she was told, but tears helplessly gathered in her eyes when she saw just how much more she was supposed to send down.

Paul observed her as she finally started to eat. He tilted his head to the right as tears gathered in her eyes. What was this, now? Didn't she feel relief that she was finally allowed to have good quality food? Her body must've been low on vitamins and necessary nutrients. He could recall that every breath she took earlier that evening allowed him see her ribs. Paul remembered the way she was forced to stand on her tiptoes, pulling every muscle in her body tight; the way she drew breath after breath to scream, even during the pauses between the lashes that landed on the most sensitive parts of her body.

That wasn't just a lesson for her.

Now, again, he wondered if he had any chances to quit this situation. He didn't want to be what he had to be, and he wanted his union with Feyd-Rautha even less. He recalled what Gurney told him once: that Harkonnens were brutal, in every sense of the word.

But the truth was... he was Harkonnen, too. Did that mean that a part of him enjoyed watching her suffer? She had served the Princess Irulan, and ultimately, the Emperor. Why should he even feel bad for not intervening when Feyd-Rautha dished out so much pain to her? She must've been loyal to the Imperium if she could wriggle herself so high, from a servant's viewpoint… being the handmaiden of the daughter of the Emperor surely brought priviliges… but they couldn't really know, as everyone else from the Emperor's court was dead.

He swallowed now as he brought himself back to the present, and he silently watched her as she was silently crying. He noticed that now every bite was a visible struggle, but she did not stop. Was it him now who tormented her? He wasn't even aware he was doing it.

"What's the matter?" He murmured, his quiet voice making her flinch slightly.

"I- I can't, master", she managed to squeak, her voice a whisper that had been pushed through all of her fear.

Raw fear. You are terrifying. It was fascinating to see for how long a human could be kept in terror. Even if he wasn't causing her any harm, she was torturing herself for him. Constantly.

"You can't what?"

She was biting her lower lip so hard that Paul was sure she'd draw her own blood. As if it wasn't enough how many times she was covered in it so often, she caused herself enough damage to do the same!

"I can't- I'm sorry, I can't eat all of it, master."

She spoke fast, her tone a tad higher than usual as her big tears rolled down her cheeks. Paul sighed in his defeat. This just won't do.

"Darling, it's alright." He reached for a handkerchief, making sure that he moved slow enough that he wouldn't frighten her. Again. He glanced back up in her eyes once he dried her tears up, his own blue within blue gaze looking way too tired by then. "Just eat as much as you need."

"Master", she murmured, puzzled, "you said I had to eat all of it."

He stared at her for a long few seconds. Those seconds stretched for eternity for her. New tears gathered in her eyes when she realised that this was not a good answer, but there were so many things she could do.

Tell the truth.

Address her owners properly.

Perform tasks to the letter.

All those rules were drilled hard into her head and she couldn't understand why didn't they reach the desired reaction from Paul when she did everything he asked – or at least, tried to. Feyd-Rautha would react accordingly. If he ordered her to eat it all and she admitted that she couldn't, he'd retaliate that. Her body would be covered in new welts and cuts for sure; and a part of her almost wished Paul would do something similar, too. Yes, it would hurt, but it'd also make her free of the guilt she felt, thus, it'd make her feel better. Why was Paul so… different? Was it… wrong?

It was wrong.

"I did… not mean it… like that", he said slowly.

He put the handkerchief down on the nightstand and pinched the bridge of his nose as he shut his eyes in pure frustration. He didn't think she'd take that as an order, much less that she'd take it literally – or else! That was the worst of it. Because he knew what she thought he'd do to her if she didn't do as she was told.

"God, I'm so tired", he sighed, mainly to himself, before he lowered his hand and looked up at her again. Obviously, she looked even more distressed, and seeing that, he gave up entirely. They will not go through all of this that night. "Alright. Let's try it again. Are you hungry?"

She struggled for a few moments between telling the truth and lying to escape impending punishment. Her lower lip wobbled. No, she couldn't lie. If she was caught, the punishment for that would be far worse.

"No, master."

"Good." He took the tray from her and placed it on the nightstand. "Lie down in the bed, cover yourself with the sheet if you're feeling cold, make yourself comfortable, and relax. Try and fall asleep, alright? It's fine if you're struggling to do so, you've had an awful day."

"Yes, master."

She did exactly as he'd told her. She lied down, covered herself with the sheet – right up to her neck –, and curled up on the bed, making herself comfortable with pillows. Paul half smiled, but it was short-lived, as her eyes still looked terrified.

"You'll stay here with me", he promised softly, "you can sleep for as long as it suits you."

He had decided earlier that Feyd-Rautha would have some time in the court, so he allowed himself one day of rest with her. It may prove challenging if he had to go through every little thing, but he did not want to be alone. He wanted to pretend, if even for a day, that he had the illusion of companionship.

Perhaps that was why Feyd-Rautha challenged him that day.

Their constant push and pull for power over the other proved to be a tiring game already, but on top of the council and war meetings, Paul found himself drained much faster than he initially thought. He felt like he was ready to lead the fremen against the universe, if there was a need, and he was powerful enough to do that, but the rest of it? Living up to the Harkonnens' – especially Feyd-Rautha's – expectations? Dealing with his cold, detached demeanor?

Paul huffed quietly as he sat on the edge of the bed, showing his back to her as he removed his shoes. He'd never be able to leave Arrakis, everyone knew that. The seat of his power was there. And now that he had to share his power with Feyd-Rautha, the Harkonnen was bound to remain on Arrakis as well.

"You look tired, master", she mumbled behind him, and he half smiled as he stared forward, seeing nothing.

"I am tired, angel", he muttered before he pulled his feet up on the bed and lied down beside her, facing her, this time.

She took her time observing his face. The dark circles under his completely blue eyes, the line of his mouth, the way his brows seemed like they couldn't not frown. She decided she liked his face. It was pleasant for her to look at him. He observed her the same way, in silence, taking in the details of her features, and for once, she felt relatively safe. And while she knew it wouldn't last for long, she wanted to commit it to memory; these moments would be rare in the future. She could feel it.

Paul's lashes fluttered a bit before he raised a hand to touch her cheek. As he expected, she flinched, but he didn't mention it, just stroked her face with his thumb. His finger felt rough against her skin, from practising with the sword every day, no doubt, but it did not feel bad at all. After a few seconds, Paul removed his hand and rested it between them.

"Try to sleep", he murmured as he closed his eyes. "Good night, angel."

"Good night, master", she whispered.

It was fascinating how he trusted her enough that he wanted to fall asleep with her in his bed. Did he trust her? After all that happened… how could that be that he thought she was completely harmless? Of course, she heard the legends… she knew that he could foresee the future, thanks to the spice and being something… they had a name for that… she couldn't remember.

There wasn't much she could pick up from the other slaves and servants. She was the one and only Feyd-Rautha did not kill after the first few nights – other pleasure slaves weren't as 'lucky' as she was. Paul had told Feyd-Rautha that he couldn't keep his cannibalistic darlings when Feyd-Rautha moved to Arrakis, so he had nothing but what this planet had to offer. It was odd he grew attached to her, out of all people; he could've had anyone, really, with the power he had at his fingertips. But perhaps it was more exciting to know that he was tormenting the handmaiden of Princess Irulan.

She felt a twinge of sorrow whenever she thought of the late Princess. She thought of all the things she had to do for her, and how kind she was towards her once she realised that she was reliable. She'd shown her her writings, the books she'd been working on, and sometimes, the Princess allowed her to spend some time with her in the library to read a book she liked… which she was allowed to keep…

Soon after, she had nothing, not even her name once more. Paul's army destroyed everything the Emperor, and his servants, had. Even the clothes she was wearing were taken from her and burned.

She opened her eyes when Paul twitched beside her. His brows furrowed in his dream, his fingers moved in an attempt to grab something. She realised he was dreaming.

"Nn… no…"

His quiet murmur made her furrow her brows, now. Did he have a nightmare? She knew she should not be curious, but she couldn't help it; what could he dream about? He was the Emperor… the most powerful being in the universe – in unison with Feyd-Rautha, true, but his power over the known universe was infinite.

She moved just slightly closer, but he did not wake up, even though he protested in a soft murmur again, and his expression scrunched up for a few seconds. She bit her lower lip. She shouldn't. She shouldn't. Mustn't. It'd violate his rest. But, at the same time… he owned her, and she must serve her, and he had been nice to her… or tried to… right?

She ever so slowly reached out, between the bed and his head, to touch his temple.

Her eyes rolled up in their sockets before they closed shut as she absorbed his nightmares.

Visions of the past and the future intertwined in her mind; most of the pictures and sounds were gibberish and made no sense to her, but some were positively terrifying. She couldn't know if they even happened at some point to Paul or were they just imagined or possible futures and pasts. Temples raised, families and entire planets burned alive in his name. Two children, abandoned. Paul, without eyes, wandering in the desert completely alone. Caladan, attacked by Harkonnens. Feyd-Rautha, dead, lying on the ground, his eyes and mouth wide open, a crysknife in Paul's hand as he stood above him. Feyd-Rautha suffocating Paul… Paul standing between Feyd-Rautha and her to protect her… her… with a child in her arms? Her, dead, lying on a table, as white as the snow, eyes wide open and vacant, mouth hung open, her hair flowing down towards the floor, her body taken apart… dissected like an animal…

She couldn't remove her hand from Paul's temple. They've spent the entire night like that; his mind finally getting a rest while hers was trying to catch up with everything it experienced.

The horrors he had to see every night he went to sleep, when he couldn't keep the visions in check. He could direct the paths he saw when he was awake, but when he was asleep, everything went their own course.

And she absorbed it all.

The morning found Paul completely rested. That was odd. He couldn't get a good night's sleep in months. Not since he was on Arrakis. He opened his eyes and saw her; pale face, closed eyes that turned beneath her closed lids. His mind remained astonishingly empty. Paul ever so gently moved to sit up, a frown on his face. She twitched and twisted, turned around on her other side as soon as the connection was broken, and she let out a soft gasp as she woke up.

"Are you awake?"

That soft, quiet question was enough to make her tremble on the bed. She couldn't turn to look at him, not now, not like this. It felt like she stole something from him, something she could never give back… something she wasn't allowed to see.

But Feyd-Rautha's training kicked in all over again. She couldn't not answer a question her betters asked of her.

"I-" A brief pause as she was trying to gather her thoughts. Everything was hazy. She knew she'd need days to get through with all that she'd seen and heard. "Yes, master."

"Did you sleep well?"

Tell the truth.

She flinched slightly. She made her decision. If he knew, she wouldn't get away with it easily. Stealing like that-

"Yes, master."

Paul reached out and ever so gently rubbed her shoulder, making her flinch again. Did he know she lied just now…?

"We will spend the day in here", he decided, "I want to learn more about you."

His slender fingers ran down her back, making her shiver.

"I can't tell you much, master." She paused when he did not answer, just kept stroking her back. "I am just a slave."

"You're more than that", he drew closer, making her breath hitch in her chest. She was afraid to move, like a little mouse who'd been found by the cat. "Aren't you?"

He knew he didn't have visions when he slept because of her. She shut her eyes tightly but all she saw was herself, lying on that table under the bright light, her insides spread out, on display. He knew. A muffled sob broke out of her. He knew. Was that her future? Her definite future? He knew. Or a possible future? If he saw all of these things, all the time – how could he not lose his mind?

He knew.

"Master, I am nothing-"

"Where are you from?"

"I can't remember, m-"

Paul did not wait for her to finish her sentence.

"Who are your parents?"

"I don't remember them, ma-"

"How did you get so close to the Emperor and his daughter?"

Paul grabbed her shoulder and pulled her to force her to lie on her back. He resembled a hawk more than ever; his sharp features enhanced by the frown on his beautiful face. She trembled under him; she had no way to escape the interrogation.

"The servants of Shaddam Corrino IV. picked me up at the Outer Rim of this galaxy, master", she answerred truthfully, "I've been serving a slaveholder with a couple of other slaves. I do not remember anything else before that, master. I can't remember who sold me, I can't remember my parents or my home planet, master. I've tried-", she added when his eyes darkened. She misunderstood it; she thought he was angry at her, when in fact, he was helplessly furious at those who sold her in the first place. "I've tried to remember, master. I really did. I'm- I'm sorry for my failure, master-"

Her voice was muffled by fear of the inevitable punishment for not being effective enough, for not being able to provide answers. But Paul seemed thoughtful instead. His blue within blue eyes searched her face; she had the features of a noble, not a lowborn. He tilted his head a little.

"It's alright", he replied then, his voice calm now. He'd search the past and the future for answers, and he'd see what he'd find. "Don't worry about it. Today, we just rest."

And that was the truth. She was allowed to stay in a safe, calm environment the entire day. Close to him. Safe with him.

It did not last long.

She was bound in a pillory, blindfolded, ring gagged the next evening, on stage for a show. All she could do was moan, scream and drool, as Feyd-Rautha was decorating her body with a lash. Again.

It seemed like this was his favourite passtime. Whipping his favourite pleasure slave was something that could get him to relax, to release all the pent up stress for sitting in damned meetings every damned day. Tormenting a helpless woman brought him pleasure.

Understanding this didn't make Paul understand him better, much to his frustration. He couldn't decide how to proceed with him. How to keep him under check. How to keep him on a leash tight enough, so he wouldn't cause harm to his legacy. He wasn't stupid enough to use the Voice on him; Feyd-Rautha was untameable, and if he tried to practise control over him like that, it could cause a disaster. If anything, Paul wanted to avoid killing the Harkonnen. It'd create too many complications. At the moment, he had no choice but to partake in his sick games to see what the other really wanted from him.

Feyd-Rautha rested the whip across her back.

"Keep it there", he ordered gruffly, and she went stock still.

From where Paul was told to sit and watch, he could see that Feyd-Rautha shot him a challenging look. He didn't say anything, but his gaze said it all anyway: you demand I keep her alive, and yet you do nothing when I torment her? Her back and bottom, right down to her thighs, were covered in vivid, red welts by now. Any more harsh strokes and Feyd-Rautha would probably draw blood. But it wasn't his intention tonight. He wanted to see how much stimulation Paul needed to join in.

Feyd-Rautha walked back to her with weights in his hands, which he attached to her nipples with clamps. The noises she made as the weights pulled on her breats made Feyd-Rautha glance back at Paul with a smirk, before he flicked the weights, drawing pathetic whines out of her.

That seemed to be the last straw. Paul silently, slowly rose from his seat, like a dark shadow of a bad omen, and approached them in silence; she was too preoccupied breathing heavily through all the pain inflicted on her body. She couldn't even see anything because of her blindfold, anyway... but she could feel fingers gently run up her inner thigh a second later. Given that Feyd-Rautha's firm hands were still tangled in her hair, it wasn't hard to piece it together that they were not alone. She shuddered at the touch that travelled up on her thigh, closer and closer to her heat between her thighs. The fingers never touched her there, but a tongue- her little button was so sensitive by then that she thought for a moment she'd cum only from that one stroke of that hot, wet tongue.

Paul kept his eyes on Feyd-Rautha's face. The Harkonnen's lips parted; how dared he ruin his game of pain he staged for their shared slave? A low growl left him at the sight of Paul devouring, worshipping her cunt. Her thighs trembled as she was trying to reach her orgasm, but a few seconds later she moaned again as Paul removed the weigths from her breasts. The noise of the weights hitting the floor had Feyd-Rautha narrow his eyes. She gasped as Paul gently massaged the pain out of her breasts, bringing her even closer to her peak.

This just won't do.

Feyd-Rautha roughly removed his underwear, grabbed her hair and pushed it all back against the wood in which she was trapped in, to shove his cock down her helpless throat. He couldn't allow his slave finish before him - but the way Paul was taunting him made him feral. Even from this distance, he could see that the dark haired man was smiling as he was pleasuring her, and Feyd-Rautha wanted to wipe that smile off of the other's face as soon as possible.

He pulled away from her mouth and let her cough and gag, before he walked slowly behind her as well. Paul didn't mind him; until Feyd-Rautha grabbed him by his arm and yanked him up on his feet. She helplessly whined at that; she was so close just a moment ago, and it felt awful to be denied.

"If you want to play games with me", Feyd-Rautha growled in Paul's ear, "prepare to lose."

Paul opened his mouth to reply, but his words never came as Feyd-Rautha yanked his pants off of him. A brief moment of panic before he was pushed forward, made to bend against her body, forced to grab the pillory just behind and above her. His hard cock was stuck under her dripping cunt, her backside radiated heat against his body, and he started to pant heavily himself as soon as he felt Feyd-Rautha force himself inside of him.

Memories of their first night together flooded back in his mind. He resisted - although weakly, it was easy for Feyd-Rautha to twist Paul's right arm behind him.

"N-no", he whimpered, making Feyd-Rautha chuckle darkly in his ear, causing goosebumps to raise all down his spine.

"You moan like a girl", he teased darkly, grabbing Paul's curly hair to pull his head back with his left hand and whisper in his ear. "Perhaps I should call you my wife from now on."

"Feyd-"

"Shut the fuck up", Feyd-Rautha thrusted in, making Paul cry out in pleasure and pain, "and take it."

She trembled beneath Paul as she felt the hard thrusts herself with which Feyd-Rautha claimed his husband. Paul's every noise changed from the last; the painful whines rapidly transformed into pleasured moans as he was stuck between her and his husband.

"You want to make sure she enjoys herself", Feyd-Rautha whispered in Paul's ear between his thrusts, his own orgasm building rapidly in his belly, "so fuck her."

"Feyd!!"

Paul cried out softly, in absolute ecstasy. He knew that one single stroke to his cock would end him.

"Do it", Feyd-Rautha growled, pausing his thrusts to pull Paul back from her, just a bit. "Can't leave her like this, can we? All that foreplay... ending it with an empty cunt would be a waste for all of us."

It was true Paul wanted to divert Feyd-Rautha's attention. He wanted him to stop hurting her, yes. But at what cost? What did he create with this? His visions never showed him this, and he was taken by surprise by the events.

When he still did not move, Feyd-Rautha did it for him, guiding him inside her warmth. She tensed up, her thighs trembled, Paul's knuckles went white as he was gripping the wood above her head as hard as he could. Helpless tears formed at the corners of his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling, but he saw nothing. If Feyd-Rautha started moving again... he'd-

"Good boy", Feyd-Rautha praised him, making heat spread in his body, "it wasn't that hard, was it?"

"Feyd-", Paul pleaded.

"Who would've thought", Feyd-Rautha chuckled deeply, gripping Paul's hair tighter as he whispered in his ear, "that the fremens' great Muad'Dib, their precious Voice from the Outer World... is just a needy little slut."

His thrusts returned with full force, and Paul quickly lost the coherence of his own thoughts. There was nothing but pleasure. He reached back with one of his hands to get a grip on Feyd-Rautha - trying to find a handle of some sort to make him realise that they were in this mess together. Two Harkonnens, two Emperors - two sides of the same coin.

"Make her cum", Feyd-Rautha growled in his ear, forcing him to bend over her body. The whip fell to the ground, forgotten by all of them. Up until now, she was almost quiet; her reactions to Paul's rutting was almost inaudible compared to Paul's lusftul moans. "Use your hands."

It was so easy to just obey. He didn't even think, he still couldn't form a coherent thought. There was absolutely no resistance, and it was fascinating. His right hand travelled down under her, and he quickly found what he was looking for. Her thighs were trembling a little more violently as he drew hard circles around her sweetest spot. Knowing and feeling that Paul was trapped between her and Feyd-Rautha kept her on the edge, and now, his fingers on her needy clit-

"Cum for me, you whores", Feyd-Rautha snapped above them, dragging his nails down Paul's back before he leaned down as well, reaching for her breasts to squeeze them hard.

She cried out first, and squeezed Paul inside of her deliciously, which brought him over the edge, which, in return, finally brought Feyd-Rautha to the peak of his pleasure as well. Minutes passed in their joint ecstasy, moans and panting filled the room as they came down from their highs together. Paul rested his right hand against her belly, his left hand still gripping the wood of the pillory, while Feyd-Rautha had them both in his arms.

"Neither of you should forget", the Harkonnen whispered, satisfied, "that you both belong to me."

Chapter Text

A vulgar display of wealth.

That was what she was.

She entered the room on Feyd-Rautha's side, a bright smile on her face, her arm hooked around his, as if she had been a proper lady - or Empress, for that matter. Her elegant dress was worth more than a fortune, and it seemed like it was made of liquid gold. The tiara that sat on top of her head had several black diamonds sitting in them; a proper sign of how Paul's shining light as Muad'Dib was the foundation, but, at the same time, Feyd-Rautha's darkness ruled with it. She wore two rings, on both ring fingers: an Atreides and a Harkonnen signet ring, in a fashion that it told the observer that she belonged to Paul first, Feyd-Rautha second.

There were fights about that in the past few days between her masters. Their greed about her couldn't cease.

Feyd-Rautha walked up to the pedestal that looked over the crowd at the end of the room. They've bypassed the galaxy's most influential people; men and women and couples who all wanted to be as close to glory as possible. The guards watched on the sides, looking for possible threats, while she couldn't even look away from where they were headed.

There were two thrones at the top of the stairs at the far back of the room, and one of them was occupied. Paul's blue within blue eyes were glued to her slim, elegant form. She could feel his power; his satisfaction and pride palpable as their eyes met. He seemed pleased to see that she had obeyed every order so far. Feyd-Rautha reached Paul's throne first.

"My Sun", he greeted Paul gruffly, and Paul's eyes finally shifted on his husband's face.

"My Moon", he replied in kind.

She noticed that the Emperors communicated with their hands, using their own sign system they've created for themselves. Brief, short hand movements represented the silent words between them. She couldn't know what they were talking about that way. Feyd-Rautha let her arm slip off of his as he moved to sit on his throne beside Paul's, who, in turn, looked back up in her eyes.

Paul chose his House's colours for that night, a well-tailored piece of green and yellow that was in harmony with his blue within blue eyes. The crimson Atreides hawk spread it's wings proudly just above his heart. She thought how thin he really was beneath all of those layers; he looked tired even now, as if this mingling had brought him nothing but nuisance.

"My Stars", he addressed her.

At first she didn't know what to respond. She swallowed; no rules were applied other than smile dumb, obey orders. Was there a wrong answer here? She couldn't say master, could she? If anyone heard her say that...

She could see from the corners of her eyes that Feyd-Rautha was smiling broadly when he recognised the reason of her distress. He thoroughly enjoyed tormenting her, and loved to see her squirm. Was this a test? Why did they do this to her?

She decided to bob a curtsy at first; a part of her relieved she could break eye contact with Paul. His eyes looked like they could see right into the depths of her very soul.

"Your Highness", she whispered, making Feyd-Rautha chuckle.

"She's a wonderfully well-behaved little pet, don't you think?"

He grumbled to Paul as quietly as he possibly could, but she was aware that if there was anyone in the room who could read from lips, they'd know what he said. She blushed a little.

"Wonderful indeed." Paul's voice sounded like he was wondering about something. She straightened back up, just as she was taught. "Sit, pet."

She glanced in Paul's eyes again, then furrowed her brows slightly when she confirmed her memory that no - there were no more chairs. Where should she sit? At their feet, on the ground, or in one of their laps? Feyd-Rautha grinned wider; his teeth, painted black, made his mouth look like a dark cave.

"She thinks she'd sit on a chair", he teased.

"Mm", Paul hummed, leaning back in his throne. "I have a much better spot for her tonight."

And he pat his lap.

She blushed deeper at the thought. This was new; he'd seen, touched, claimed all of her, yes. So did Feyd-Rautha. But those occasions were in their company alone. No one else knew what they were doing to her when they were in private. Nobody could know how they used her, abused her.

This room, though, was full of the most powerful men and women of the galaxy, all of them were there because of them. Her lips parted slightly when she saw that Paul's brows slowly, but surely, started to furrow. He did not like her hesitation; and while she knew what she could expect form Feyd-Rautha in a similar situation, she couldn't be sure what Paul would do. Perhaps nothing, not in front of the guests. But the guests wouldn't stay forever.

She made sure her dress was smoothed out before she sat in his lap. And when she did, she went slightly stiff.

"What's the matter, kitten?" Feyd-Rautha purred darkly when he noticed her reaction. "Found something hard down there?"

Paul chuckled softly as he rested his palm against her back.

"I have to apologise, angel", he murmured, reaching for her chin to hold it between his thumb and index finger, turning her head to look in her eyes. "You are far too perfect in this dress. Of course you're... forcing me in such a state." He pulled her down for a sweet, gentle kiss, and she slightly relaxed when she realised she wasn't in trouble. Paul hummed in her lips, then pulled away from her, and turned his head; his lips close to her ear, hidden from view. "Once this is over", Paul whispered, his breath hot against the shell of her ear, "I'm going to fuck you good and hard."

She had a hard time not to start shaking at this news. Goosebumps rose on her arms and back, and she stared forward, but couldn't see. Feyd-Rautha chuckled quietly beside them.

"And then, it will be my turn."

Feyd-Rautha motioned to one of the servants who brought a small tray of finger foods to him. Fruits cut into neat cubes with bite sized sandwiches. He picked up a fruit and offered it to her. She obediently opened her mouth and allowed him to place it on her tongue. After a few seconds, she properly chewed and swallowed it. For some reason, he liked to feed her with his hands. Those were the times when she liked him the most. When he seemingly took care of her. When he appeared like he... cared.

"Do you like it?" Feyd-Rautha's lips curled up as he watched her eat.

"Yes, Your Highness", she replied quietly.

She realised that this was done on a purpose. Ignoring the most influential figures in the room, focusing on one nameless slave they owned - others must've gathered the news about her already -, was an insult. She didn't know why the Emperors wanted to make the rest of the Great Houses angry, but now that she was aware that she was just a tool that night, it became easier to just roll with it. They had a plan, and she must be a part of it, whether she liked it or not.

"Curious", Paul hummed, motioning to another servant to bring a tray full of glasses over to them.

"What is?" Feyd-Rautha grumbled as he occupied himself eating a sandwich.

"Stay", Paul ordered the servant first with an edge in his voice which wasn't there when he spoke to his favourite pet who sat in his lap. He picked a glass off the tray. She could smell it it was something strong; definitely the type of beverage she hadn't had before. "How quiet they are. Not one of them dared to come over here to talk."

"After what we did", Feyd-Rautha hummed, "I'm surprised they came at all."

"Hmm." Paul seemed thoughtful for a moment before he moved the glass to her lips. "Drink, angel. You'll feel better."

She wanted to protest at first - nothing good came out of it if she drank alcohol. There were a few times when she had been pressured by her old slaveholder, because it was easier to force her into things she didn't want to do, and now those memories bubbled up in her mind. Still, fear of punishment was worse than fear of past experiments. She drank. It was a heavy and rich beverage that made her head spin as soon as she swallowed twice from it.

"I'm wondering if this is just a waste of time or is actually useful", Feyd-Rautha grumbled to himself as he finished the last of food on the tray.

"We need to get our point across", Paul muttered as he lowered the glass - and drank from it himself.

"I think we already did", Feyd-Rautha darkly chuckled. "Half of them already look like they want to kill us. The other half looks blissfully exasperated."

"Mm." Paul picked up a fruit himself and offered it to her. She accepted it, half smiling at him. Her head started to spin from the alcohol already. He smiled back at her, but he spoke to Feyd-Rautha. "Will they attempt it?"

"Killing us?" Feyd-Rautha took a second to size up the crowd again. "Bold. They wouldn't dare. Not so openly, at least."

"You see things as they are."

"Exactly", Feyd-Rautha huffed, "but I'm not the one who can see into the future."

Paul gently rubbed her back, offering her another piece of fruit, his lips stretching into a thin smirk at Feyd-Rautha's words.

"Do you agree that a speech is in order?"

"Certainly. Nobles love speeches."

"They won't like what I'll tell them."

"No", Feyd-Rautha agreed darkly, "but they will hear it, because it is in their best interest to do so."

"Come, angel", Paul nudged her gently, and she stood. "Sit here", he guided her to sit in Feyd-Rautha's lap in a way that she'd face him when he sat back on his throne.

"He really likes you", Feyd-Rautha whispered in her ear, his voice reverberating in her chest. "You're lucky he does, you know?"

"Yes, Your Highness", she mumbled back, the room slightly spinning.

"I like you, too", he growled in her ear, and she felt a different shiver run down her spine.

Feyd-Rautha's voice was dripping with danger. Where Paul often was gentle and soft, Feyd-Rautha was cold and demanding. He traced his fingertips up her spine; Paul started to speak to the crowd, but she couldn't concentrate; she felt like that paying attention to Feyd-Rautha was more important right now. She watched him lick his thick lips before he smiled up at her. She made a mental note once again that he was very handsome; if only his personality was different than how he behaved.

"That does not mean", Feyd-Rautha added huskily, "that I will not kill you."

He watched her from up close, taking in every reaction, satisfied with how she paled at his words. With a hum, he tickled her under her chin with his free hand. An unusually gentle touch from the Harkonnen.

"Don't worry, pet", he muttered, his voice deep and calm. "Not tonight."

He reached out for the glass Paul had left on his throne's armrest, and brought it to her lips. She didn't need an order to drink. Emptying the glass, she felt a little lightheaded, the alcohol was doing it's best in her system – easing her nerves. A part of her brain tuned in on Paul's voice – but she couldn't understand a word of what he said, it sounded distant, and she felt as light as a feather.

Feyd-Rautha motioned at the servant to bring them another glass. He sipped it, then hummed, before he moved one of her arms around his neck, to rest it on his shoulders. He was so close; she could smell the scent of his favourite cologne, an irresistible concoction of chemicals. She squirmed a little on his lap and glanced in his eyes, seeing that he had been watching her every move. She knew he was dangerous; he just threatened to kill her, he had hit her and took her countless times, and yet…

Oh God, she couldn't look away. If she could only… touch. Taste. She swallowed, and her throat was dry.

"Do you think there's something…" He paused for a moment, and glanced down in his glass. "…there's a little extra in our drink?" Feyd-Rautha murmured, so only she could hear. Then, he chuckled quietly. "I think there is." He leaned closer to her ear to hide his mouth from those who might've been watching. "It would be scandalous if I fucked you right here, right?"

"Very, Your Highness", she whispered back, but she pressed her thighs tightly together at the mere idea.

"I wouldn't even need to take your dress off, just… slide my hand under it, rip your panties off and order you to ride me."

She closed her eyes. Her face burned fiercely, and she moved one of her hands to place her fingertips against her lips. They felt slightly numb. Her fingers felt numb, too. Her entire body was tingling. He was right, there was something in the drink… besides alcohol.

"Please", she whispered.

"Please what?" Feyd-Rautha sounded entertained. "Do you want it? Should we do that, pet?"

Yes.

"Please no, Your Highness-"

"Mm, it always gets me hard when I hear you beg, you know?"

She knew. She could feel it. It was hard to look away from his face, his eyes were locked onto hers, and the more she stared, the more she got lost in the sensations. Tingling warmth bubbled up beneath her skin. She wanted to be touched.

"There", Paul muttered as he sat back down on his throne. "It's done."

"You were astonishingly rude", Feyd-Rautha almost purred as he glanced at Paul, his eyes sparkling with mischief. She blinked as the moment was interrupted; it seemed the Harkonnen could focus on two things at once: teasing her and paying attention to what Paul had said. She wasn't that good, it seemed. "They'll chew on this for months."

"Do you think they deserved better?"

"Hmm." Feyd-Rautha thought for a moment. He rubbed her back gently. "You know of my methods."

"Yes", Paul smiled at Feyd-Rautha, but that smile never reached his eyes. "But, unfortunately, we can't kill everyone we disagree with."

"Unfortunately", Feyd-Rautha echoed with a little smile.

"Mm-m."

They observed each other for a few seconds. She could see that Paul's lips curled up a bit more, mirroring Feyd-Rautha's almost gentle smile. It felt like they understood each other without words.

"I'd like to talk to someone, now", Feyd-Rautha announced. "Stand up, pet."

She stood at once. The room spun around a little violently, and she felt Feyd-Rautha's hand on her arm.

"Are you feeling alright, pet?"

The question sounded so surreal. She blinked up at him in utter confusion as the Harkonnen's eyes were searching her expression.

"Your pupils dilated", he noted. "You look disoriented." His dark eyes flickered down at Paul's face, who stared back at him without saying a word. Feyd-Rautha glanced back at her, his hairless brows furrowing slightly. "It'd be best if you sat here."

And he guided her to take a seat. On his own throne. She was speechless at that. Feyd-Rautha slipped his index finger under her chin, tilted her head back, took one good look at her, then he pulled his hand back, turned away and walked down the stairs into the crowd. She wasn't sure what to do, how to behave, so she leaned back in the throne and decided to just try and pay attention.

People's faces were guarded, but whenever they shot a look at her, she could feel a strange energy from them. A part of her realised that she was in danger, but she couldn't tell why or how. It was a feeling in her gut that did not want to cease, on the contrary, it got worse with each passing second.

Her eyes found Feyd-Rautha in the crowd; he was speaking to a beautiful woman and a man beside her. Feyd-Rautha showed his back to the throne, but she could see the faces of those he was speaking to. The woman paled rapidly as she listened to the Emperor, and her husband beside her wrapped an arm protectively around her.

"That is Lady Margot Fenring and Count Hasimir Fenring."

She heard Paul's voice beside her, and she shuddered when she realised she'd been caught looking. She quickly averted her gaze, and Paul chuckled quietly beside her.

"There's no reason to be afraid for getting caught, angel. Humans are naturally curious." She could feel him leaning closer, and he pressed a soft kiss to her temple. She blushed deeper when she realised anyone could see that. "When Feyd became of age, Lady Margot Fenring paid him a visit. She performed a Bene Gesserit test on him, after which she used the Voice to seduce him and force him into giving her his seed."

Paul paused, to let the words sink in. The girl looked mildly frightened when she looked back at him, and he reached for her hand to touch and hold as he continued with a small smile.

"She's due in a few months, and Feyd wants the child." Paul's fingers gently intertwined with hers, and he stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. "He wants his daughter, and rightfully so, after he'd been tricked."

She looked back at the pair and Feyd-Rautha, thoughts spinning in her mind. What sort of a father Feyd-Rautha could be? She swallowed at the thought, then shuddered.

"Have you ever thought of becoming a mother?"

She closed her eyes to escape the thought, but that made her even more dizzy. Swallowing, she shook her head a little. Paul observed her, the way he always did: taking in every little twitch and clue, making sure to pinpoint the reasons behind her reaction, trying to predict her opinion.

"I am well aware that is something that most slaves want to escape", Paul hummed, mainly to himself. "Isn't it? To bear a child of men like us…"

His voice trailed off, and she slightly panicked. Was this defiance on her part? Could it be interpreted thus? She didn't want to sound like she would not want to please him. Nothing good ever came out of that.

"If… if that's what you want", she mumbled, making him raise a brow and observe her body language again.

"…if that's what I want?"

Her lashes fluttered as she was looking back at him. Out of her two masters, she wanted to please Paul more; even if not pleasing Feyd-Rautha meant a great deal of pain. And she did not lie to him when he asked her whether she was afraid of him; she was telling the truth when she said he was terrifying, but at the same time, she wanted to be good for him. She wanted to make him happy – if that was even possible. In the past few weeks, his eyes had grown darker, his behaviour more sinister, and seeing his confusing, horrible dreams of the future and past – or his deeds in the past few weeks –, she even knew the reason why, now.

So if Paul was asking if she ever thought of becoming a mother, for him… perhaps he had been wanting that. And it would save her from Feyd-Rautha's abuse for a couple of months. If she was pregnant with his child, Paul would surely protect her. From that point of view, she suddenly wanted to give an heir to Paul. Her expression shifted from the uncertain hesitation to an almost bold compliance.

"Yes", she nodded a little. "If that's what you want."

Paul stared at her with an unreadable expression. There were too much alcohol – and extra – in her system to understand what he was telling her with his face. He looked so painfully beautiful, so pretty, even with his tired, calculating eyes. She leaned just a little closer, and his eyes flickered to her lips before he glanced back in her eyes. She knew he wanted to kiss her, and this time, she wanted him to kiss her.

"Let's go", Feyd-Rautha's voice snapped her out of her trance. She could feel his hand on her arm, pullling her up to stand. Since her fingers were wrapped around Paul's hand, she inevitably pulled him up on his feet as well. "I've had enough of this."

"How rude of you, husband of mine", Paul clicked with his tongue, his voice laced with disapproval, "leaving our guests behind."

"I have better things to attend to", Feyd-Rautha glanced back and behind his shoulder, looking straight in her eyes, then in Paul's, as he pulled them, leading them down the stairs.

"Of course you do."

Paul squeezed her hand, and she glanced up at him. He didn't even try to hide the desire in his eyes as he glanced back down at her, and excitement coiled in the pit of her gut, remembering Paul's promise from earlier.

She couldn't recognise the room Feyd-Rautha led them in, but it was quite close to the throne room. The crowd of people were reduced to a blur, she could only focus once they were inside the room. One single glowglobe in one corner gave little light, but she paid it no mind; the second they were in, Paul claimed her lips for himself. She moaned in his mouth as four hands were busy undressing her and themselves, expensive ceremonial garb forgotten and dropped on the floor, along with her tiara. Feyd-Rautha's mouth found her neck and sucked, making her shudder in their hands. A pair of hands were busy groping her breasts as someone else's hand already found the wetness between her legs. Paul moaned in her mouth, this time, and she echoed it as two fingers penetrated her. She cupped his face and ran her fingers in his hair like a desperate lover.

"The bed", Feyd-Rautha growled behind her, pushing both her and Paul over to the bed behind him.

"Feyd, she's so, so wet-"

Another pair of fingers found their way into her cunt, making her whimper as she sought Paul's lips again. He kissed back almost feverishly, goosebumps raising on his arms as her fingers teased his scalp.

"What was in that champagne?" Feyd-Rautha's voice sounded off and she realised he could barely keep himself back as he thrusted his fingers in and out of her, in complete sync with how Paul moved his hand.

"Spice", Paul panted under her. "It was spice."

His motions were impatient as he pulled his fingers out and gripped her hips with both hands to position her above himself.

"Fuckin' spice, your addiction is starting to get out of hand", Feyd-Rautha gruffly complained behind her.

"It's not addiction", Paul argued softly, "it's necessary to see the future clearly. I must keep us safe."

"What do you see now?" Feyd-Rautha's voice was almost mocking.

"Do you really need me to paint an image for you? Now?"

The bite in Paul's voice was evident, and she really did not want to be between them if they started to argue, but her body felt so hot, so tingly, and she was so aroused that she complied with every move of Paul's hands on her hips.

"Oh no", Feyd-Rautha gripped her hips with Paul's hands still on them, preventing him from pulling her down on his length. "No, my turn first."

"I've been waiting for this all evening", Paul complained, his fingers twitching on her hips.

"Hah!" Feyd-Rautha laughed darkly, pulling her backwards. She whined a wordless complaint. At this moment, she wouldn't even care who'd penetrate her, she just wanted it done as soon as possible. She needed the friction so much that tears prickled the corners of her eyes. She was pliable in Feyd-Rautha's hands as well, as her little palms still rested on Paul's chest. "You just wait some more, she's mine."

"Let her go!"

She froze with Feyd-Rautha the second the forceful words left Paul under her; it sounded like a thousand other people spoke with him at the same time, and it was a command no one could disobey. She started to tremble as Feyd-Rautha's hands flew off her body in an instant, as if he touched hot coal, and she pulled back with him in fear of Paul's obvious show of power. Paul looked up at her face, acknowledged the terror written in her eyes, then he cursed and threw his head back down on the bed.

For a few seconds, they said nothing. She pulled herself away from the two of them and sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her legs. Feyd-Rautha's pale face looked even paler than usual as he was shaking his head from time to time; as if he couldn't even imagine this could happen.

"You promised you wouldn't use the Voice on me."

This time, there was no malice in his voice, just caution and disappointment. Paul closed his eyes for a moment, then he sighed and sat up, searching Feyd-Rautha's face.

"I'm sorry."

"You promised."

"I lost control for a moment", Paul confirmed, his voice sounding almost desperate, "it won't happen again."

"Is this another promise you won't be able to keep?"

"Hey…" Paul pulled closer to Feyd-Rautha, who did not move at all. "I did not mean to use it to hurt you. I'd never use it to hurt you. You know that, right?"

Important seconds ticked away. She was staring at the two of them, the way Feyd-Rautha was observing Paul who touched his face. The Harkonnen said nothing at first, but at least, he didn't flinch away from Paul's touch.

"Never", Feyd-Rautha echoed quietly, "never take control from me."

"Never", Paul whispered, planting a kiss on Feyd-Rautha's cheek.

"I don't want to feel like that", Feyd-Rautha murmured. "Never again."

"I know." Paul softly kissed his lips, this time. "I know. I'm sorry."

As Feyd-Rautha kissed him back, she watched them in silence. The way they moved with precision, hands on each other's bodies, knowing exactly how and where to touch the other. They knew each other well, it was visible; and while a part of her wanted to join in, a bigger part of her wanted to leave them to whatever they wanted to do with each other. But the sight of Feyd-Rautha gripping and groping Paul who visibly went weak in his hands almost paralyzed her. She'd never felt so aroused before, and it became worse when Feyd-Rautha moved Paul, turning him away from himself, stating it without words what he wanted to do.

"Be gentle", Paul whispered.

"After you've broken your promise, you're asking me to be gentle?"

Paul's eyes met with hers, and she could see a flicker of fear dance across his blue within blue eyes. She realised that she did not want him to suffer, she did not want to see him in pain.

"Please", Paul breathed out, closing his eyes as he gripped the bedding under himself.

"You wouldn't deserve it", Feyd-Rautha growled behind him.

He gripped Paul's hair and pulled his head backwards in an almost gentle motion, and she could see the exact moment when Feyd-Rautha penetrated him. Paul's muscles tensed, he gritted his teeth and bit back a groan of pain. Even like this, he was beautiful. She couldn't look away from his face as he pleadingly glanced back at his husband who scoffed. Despite his words from earlier, Feyd-Rautha did not start to move right away. He could be… gentle. For Paul, and for Paul only. It was written across his face that he was fighting his urges.

"If you look at me like this, I won't be able to hold myself back."

"Feyd", Paul gasped, pushing himself back against him.

"You don't even want me to be gentle!" Feyd-Rautha scolded, gripping Paul's hip with his free hand to keep him steady. "It hurts, doesn't it? But you want more already."

"Please move-"

"Fucking spice…"

Their soft, needy moans filled the room mere seconds later, and she watched them move in sync, noticing that the ordeal visibly rendered Paul thoughtless. She could imagine that was his plan all along. In his mind, there were countless of possible futures and pasts intertwined, and he often couldn't relax. Now, the sensations were enough to allow him to be in the present moment. He was right there. She knew he was right there, when he turned his head, lips parted, his blue within blue eyes meeting hers.

"Come", he whispered, his muscles pulled tight as his pleasure built. She reluctantly crawled over to Paul who cupped her face with one of his hands. His breath was hot against her lips. "I need you, too." He felt desperate when he kissed her. When he pulled a little away from her, all she saw in his eyes was lust. "I need you both…"

"Insatiable", Feyd-Rautha scolded him, but both him and her knew they'd do everything they could to satisfy him.

At the end of the day, they were in his hands. Their futures were secure while Paul made sure nothing could harm them. But in the depths of their minds, there was something more. Feyd-Rautha could see it on her face, he could feel it in his own chest. They participated in every little game Paul staged, willingly. He neither knew nor understood what love was, all he felt was obsession. Obsessed with watching the both of them coming undone, obsessed hurting her until neither of them could tolerate it anymore, obsessed with Paul's gentleness – gentleness he could never allow himself to provide. Paul was his better half who could mend his darkness into something useful while they satisfied each other's needs. They were balance itself.

Feyd-Rautha did not realise Paul guided her under himself until the rhythm changed, and he was rendered motionless. He did not need to thrust, because Paul was thrusting already – very similar to their last time when she was bound on the pillory, but it was different now. He could see her cup Paul's face, whimpering with pleasure at every thrust, her eyes glazed over with ecstasy and something he could not define. She'd never looked at him like that, but he imagined she did, and it brought him so close to his peak. He pushed deeper into Paul who moaned in return, his hand reaching back to seek purchase for Feyd-Rautha, finding his neck, his fingers reaching for the back of it. Feyd-Rautha leaned forward, holding Paul up as he could feel that his thighs were trembling, bringing him closer and closer to the edge, then keeping him there as he bit into the side of his neck. The alcohol and spice in their systems built up the most powerful orgasm they've ever experienced, and it crashed down on all three of them at the same time.

It took them minutes to recover. Feyd-Rautha decided to pull a bit away from them and lay just a few inches away from her and Paul, but Paul remained where he landed when they were done. He rested his head on the middle of her chest and listened to her heartbeat while he was watching Feyd-Rautha; he listened the way her pulse slowed to a normal rhythm with his own. She still had one of her hands tangled in his hair, but her eyes were closed.

Feyd-Rautha watched them in silence. Eventually, she fell asleep. Paul waited until Feyd-Rautha noticed that her eyes moved under her closed eyelids, only then Paul began to speak; not in his normal voice, but with the Voice, planting words and phrases and plans in the depths of her mind. Feyd-Rautha's hairless brows twitched when Paul was finished.

"Is this absolutely necessary?" He asked in his husky voice, as quietly as he could.

Paul looked utterly exhausted. That evening took too much out of him, he could feel it. Not in his body; physical tiredness was welcome, but his mind… the possibilities were endless, and he was always searching all space and time to somehow prevent… to stop… to protect…

"That's all I can do for her", Paul whispered, and his throat tightened. "I will not lose her."

Feyd-Rautha wasn't stupid enough to ask whether Paul loved her or not; he was full aware that the one he loved was long gone. Slaughtered by a Sardaukar on that fateful day when he met him. Feyd-Rautha sighed, then slowly turned towards them, bringing the sheet with himself to cover all three of them.

Paul closed his eyes as well, and he drifted off within a few minutes. Feyd-Rautha watched him; the way his expression smoothed out, how the angry looking brows relaxed. He waited for a few minutes before he closed his eyes himself, but soon again, his eyes were open when he heard Paul whimper in his sleep.

Whenever they shared a bed, Paul couldn't sleep. Not for long. The nightmares and the visions would enter his mind as soon as he was out. Feyd-Rautha had witnessed this one too many times, and he was ready to get up and leave the room. He wanted to get some quality sleep once. Just once.

"Shh, it's okay."

Feyd-Rautha paused when he heard her voice. She was soothing Paul now, stroking his head, running her fingers in his hair. She couldn't know Feyd-Rautha was awake, her head was turned in the other direction. Paul did not wake up, but his face was scrunched up in silent disagreement. She moved her fingertips to his temple and rested them there.

"We are safe", she whispered as she rested her lips on top of Paul's head, allowing her mind to absorb everything that troubled him. "You are safe, Paul."

Just a few seconds, and Paul's face smoothed out again. Feyd-Rautha almost couldn't believe it, but… Paul had no nightmares that night.

Chapter Text

She was standing in front of a window.

Rare were the times when she was allowed to wear clothes, and even more rare when she was allowed to roam free in the fortress. Arrakeen was vast, it had many staircases, rooms and even more corridors. Since Feyd-Rautha and Paul had to be at a war counsel, she was allowed to do as she wished – after Paul dressed her in a dark green gown with a golden Atreides hawk over her heart, much to Feyd-Rautha's dismay.

So now, she stood in front of the window and stared at the dunes beyond the city.

Memories that did not belong to her flashed in her mind's eye. Fremen using thumpers to summon the sandworms, hooks in hand to ride them. The dunes that looked beautiful when the sun was setting. The face of a girl, her eyes completely blue. A blade. Between her ribs. The girl betrayed and stabbed her with the blade. A tooth of Shai-Hulud.

The scenery changed and she was on a planet that had vast seas and oceans. A castle, sitting on top of the rocks. It was raining so hard and thundering so loud that she could feel it within her bones. An old woman came, dressed in black, her face barely visible, ordering her to put her hand in a small box, and when she did, the old hag threatened her that she'd stab her neck with a poisoned needle if she removed her hand from the box. She felt like her hand was burnt to crisp but she did not, could not move. She didn't want to die. She whimpered and struggled, but she had Paul's voice, not her own. Her hand burnt. Fire! Her hand was burning. Her hand. Fire! Burning fire!

She raised her right hand and stared at it, then balled her fingers in a fist.

Her eyes found the Atreides signet ring. The signet ring. The perfect replica of Paul's signet ring. Leto Atreides showing her the signet ring on his own hand. They're standing in the family cemetery out in the open on Caladan; there's grass, it's cold, there's fog and her father is speaking to her.

"Your grandfather said, "A great man doesn't seek to lead. He's called to it, and he answers." And if your answer is no... you'll still be the only thing I ever needed you to be. My son. I found my own way to it. Maybe you'll find yours."

The scenery changed again. Hundreds, if not thousands of Fremen, gathered in a room. Her vocal cords hurt from the exertion as she yelled to them in Chakobsa. She couldn't understand it when Paul spoke it with others, but through his memory, she understood every single word.

"The Hand of God be my witness, I am the Voice from the Outer World! And I will lead you to Paradise!"

She touched her lips and cleared her throat. Spice. She had spice in her nose, in her lungs. There were ripples in the sand beneath her hands, she was on her hands and knees. Someone was pulling on her arm, but it was too late.

It was too late. She was falling. She was falling, and no one would catch her.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. She couldn't allow the memories, the nightmares, the visions of pasts and futures that happened, will happen or didn't and won't happen to swallow her like a gigantic Shai-Hulud. She couldn't allow anything to consume her; she knew that if she wandered too far, if she let control out of her hands, she'd lose herself. She'd lose her mind. It was maddening! Everything he knew – it was too much for her! Too much! Too late…

She was searching for a memory she'd absorbed from Paul, trying to find and salvage a technique to calm herself down. If he had to live with these memories, these visions, he had to have a method to keep himself calm. How could anyone keep their sanity, if they saw through time and space? And it seemed as if the memories had a consciousness; it seemed the memories wanted to… help her? She could… hear his voice in her mind, as if he was speaking to her through earpieces. His voice was crystal clear, even if it was quiet.

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer." Every syllable helped her to breathe deep and acknowledge her own body. Paul sounded calm, collected; as if he was just trying to calm her down, and that was exactly what she needed. "Fear is the little-death that brings obliteration. I will face my fear and I will permit it to pass over me and through me." Her tense muscles slowly relaxed. "And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path." She closed her eyes and saw his face – crystal clear. As if she could touch him if she reached out with her hand… "Where the fear has gone, there will be nothing. Only I will remain."

Only I will remain.

Only I will… remain…

Only… I will… remain…

It felt so lonely to be Paul Atreides. So lonely. He stood alone in the universe as a god-like being and nobody understood him. He was one of his kind. She could hear the last words echo in the depths of her consciousness, his voice but a whisper, full of sorrow. Only I will remain. Her eyes filled with tears.

She opened her eyes and she realised she wasn't alone. At the door, a servant stood, staring at her as if she was an intruder. And she was right. The servant didn't look Fremen, while she also was from a different planet and served different masters before her current ones.

"Come with me", the servant told her.

She furrowed her brows. She was allowed to go wherever she pleased today, and she did not take orders from anyone except her masters. Feyd-Rautha was very stern about that rule.

"Where?"

Her voice was cautious, and she did not move. The servant turned to look at her, her face was a mask of annoyance and anger.

"Feyd-Rautha summoned you. I am to lead you to him."

The words made her stomach clench. She knew what that meant. More pain. But even pain was welcomed by her after what she just experienced. Pain was manageable. She could keep it contained, she could deal with it, she had learned to do it ever since she was a child. She almost… gladly welcomed something she knew. She followed the servant in silence.

They walked down the corridors together, but she was leading her to a section she did not recognise. She didn't argue, though, not even as they started to walk down some stairs that led to darkness; she was too preoccupied with her recent experiences.

"I didn't think you'd be so naïve", the servant mocked. "You're making this far too easy."

She half turned to look at the woman, but the servant merely pushed her down the stairs. Her voice was stuck in her throat as impact after impact after impact hit her body. She could feel some ribs crack, her left ankle twist, her right wrist break. Old memories bubbled up in her mind as she landed on the floor at the bottom of the stairs at last. Her old slaveholder had beaten her worse than this once.

The servant slowly walked down the stairs and she instinctively closed her eyes and held her breath back, even if it hurt. It hurt. God, it hurt! It hurt so much.

"Endure the pain", she could hear his voice again. Was she wrong? Did she go insane? "Focus on my voice." She could see him again behind her closed eyelids. Only his pale, handsome face visible in the dark, his blue within blue eyes serious. "You need to survive this. You need to pretend you're dead. I will come, and I will find you. But you need to pretend you're not alive, or she won't stop until you're really dead."

The servant took her time. Her nerves were on fire, her lungs ached to breathe, but she was as motionless as possible. She focused on the throbbing pains all over her body to remain in the present moment. Finally, the woman walked back up the stairs, and she could take a shaky, painful breath. Her vision of him was gone. She slowly sat up, took a look at her broken arm, cradled it with her other hand, holding it against her chest, but that wasn't the worst. Her twisted ankle. That was the worst. She wouldn't be able to walk up the stairs with that, she must find another way.

She sobbed in the dark. She didn't even know where she was. With her ribs broken, she couldn't even take a deep breath to scream. If night found her here… when would her masters look for her? What if they did not want to see her tonight? Right now, that was her worst nightmare.

After a few minutes of sitting there and trying to deal with the pain in her body, she realised she couldn't stay there. Even if the stairs looked impossible to climb, she knew she must do it somehow.

I can do this, she urged herself, I can do this. I've been through worse. I just need to find them…

Perhaps if she remained on her hands and knees… that could work. Slowly, but surely, she started to climb up the stairs. She couldn't use her broken right hand of course, and she had to be slow because she couldn't pant due to her broken ribs, but she managed. After an eternity of climbing, she reached the top.

Slowly, she worked herself up to stand. A little bit dizzy from all the stress, she sighed a little sigh of relief, mindful of her ribs that hurt like hell. Her ankle already swelled, and so did her right hand. She glanced down on it; the skin was a deep red already where the bone was broken, and she didn't dare to move it at all.

Walking wasn't easy. She hopped over to the other side of the wall so she could rely on it with her left hand to avoid putting pressure on her left ankle. She used her hand for support instead of her left foot which she kept behind herself in the air, and used her right foot to hop forward a bit. She tried to follow the trail back to the room where she was left by Paul.

The day was always was hot on Arrakeen, but she could feel the temperature drop with every passing second. Night was approaching, and if she couldn't walk faster than this, she'd be in even deeper trouble. She had absolutely no idea how would she be able to explain what had happened to her. She didn't know why the servant wanted to hurt her – although after that display in the throne room where the Emperors clearly stated that she had the highest status when it came to servants and slaves, it seemed to be enough of a reason. But she never hurt anybody, on the contrary; she was the shield that protected the others from Feyd-Rautha.

Now, may the God have mercy on that servant's soul, because if he interrogated her and she broke under the pressure and told him who had done this… well, she wouldn't want to be in the servant's place.

She didn't feel any malice or anger, or anything, for that matter; even if it should've been rightful for her to do so. All she had in her mind was that she wanted her pains gone, her injuries treated. Perhaps a bed to lie in and be left alone with her misery. There was a high chance she wouldn't be left alone for a while after this, and as she paused in the corridor to have a breather, she also suspected Feyd-Rautha would go on a rampage.

In the past few weeks she could keep him relatively calm. She did not always enjoy the pain he put her through, but there were times when his impact play had an interesting effect on her body. He also knew how to touch her to bring her to her peak the fastest way possible, and he knew exactly how to claim her to make her shake and tremble for more. She smiled a little to herself now, remembering how he teased her for begging, only to provide more and more until he was utterly spent.

Oh, he would be livid. Hurting her was his privilige, and no one else's.

A wandering glowglobe had found her. It stopped just behind her as the dusk settled in, and followed her whenever she took a shaky step. She felt like she was running out of time, and rapidly. A part of her was aware that if she met the wrong person, it could be her last moment.

Footsteps. Quiet, almost silent, but footsteps. She stopped, frozen in fear, near a corner from where the noises came from. She forgot how to pray to God years ago, because if there was a God, He never listened anyway, but now, she found herself praying to whatever powers were listening. In her mind, the presence stirred at her panic again. If God did not help… he would.

"Ready yourself", a voice whispered in Paul's tone. "Steady." With only one good hand, imbalanced, she was utterly helpless, and she knew it. How could she ready herself for anything? "When the time comes, you will use the Voice", Paul whispered, "I will protect you. Be ready."

She felt nothing but confusion. Use the Voice? She didn't know how to do that. She wasn't trained to… she couldn't-

The presence within built itself, it became stronger, bolder, slowly but surely wrestling control from her. She could almost feel… how it forced itself to the surface. She fought it. Pain shot from her hand as she balled her fingers up into a fist. She silently ignored it; she was too focused on her task.

"Don't fight me", Paul almost purred, "I'm helping you. I'm keeping you safe."

"No", she whimpered.

This was wrong. This was wrong. This was wrong.

The footsteps stopped as soon as the other person reached the corridor, and she sobbed in relief. The presence faded instantly from her mind; as if it knew that it would not be needed.

"Stilgar", she whined softly.

The Fremen warrior sized her up, noticed her injuries and the state of her overall physique. He had his stillsuit on, as always, the filt-plugs had left permanent marks on his face from having them in all the time. She had met him a few times and she knew that Paul trusted him – which meant that she could trust him as well.

"What happened?" He questioned gruffly, his accent heavy as always.

"I fell off the stairs."

Why did she lie? Why was it hard to lie?

"Muad'Dib wants to see you. He's been waiting for over an hour by now, and let me be honest… he's not happy", he clicked his tongue and offered her his arm, which she relied on gladly with her left hand. "I'll bring you to him."

"I'm sorry", she offered, trying to walk properly beside the Fremen. "It's… difficult to walk… my ankle…"

Stilgar realised quite quickly that walking would take forever like this, and he stopped a moment later. Without warning, he scooped her up in his arms – she hissed at the pain in her ribs –, and began walking with her back to the parts of the fortress she recognised.

"I'm sorry", she mumbled again.

"You should not wander so far away from him", she could hear in his voice that he was scolding her. "He's worried when you're not around. Since he lost Chani, he hasn't been the same, and you seem to be important to him. Everyone can see. Don't give him a reason to lose control."

Chani. The girl who died on the day when she kissed Paul's ring and she became their slave. When she barely escaped death, just because Paul chose her to stay alive. She still didn't have any idea, why.

Stilgar located Paul's chambers and entered it without asking for permission. Paul was visibly anxious, he was caught pacing to the other side of the room, but he froze the moment he saw Stilgar with her in his arms.

"Where were you?!"

She flinched as Stilgar placed her down on his bed, but it wasn't the pain in her body that made her react this way. It was Paul's voice, directed at her, his tone laced with worry and anger. She looked up at him like a chastised puppy, holding her broken hand to her chest with her left hand. He looked like he was seconds away from shouting at her.

"I found her near the dungeons", Stilgar interrupted firmly, promptly stopping the storm that built itself rapidly within Paul, "she said she fell off the stairs. By the look of it, she broke a few bones."

That made Paul's expression change, and his eyes sized her up again, his gaze settling on her broken wrist, on her sprained ankle. She wanted to hide. She wished the ground would swallow her whole.

He knew.

"She said she fell off the stairs", Paul echoed, eerily quiet. It made her insides twist with anxiety, and she feared everything was written on her face. "Thank you, Stilgar. Please, get us a doctor. Now."

Stilgar said nothing as he walked out the door, leaving them alone. She couldn't look at him, in fear that she'd admit even without words that she had been lying, that she had been assaulted, hurt, that one of the servants wanted to kill her. She was forbidden to lie to her masters, and she just did. But whenever she imagined his rage over those details, she couldn't bring herself to admit it. Him and Feyd-Rautha would rip that woman apart, and she did not wish that on anyone. If falling down the stairs hurt… how would it feel to be methodically tortured to death?

"You're lying."

That was all Paul said in his gentlest, softest tone. She observed the fascinating pattern of the dark green rug beneath her one good foot because it was easier to avoid his eyes than to look back in them and admit that he was right. He slowly stepped closer to the bed, causing her breath hitch in her chest, making her ribs hurt a thousand times more. Tears stung her eyes. She pressed her lips together.

"I did not see this coming." Paul paused, and she remained silent. "Who did it?"

It wasn't even a question that she'd been attacked, he could figure it out himself. Paul crouched in front of her, inevitably appearing in her line of view, but she lowered her eyes even more, her gaze landing in her lap.

"You know I don't need your compliance to get what I want." Paul did not raise his voice this time. He still sounded eerily calm and gentle, but the threat behind his words was evident. "You are mine." She shuddered, and he reached out to slip his index finger under her chin as the tears escaped her eyes. Paul forced her head up, silently ordering her to look back in his eyes. She did. And she lost. "Don't lie to me, pet. Don't make this harder for yourself. Don't make this harder for me." When she did not reply, his brows ever so slightly twitched. "Don't make me use the Voice on you."

She realised she had no choice. It was inevitable. The servant's future, too. She could do nothing.

"She said Feyd-Rautha wanted to see me", she mumbled, defeated. Paul moved his hand and cupped her cheek with his hand, the motion gentle, supportive, appreciative. "I followed her. She said I was naïve and that I was making it too easy, then she just pushed me down a set of stairs. I couldn't… I couldn't protect myself, it happened so suddenly. She walked down the stairs to see if I survived, but I pretended I didn't. I'm… I'm sorry."

"Would you recognise her?" Paul pulled closer, his blue within blue eyes a well of ill intent.

"Please, don't-"

He looked momentarily surprised, he tilted his head to the right, then to the left, then furrowed his brows.

"I don't think you understand the situation, angel."

When she did not reply, he rubbed her cheek with his hand. His thumb was rough from training with the sword so often, but it still felt nice.

"I just… don't want you to hurt her."

"After she'd done this to you?"

Her eyes searched his for a few seconds.

"Yes."

"I will not hurt her."

She understood what he was saying, and she did not like it.

"Feyd-Rautha will", she whispered, and the glint in his eyes confirmed her suspicions.

"I need you to show her to me. I need to know where she came from, who sent her."

"Master-"

"We knew we have traitors among us", Paul continued as if he didn't hear her protest, "and we knew they'd try to hit us where we would least expect it. But to be so bold to lay a hand on you…" He pushed himself up on his knees and rested his forehead against hers. "Nobody takes you away from me. Ever. And if they try…"

The door opened and revealed the doctor, then Stilgar and Feyd-Rautha. The latter looked, predictably, furious. Paul pulled away from her and stood to calm his angry husband. This time, he used a guttural language that sounded strange coming from him. Feyd-Rautha responded in the same language, his voice even deeper and more aggressive than usual.

She couldn't pay attention to them as the doctor started to observe her wrist and ankle. He glanced up at her with a worried look. He glanced up at the other men, but he saw that he had no choice telling anything to the Emperors at the moment, so he settled on Stilgar.

"I need to bring her to the medical station. I have to see what we're dealing with."

Stilgar glanced at Paul who was actively trying to keep Feyd-Rautha as calm as possible. He could see that it did not go well, even if he heard words he couldn't understand.

"You said you could keep her safe !"

"I did not see this coming-"

"Why do you use the spice so often, then, if you can not see the future clearly?!"

"The visions are not always clear, some things, which are not determined yet, can not be seen-"

"Then what good are you?!"

Paul stared at Feyd-Rautha, his shoulders lowering in defeat. The Harkonnen regretted asking this the moment he finished the question.

"I'm not good for anything", Paul admitted quietly. "I'm not… good enough."

Feyd-Rautha shot him a deadly look. He was panting from holding his rage back, but Paul's reaction momentarily paused him. He paced a few steps away from Paul, then back in front of him. Like an animal in a cage. He hated to see Paul like this. Hated it.

"I didn't say you're not good enough", he replied quietly. His face twitched before he walked up to Paul and cupped his face. The motion was uncharacteristically gentle. Then, he used galach, so others in the room could understand what he was saying. "She's not dead. Right? She's alive. And she's relatively alright."

"Just barely." Paul did not move an inch. "She had to pretend she's dead. Her attacker wanted her dead."

Feyd-Rautha sighed deeply before he pressed a kiss to Paul's forehead as he promised himself that he'd take apart that servant, limb by limb. Then, he pulled away from him to look down at her and the doctor.

"Let's go to the medical station, then", he growled, confirming again that he could pay attention to two conversations at the same time, "I want to see the damage."

He walked closer to the bed and she tensed up.

"Please", she touched his hand when he reached for her, making him furrow his hairless brows. "Please, be gentle… my ribs…"

"Your ribs?" She could see that he pressed his teeth together so hard that the muscles protruded on his cheeks. "You broke your ribs?"

"I think…"

"You need to learn how to fall properly, pet", he grunted in her ear as he lifted her up. To her utter surprise, he caused minimal pain with that. Feyd-Rautha smiled a bit when he felt her rest her head on his chest. She felt safe there. "Maybe we'll practice it."

"Stop joking about such things", Paul followed close and complained behind him, making Feyd-Rautha chuckle quietly.

At the medical station, the doctor and the Emperors remained with her. At first, the doctor wanted them to go out to give her privacy, but then the man saw the look on their faces, and decided against it. Clearing his throat, he tuned his machines, then he kept talking to the men about what he was doing, confirming the broken wrist and ribs and the sprained ankle for them. Other than those, she'd have just a few bruises.

"I'll set her ankle right first", the doctor announced, but Feyd-Rautha's growl stopped him.

"No, I'll do it."

The doctor didn't dare to object. Perhaps if Paul said he wanted to do it, he would've said that it'd be best if a doctor was doing it, but he thought it'd be in his best interest if he did not challenge Feyd-Rautha in his current state of mind. Paul silently made his way to her, reaching for her left hand to hold. Feyd-Rautha observed the image of how her ankle deformed on the screen, and ever so gently placed his hand under her leg with his left hand, while his right softly gripped her heel. He could feel her tremble in his hands.

"This is going to hurt", Paul murmured above her, and she stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry… I should've been more careful. This is all my fault…"

"On three", Feyd-Rautha announced quietly, and his fingers held her tighter. She was already panting despite her broken ribs, her eyes were full of tears as they met Feyd-Rautha's, and she held onto Paul's hand as if it was her only chance for survival. "One", Paul moved closer, crouched beside the stretcher and held her close. "Two", as Feyd-Rautha watched them, he couldn't feel anything but rage. The usual feelings of arousal and excitement that he was about to hurt her were completely missing. Seeing her so afraid made him hate himself. In that moment, he loathed causing her pain; which made him realise that the sooner he was done with this, the better. "Three!"

With one swift motion, Feyd-Rautha popped her bones back into place. She muffled her scream in Paul's chest, but it was still agonizing for them to hear it. Paul held her tightly, soothing her with words and gentle touches; he was running his hand in her hair over and over again as Feyd-Rautha stepped aside, motioning to the doctor to secure her ankle. He walked over to Paul with a grim look on his face, and rested his palm on the other's shoulder.

"What if your plan goes wrong?"

The language of the Harkonnens rolled off his lips effortlessly. Paul turned his head slightly, then looked up at Feyd-Rautha. He had dark circles under his eyes from all the worrying. There were no signs of the good night's sleep he was gifted when he spent every second of his day planning and double checking every plan of his.

"If she dies", Paul murmured, resting his chin on the top of her head, "you can kill me."

Feyd-Rautha looked indecisive about the answer.

"What good would it do?"

Paul remained silent as he listened to her sniffs and soft sobs that slowly started to ebb.

"I couldn't protect Chani", he murmured, "and I want to execute my plan and get her back safely. She's my future. Our future." He furrowed his brows slightly, then glanced up at Feyd-Rautha. "Why continue living when there's no future?"

"You've been using too much spice lately."

"Maybe."

"There's more to life than that", Feyd-Rautha tilted his head, then nudged Paul's arm to urge him to stand. When he did, Feyd-Rautha rested his hands on Paul's shoulders, searching his eyes. "We can still find a suitable-"

"No, it has to be her", Paul shook his head. "It wouldn't work with anyone else. She's our only chance, and we're running out of time."

"Is she ready for what is coming?"

Paul half turned to look down at her. She was lying on her back and looked up at them as if she could… understand… what they were talking about? No. But she was aware they were talking about her.

"No", Paul murmured quietly. "Neither I am. Neither are you." He looked back up in Feyd-Rautha's eyes. "But we must do this. We must go with the flow of Time. If we resist it, it could be disastrous. The things I've seen…" Feyd-Rautha could see that Paul's mind wandered away, even as he was looking in his eyes. "We have to be prepared." Paul whispered. "For the sake of all of us."

Once the doctor was finished and gave her a good, big dose of painkillers, Feyd-Rautha brought her back to Paul's quarters for the night. They did not speak another word, and they were not in the mood for anything else other than sleeping. Feyd-Rautha observed the two of them as they moved in sync; when Paul shifted, she shifted with him. A part of him realised that they must've formed a bond he'd never have with another. The thought of loneliness had been kept far away from his mind, but now, he felt blatantly left out, and it was not a good feeling after all that happened.

He was lying on his back again. She was just beside him, showing him her back, turned towards Paul, her one good hand tangled in his hair as he held her in his arms and slept peacefully. Nothing stirred within Feyd-Rautha when he could detect her warmth, so near to his body. The memories of her reaction when he set her ankle right left him incredibly restless. There was a good chunk of him that could not rest; the helpless anger he felt at the sight of her broken body sent him into a thought loop he couldn't escape. A part of him wanted to get up and go out and train with his swords, just to let some of the tension out, but then… a small hand touched his.

For a moment, he hesitated, then he turned his head to look at her in the darkness of the room. Feyd-Rautha didn't say a word, just stared at her in silence. She looked indecisive, almost afraid, before the emotion shifted slightly. She pulled his hand towards her. Feyd-Rautha growled. She paused a little before she pulled on his fingers again.

"What?"

His voice was so quiet she almost couldn't hear it. She did not reply, just pulled on his hand gently again. He turned on his side and as he rolled towards her, she pulled and wrapped his arm around both her and Paul. He could see her smile as she turned her head back, facing away from him; but moving in a way that he could feel her back against his chest.

"Safer", she murmured sleepily, then she moved her hand back in Paul's hair and promptly fell asleep.

Safer, Feyd-Rautha wondered as he stared at the wall. Then, he smiled to himself. Having a Harkonnen literally at your back sure would make anyone feel safer.

And then, for the first time in forever, he was proud of who he was.

Chapter Text

She had been awake for quite some time.

She still had her one good hand, resting in Paul's hair, keeping the connection between them intact, draining his visions and nightmares to grant him the rest he needed. She observed his pale face, his smoothed out expression, the dark circles under his eyes as everything flooded into her mind. She knew he worried too much; for his mother, for the Fremen, for Arrakis, for Feyd-Rautha, for her. He worried for everything and everyone… except for himself.

In the past few days, she'd been worrying for him in his stead.

There were so much death in his visions. As various possible futures unfolded before her, she could observe them through his eyes. Not many of them were pleasant. A holy war started to spread across the universe, but they were still at the very early stages of it; she already knew that billions would perish if they refused to accept Muad'Dib and the religion they started to build around him. She could see young soldiers, fanatics, scream his name as they marched to their certain deaths. She could see him, sitting on his throne, sentencing hundreds to death for going against his will. There were so many who'd fall for him, so many who'd die because of him, and he had to carry that knowledge on his shoulders every day.

Her fingers ever so gently stroked his scalp. Paul did not move; he was completely out, in a deep, regenerative sleep that his mind had been craving for months by now. She couldn't help but feel sympathy for him; the Fremen wanted someone to guide them, and he merely answered the call – even if he knew where his path would lead, he had no choice. She knew he had been thinking about killing himself or trying to fall in a battle against someone else, but… Paul was aware that it was too late, even then. His legend would still spread and grow, the holy war still would stretch across the universe in his name. Why not stay alive, then? Try and gather some memories… that could, perhaps, outweigh all the horrors.

On top of all of this, he had to lose Chani. It wasn't clear why it happened this way, she had witnessed a possible future that did not come true where Paul challenged the Emperor, and Feyd-Rautha answered the call. They fought, and ultimately, Paul managed to kill him. But it was not how it happened; perhaps it could be because Feyd-Rautha reacted differently to the events. A sudden change of mind that could change the future, and their lives.

Paul hummed in his sleep, and her eyes focused on his peaceful face. She half smiled, stroking his scalp again. You are loved, she thought.

The heavy arm that rested on her side – and on Paul's, too – started to move. She turned her head slightly to glance back at Feyd-Rautha who looked down at her the moment she moved. He looked slightly grumpy; he did not want to be caught leaving, but he couldn't stay in bed anymore. The moment he woke up, he couldn't stop himself from obsessively thinking about that he had to find that servant, break all her bones and skin her alive.

"Go back to sleep", he whispered huskily.

"I can't", she murmured quietly.

"Why?"

"I'm in pain."

Of course, Feyd-Rautha cursed internally, of course she is in pain. And what was more astonishing than her admission was that it bothered him. He didn't want her to be in pain; not this sort of pain, anyway. It'd be entirely different if he had caused her these injuries, which was highly impossible; he'd been mildly stern with her, but not as aggressive as he was with his pleasure slaves back on Giedi Prime. He'd kill a slave every now and then back at home. Hell, he'd kill advisors and soldiers and random bystanders if the mood struck him. Of course… he could explain he was doing it for his darlings who loved fresh meat, but everyone knew it was just a lie that covered the truth: he simply enjoyed killing. He loved to feel how his knife split skin and he enjoyed the sight of the blood pouring out of the wound. He loved the noises, the gurgling, the dread and spirit in people's eyes as they fought and tried to stay alive.

His eyes scanned her face, imagined how he'd slit her throat, and he felt disgusted of himself.

"I'll get you something."

The bed didn't move at all when he lifted his body off of it. Feyd-Rautha could move completely silently, which was rather alarming when she thought about how big he was compared to her. A few seconds later, he stopped beside the bed, above their heads. She looked exhausted when she glanced up at him, while Paul slept so peacefully. Was this in close contact with what she was doing the last time when Paul had a nightmare… or was it just the fact that she was in pain? He couldn't be sure of either.

He didn't need to order her to open her mouth, she did it when she saw the painkiller in his hand. He stroked her head when she put it back down on the pillow, her eyes peering up at him, visibly worrying about him as she was observing him. He wasn't sure what to do with this emotion. People did not worry about him; they worried because he was in their immediate presence. They worried for their own well-being, not his.

"Sleep", he muttered, then he left the room.

He walked down the corridors to his own quarters to get properly dressed. At the moment, he hated Arrakis. Sure, it was meant for him the moment he became of age, and he had his moments of enjoying his time here, but the truth was… the desert wasn't one of his favourite scenes. In the past few days, he'd been wondering about visiting Giedi Prime. That was not his original home, but he enjoyed being there. All the surrounding metal, the noises of their machines, the bright screens and hovering letters… and no sand. The thrice cursed sand. He hated to put on a stillsuit whenever he wanted to go outside, and the filt-plugs bothered him to no end. Knowing that all the moisture his body lost would be circulated back for him to drink made his stomach turn. He wasn't used to such ways growing up, and he couldn't help but be grossed out by most of it.

He wanted to go home.

Feyd-Rautha was aware that he'd never be able to bring Paul with himself, or if he did, they'd need to bring a generous amount of spice with them because his husband was severely addicted to it. The melange became a part of him, and he couldn't function without it. If Paul did not get his fix, he'd die an addict's death. Feyd-Rautha, to his own surprise, did not want that. Curious, how the Bene Gesserit breeding program worked, even if Feyd-Rautha's spouse turned out to be a male. He often found himself watching Paul, thinking that how lucky he was. Paul was intelligent, charismatic, he was a great leader who wasn't afraid to get blood on his hands if it was needed – what else could he ask for?

Now, he dropped his robes from the previous day to the floor. Feyd-Rautha made sure to import food and water here – as much as necessary, along with brand new equipment, from Giedi Prime, so the moment he stepped under a rather primitive looking, but functioning shower, he was glad to feel that the water poured out of it. It was cold, but he did not mind; he'd be sweating in a few hours anyway on this God damned hellhole.

He thought of their last night together, how the harmony between them cracked because neither of them paid enough attention to the details. Feyd-Rautha knew he should not rely too much on Paul's seer capabilities, but at the same time, he'd trusted his guidance in matters that did not happen yet. Most of the time, when Paul predicted something, it happened that exact same way. Rarely did it happen that something got out of his sight. For it to be her…

He recalled what he felt when he caught Stilgar calling for the doctor because she needed him. He recalled what he felt when Stilgar confirmed that she was found with broken bones.

Feyd-Rautha smashed his fist into the wall. The pain was welcomed, it focused his mind on the present moment. What could he do now? First of all, he'd gather all the servants in the fortress and line them up in a room big enough. Then, he'd get it out of her which one had done it. Then… then, they'll all know and see why it's not a wise idea to touch anything that belonged to him.

He thought of Giedi Prime again, because he was completely sure this wouldn't've happened on his planet. How his people chanted his name, how they cherished him, how the Baron made his birthday a national holiday when he'd killed his hundredth slave in the arena. That was home. Where people loved him. Here, most of the people were afraid of him, or straight up hated him, because he was a Harkonnen, and even though him and his people worked with unison with Paul and the Fremen, the people of the desert did not forget and did not forgive.

At this thought, he wondered whether hurting her was a means to get to him and not Paul. It could be easily his fault. He'd been playing favourites lately, and she undeniably got way too much of his attention. The throne room… yes, they've deliberately put her on display, but it was all part of another plan. In order to bring forth Paul's visions, they had to do that. But what if his bold displays put her in another plan as well?

He finished his shower and stepped out, letting the water dry on its own on his body. The droplets didn't need much time, it was starting to get hot already. He cursed internally as he thought of the heat, and his mind wandered back to Giedi Prime and it's cold nights. Due to their black sun and volcanic activity, his home almost always remained cold. He half smiled to himself as he imagined that he'd bring her there; she'd shiver from the cold after she spent so much time here on Arrakis, and he could have her snuggle up to him under a thick blanket…

His husband wouldn't allow it, he realised, and he pouted as he got dressed.

Paul woke up to her fingertips moving gently against his scalp. He hummed, opened his eyes, and looked at her face; his mind was blissfully empty. He suspected – no, knew – that this was her doing, but he was postponing the confrontation about it for as long as possible; what if she thought that this was wrong? That she should not do it? He'd inevitably spiral back into the nightmares that haunted him.

Curious. He'd given no reason to her to do this, most of her torment stemmed from his husband and his own demand that she must not be killed… she must've known he was one of the causes Feyd-Rautha tortured her from time to time, why show such kindness towards him? He deserved his nightmares. He was a monster.

At this thought, he opened his eyes and he saw that she was asleep. He observed her face in the pale morning light; how her brows relaxed, her eyes moved behind her closed eyelids, how her lips trembled. She hummed softly, too, her fingertips twitching ever so slightly in his hair. Was she… dreaming?

A thought he did not like awakened in his mind. Could it be… that she was seeing whatever he was supposed to see in his dreams? How did her power work? He hadn't spent much time trying to tangle out who and what she was exactly, but if she literally shielded him from his visions that plagued him at night, it made it even more interesting – why was she doing this?

Paul swallowed. His throat was dry. It'd be cruel to think she caught feelings for him; he had nothing to give. Was he wrong? Perhaps he didn’t even need to give anything. Perhaps her emotions lacked logic. He had to close his eyes. He kept her to ensure his own future. He kept her because she seemed useful. Did she become important? More than a means to an end? More than a tool to use for his own purposes? He observed his emotions concerning her in the past and compared them to his current ones. A few months ago he could’ve cared less when he heard her screams as Feyd-Rautha was marking her, now, he got genuinely upset that she was tormented. A few months ago he would've acted like he did not care, and last night, he nearly lost his control.

He didn't like this. He'd been waiting for Chani for so long, he'd dreamt with her for so long, and now that he lost her, he could… move on? Disgusting thought. But it was true. He still was in mourning, but this girl could ease that pain. If she was around, he felt better. He must test this. He must know, and he knew how to make sure of what he felt.

He had to give her full control and he had to let her go.

His lips trembled at the thought, but he knew he must do this. He started to whisper to her unconscious, using the Voice – giving her instructions that would trigger at a certain point in time. When that moment came, both her and him had to be ready, because there would be no return.

Paul's restlessness reached her through their connection. She cracked her eyes open, seeing that he was looking back at her as if… as if he was already mourning her. She'd witnessed countless futures where she'd die; she wondered if him being awake and thinking of losing her triggered those visions. Seeing that it made him look distressed, she snuggled closer to him.

"Good morning, master", she mumbled sleepily.

He swallowed, wrapping his arm tighter around her, careful not to hurt her with it. He had to remind himself that some of her ribs were broken. His blue within blue eyes bore into hers as he was trying to solve her like a puzzle. He could not understand her motives. She had the power to free him from his visions that plagued his dreams and triggered nightmares, but why was she doing it?

He couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know.

"Why are you doing this?"

His quiet murmur was not met with a confused look. She blinked at him, slowly, like a cat that trusted its owner, and she replied at once.

"I would like you to rest, master."

Paul's brows twitched a little at her reply.

"Call me Paul."

He'd thought that his question about why was she doing this would earn him a confused look, but no, this order did. A frown, uncertainty.

"Paul", she murmured.

A shiver ran down on his spine. She managed to speak his name with so much reverence, so much faith, that he almost couldn't believe it. It felt even worse than how she called him master until then. He pulled away, and she let him. The moment her fingers slipped off of his temple, the connection broke, and he was flooded with countless visions once more.

All the death and horror of pasts and futures that happened, could happen, never did and never will… tormenting him… and she was just there, taking that torment away from him on her own accord.

"You should not do this to yourself", he sighed as he sat up on the bed, showing her his back. She observed the way he sat as he took his shirt off; he looked drained, exhausted, and she could count his ribs and clearly saw his spine. The sight rendered her speechless. It seemed that he was rapidly losing weight. His voice was quiet, gentle, as he spoke next. And so, so tired. "My visions are not for anyone to experience. There's too much time to consume…"

"I can absorb it", she whispered behind him as he got to his feet and turned to look at her. "It's not difficult for me to live with them."

"You haven't had a second of training to be able to comprehend the weight of the universe."

His voice sounded like a whip and his reply made her look up at him sheepishly. She looked so innocent that it almost annoyed him. His nostrils twitched as he thought through his next steps.

"You're wrong", she whispered then, making his anger rise to a new height.

"What makes you say that?"

Despite the fact he sounded angrier than how he spoke a moment ago, she didn't look frightened. On the contrary.

"I see the universe through your eyes", she murmured softly, climbing closer to him on her hands and knees on the bed. "I am safe."

Paul paused as he contemplated her words. He took a few moments to absorb the information, then, he reached out with his long, slightly calloused fingers and touched her chin to tilt her head up a little.

"You won't be safe forever", he whispered back quietly, and the light that sparked to life in his eyes a few moments ago, was snuffed out again.

Feyd-Rautha kept his promise he made to himself and lined up every servant in Arrakeen to find the culprit behind his favourite pet's injuries. The servants were visibly shaking as he was observing each and every woman and man, slowly walking up and down the line with his favourite pale, white dagger in hand. It was a gift from Paul; made from the best metals of the known universe, carved with Harkonnen signatures, its tip so sharp and its blade so wicked that no one in the room had a doubt that if he used that, heads would roll.

The pet – or as they called her amoung themselves, the royal whore – was summoned as well in the room. Feyd-Rautha walked slowly over to her, keeping his eyes on her face as she was visibly much more pale than usual.

"Which one was it?"

The question was quiet, the tone dark, almost animalistic. A shiver ran down her spine and she wished Paul was there, too; he could always calm Feyd-Rautha down just enough to stop the mayhem before it happened. She swallowed and glanced up at him pleadingly, her eyes confused and afraid.

"I… I don't see her here, master", she replied quietly, her voice thin with terror.

Feyd-Rautha looked back on the servants, his hairless brows furrowed.

"I've called each and every servant here for this", he noted, then glanced back down at her with the same expression. "Are you sure she's not here?"

"I am absolutely certain, master", she almost squeaked, knowing that he could undoubtedly erupt at any given moment.

But it wasn't at all that flashy. Feyd-Rautha hummed and walked back to the row of servants closest to himself, his dagger still in his hand, his thumb rubbing the metal on the top of the blade, as if in thought. He stopped directly in front of a woman who was visibly shaking in front of him; she was sweating from both the heat and the fear. His thick lips curled up into a cruel smile.

"Do you know anything about the servant who pushed my pet down the stairs?"

The question was simple, yet the woman started to sob. Feyd-Rautha could be horrible when he was denied anything – be it physical service or, in this case, the answer he wanted. And she couldn't tell him what he wanted to know.

"I- I don't kn-know, my Emp-"

Her words ended abruptly as he thrust the dagger out and buried the blade deep into her lower stomach. Her voice was stuck in her throat as he withdrew the dagger and stabbed again, making her suck in a shallow breath before he withdrew the dagger and stabbed once more. Blood splashed on his arm, and he almost shivered in excitement as the hot liquid stained his arm.

He glanced back at his favourite little pet who watched in absolute horror as the servant collapsed.

"Are you still absolutely certain, pet?" He cooed darkly, walking straight up to the next servant. She could not reply in any way, but Feyd-Rautha did not mind one bit. In fact, he smirked to himself as he turned back to the servants. "Let's ask another one, then."

Feyd-Rautha systematically murdered four servants in cold blood – until the fifth screamed for mercy and threw himself at his feet, telling him that the servant who did it was a new addition to the home, that nobody knew her name or where she came from, and that after the incident, she vanished. Finally satisfied with getting an answer – somewhat, he'd need to ask the guards and check records of everyone who entered Arrakeen in the past few weeks, it'd be tedious work but it'd be worth it –, Feyd-Rautha dismissed the remaining servants and took a good look at his pet.

"It seems he was right", he whispered, mainly to himself, then shook his head and walked up to her. He still had the dagger in his bloodied hand, and judging by the twitches of her face and the way she tried her best to look away from his face, he could tell that she was frigthened to death by his antiques. Strangely enough… he felt no satisfaction from that. Seeing her terrified at his deeds brought him no joy. He raised his clean hand and stroked her cheek, not caring about how she twitched at his touch. "Come, pet. You need to rest."

And she was allowed to rest until the moment she was all healed up – and when that moment came, that night she experienced Feyd-Rautha's worst side yet. She had handcuffs on her wrists, secured to the ceiling, her toes barely touching the ground as he was whipping her naked, defenseless body. She was blindfolded with an Atreides scarf Paul had imported from his homeland earlier that week. Each strike of the lash was hard enough to raise welts on her skin, and Feyd-Rautha could get her screams out of her fast. Even if she felt like she should show some self restraint as she was aware that Paul was present, sitting on a chair in front of her, observing the torture, she couldn't stop herself.

And strangely enough, her screams didn't only bother Paul, but Feyd-Rautha, too.

As Feyd-Rautha was working his way down her back, painting her skin pink first, he felt arousal – as always when he was putting a poor soul through incredible physical pain. He worked on her ass longer than usual, bringing it to the perfect shade of red before he brought the whip up on her back again.

They've discussed that this was needed, and Paul told him that he'd tell him when it was enough.

As Feyd-Rautha observed the marks on her skin after the third round, he realised that he'd soon start to break her skin and make her bleed if he kept up with his brutal whipping. But Paul did not signal him to stop. So he did not.

As the first drops of blood appeared on her skin and she screamed in agony, his arousal was gone. He used his free hand to communicate with his husband.

"Stop?"

Paul impatiently signalled back.

"No. Continue."

Feyd-Rautha was grinding his teeth in frustration, the muscles on the sides of his face clearly protruding as he raised the whip again, landing an even harder strike on her back, making her squirm and scream and dance her dance of pain on her tiptoes.

Fifteen lashes. More blood. More screams. Feyd-Rautha felt like he was at his very limit.

"Stop?" Feyd-Rautha's hand signalled to Paul again, who shook his head.

"We need to prepare her."

"I don't see how this is good for her in any way."

"I know it will be. Trust me."

Trust me, Feyd-Rautha snorted behind her, making her flinch as he swished the whip a few times. Paul rose from the chair and walked over to her. She sobbed in the scarf as she was hanging there, utterly helpless, accepting her fate, her head hung low. Paul cupped her face and raised her head up a little.

"Breathe through it", he whispered to her, and she went a bit quieter as she obeyed automatically. "Tolerate it. The pain and the fear does not own you. You control yourself and your own reactions; don't give your torturer what they want to hear and see. Breathe. Let it pass through you."

He moved his right hand away from her face and signalled to Feyd-Rautha again to continue. His husband's face twitched in annoyance, but he did as he was told, landing the whip on her lower back with devastating force. She flinched – but made no sound. She moved her head, pressing her cheek against Paul's hand harder.

"That's it, angel", Paul murmured, rubbing her cheek with his thumb as Feyd-Rautha was striking again. She breathed through the pain. "Good girl."

The next twenty minutes passed by, up until the point when Feyd-Rautha simply refused to beat her any longer. Even if Paul signalled to him not to stop, he did; throwing the whip on the floor before he walked over to the two of them. As he reached up to her wrists and the handcuffs that bind her to the ceiling, Paul glanced up at him.

"She's ready." The words were spoken in the language of the Harkonnens, so she wouldn't pick up on it. She was on the verge of passing out, anyway. "You can take her to Giedi Prime with you."

Feyd-Rautha's fingers stopped working on the handcuffs, and he stared down at Paul who looked back in his eyes knowingly.

"How did you…?"

"I know everything", Paul muttered, his gaze distant as he allowed her to rest her forehead on his shoulder as he shifted closer to her. "Nothing can stay hidden from me. Take her to Giedi Prime and when the moment comes… do nothing." Feyd-Rautha finally removed her handcuffs and she collapsed in Paul's arms. "You'll know the moment when it arrives."

"That was why you wanted me to put her through this?" Feyd-Rautha felt helpless, and when he felt helpless, he quickly started to feel angry. "Because you saw something that might happen?"

"Not might", Paul sighed as he gently gathered her almost completely limp body in his arms and started to walk with her, "will. And when it does, do nothing."

"Why?"

"Because you'll die if you don't listen to me."

"And you don't want me to die?" Feyd-Rautha's deep, raspy voice hid a little laughter. "Don't tell me."

"I don't want to lose either of you. But we can only put the danger behind us if we allow it to happen. There's no other way. We must be strong and brave."

"She must be strong and brave", Feyd-Rautha murmured, glancing down at her in Paul's arms as they walked. He removed the scarf from her head and they both saw that she wasn't conscious. The Harkonnen's expression scrunched up in a disgusted grimace. He hated himself for this. "Don't ask me to hurt her this way ever again."

"I won't."

They treated her injuries with a warm bath that had the same concoction in it as always; knitting her wounds back together and soothing the pains in her body. She woke up for only a few moments to glance up at the men – confused but mumbling unintelligible words of gratitude before she drifted off.

Once she was all healed up and dried, she was taken to the bed to rest properly. But after a little while, she woke up on her own, unconsciously stirring from her sleep when she couldn't feel the warmth of at least one body near herself. She cracked her eyes open; facing a wall and a glowglobe, she blinked a few times as the events of that evening rushed back in her mind. All the pain and helplessness, Paul's words… his words…

"You love her." The whisper sounded like a thousand people whispered it at the same time. Paul was using the Voice – probably on Feyd-Rautha. Her heart almost stopped beating at the commands he whispered to his husband while he was asleep. She didn't dare to turn and look at them; she could feel Paul shifting closer to Feyd-Rautha as he continued to whisper. "You will not find joy in her suffering. You will cherish her. You love her…"

She stared at the wall, eyes wide open, as she tried to imagine how these commands would impact Feyd-Rautha's behaviour towards her. For a few minutes, Paul reinforced the orders, then shifted away from Feyd-Rautha and turned towards her to wrap his arm around her naked form. For a few moments, she could only stare at the wall in fear of getting caught. But then, Paul chuckled behind her as he buried his face in the back of her head.

"I know you're awake, angel", he whispered softly, and she allowed the dread to settle in.