Blood & Marriage🩸Feyd Rautha x f! Reader

05;

FIVE ENTIRE DAYS HAD PASSED.

And it had mostly consisted of you languishing in the monolithic fortress in the capital city, kinda abandoned, preparing, bathing, simply scheming through all the fantastical ways to touch the hearts of your new people.

You needed the support of the common folk.

Sure you'd been fed, watered, plastered in Harkonnen finery, an entire wing of the fortress yours and yours alone.
But no one wanted to speak to you, hell you were friendless, instead they spied, monitored all communications, snuck inside your chambers to rifle through your draws and trinkets, snooping through whatever you'd be allowed to unpack—under the watchful gaze of the twisted mentat and his stained lip.

Feyd hadn't lied however, the gutted bodies of your attackers were hanging high in front of the castle, SIGNED AND DATED, now bloated and rotting. You could see it from your pink stained window, not exactly the best sight.

The only inhabitable planet in their solar system, this industrial rock paved over and in desperate need for plants and animals supported billions of these hairless little ghosts.

But no matter how much you plotted, amused yourself with memories, tried your hardest to make allies with the courtesans and concubines that turned their backs and pretended not to understand you...

there was one inescapable fact, tomorrow you'd be married, the biggest day of your life. Terror mixing with this faint...excitement.

You was sure he wouldn't be a good husband, but at least one that would leave you alone, until tomorrow night perhaps.

There was some punching in your flipping gut at the idea of sharing a bed with him. Having to TOUCH HIM, endure it. Would he be gentle? Patient? A teacher? Or some forceful, short rut with his hands pinning yours, uncaring for your own pleasure, the love where you needed to close your eyes and think of prophecy.

Just a DUTY, not something nice.

The Bene Gesserit had spun a few lessons on how to please a man, how to tempt and seduce, Feyd was liable to be sexually vulnerable, and if the use of charm and body failed to conceive an heir, hypnosis would.

You yawned in the deep pool of fresh water, Ezza, your appointed maiden, who'd only about got over your appearance poured in some strange, sweet scented milk that made your skin gleam, swirling it with her hand. "Is that acceptable, my lady?"

"Perfect, thank you so much." She was a lithe thing, with eyes void dark and huge, entirely hairless, more afraid of you than the other way around. All the 'slaves' were the same that way, twitching, terrified, who walked everywhere with their heads down.

Not acquainted with kindness, or so you could tell with the random screams. Bastards. Ezza pressed some glowing button, the water bubbling violently.

In the scattered conversations you'd wrung from her, she'd told you in a low, low voice that the ceremony was said to be global, the celebrations lasting for 7 days, with arena games and military parades, fireworks that looked like white exploding ink.

There was no cake, no white dresses, SPEAKING OF WHICH THE BARON CHOSE THAT, as was custom, no dancing and speeches—but people on this hellhole did kiss, and you were due a gift, after a BLOOD MINGLING, whatever that was.

So lost in thought, playing with the last spatter of milky bubbles, you barely noticed she held a pair of scissors in one dainty hand, a fistful of your hair in another, JUST about to cut when you startled to your feet shocked. "EZZA DON't!"

Poor Ezza trembled at your reaction, GASPING with a clutch to her chest, dropping the sharp gold blades, immediately on her knees with her forehead on the floor, "please!" She almost wept, "this is only custom, FORGIVE ME, Na—Baroness."

"Oh, Ezza." Of course you did, heart in your mouth, leaning out of the water to touch her shoulder, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I..." she peeped from her black, unblinking eye as you tempered your voice. Mother could be abrupt with servants, not you. "I want to keep it."

"But...but...this is a must." She didn't get it, slowly sitting with legs crossed and her expression utter confusion, "but it's protocol, for purity..." she stuttered, "everyone in this world does the same, you would be the ONLY one."

You checked your locks just in case she'd done a cheeky snip. "I'm not from this world."

Ezza did some self—soothing, forcing herself to not chew her nails, gaze cast on the taps. "You may offend your husband, it is saying you're above us...not to mention how the Baron—."

"Then so be it." YEAH. You kinda got that, sinking back down into the water, urging her to get to her feet and stop cowering, "I wish to be different."

"I tell you this out of concern, my lady," and your maid watched the shadows, voice so small you struggled to hear, "na—Baron Rautha won't approve. We all have to answer."

"GOOD." Not that he'd actually done anything, in fact, he'd saved you, rinsing your face of the clay mask, swiping the rich, thick moisture from your lip, you shrugged, offering her some sweet red juice, "then that's on me, but married or not, I'm still me, I'm still Atreides. Your grotesque Baron and the man—boy don't scare me."