lazarus. feyd rautha

chapter nine: the ball

KAITAIN, CORRINTH, 10,191

With a man's mouth sucking bruises onto her neck, Anastacia passively realizes that she has only now begun her real work as a Bene Gesserit. She conjures the faces of women she knew from the school dormitory, girls she'd grown up with, and the look of fear peeking through the cracks of their masks as they said their goodbyes before leaving for marriage. They are imbued with some of the most powerful skills in the universe, and yet they are entitled to nothing, terror nor tears. She thought briefly about the act of seduction and what type of performance she should give, but this didn't feel like a performance. It felt like burning inside out. She found that she enjoyed it even when it hurt, especially when it hurt, a revelation she was not prepared for.

Feyd hovering over her, between her legs, his hands holding her still in a bruising grip. Feyd, leaving bite marks beneath her breasts where he's tugged her dress down. Feyd, overwhelming, intoxicating, warm against her skin. She find's herself missing it before it's even over, anticipatory withdrawal.

She decides she will not indulge him more than she deems necessary. She will cut him off, and dangle the rest in front of him like a carrot on a stick, a reward he can win if he behaves himself.

She slides her hands away from his back, gives a gentle push on his shoulders. "That's enough now." She doesn't bother using the Voice on him. She finds that she doesn't have to, he is obedient when handled correctly. A small flame of anxiety bloomed as she wondered how long that would last—she snuffs it out.

Feyd sits up, dazed and confused, and a bit pissed off. "Do I frighten you?" Feyd asks.

She had asked him something similar many weeks ago in a dojo when they travelled through open space with only each other as company. She meant it as a teasing joke, despite the mysticism surrounding the Bene Gesserit, she never believed Feyd could ever possibly fear her the way she did him. She was a servant to a school with no title to her name, he was born to one of the richest and cruellest Great Houses in the Imperium. She was alone on his planet, surrounded by men who looked like him, obeyed him, worshipped him. Until Kaitain she was playing in his domain, vulnerable to his whims. There would undoubtably be consequences for killing her, but nothing that would ultimately rattle his status or livelihood, not even at the hands of the Reverend Mother, for he was a prospect that needed to be preserved.

But perhaps she was seeing things wrong. Had he ever really given her a reason to fear him? He made no attempt to harm her outside their training, aside from his brief detainment for the poisoning matter where he was distressed. But Feyd represented all the things she feared upon entering this marriage agreement. Even if he didn't hurt her, he killed others with ease, and his peers on Giedi Prime seemed only worse. Submitting herself to him would always mean being at the mercy of them.

She wasn't supposed to hold onto those feelings. Fear was a blinder, it created tunnel vision, robbing you of seeing the full picture—and perhaps that was what she forgot now, that he was not a representative for his entire race, but a single part of it.

She had not considered until recently how their roles might also be reversed. Feyd was not unfamiliar with the Bene Gesserit. A sister had come to train him. He was, likely at a very young age, exposed to power beyond his scope of imagination. He understood himself to be a product for her organization, only to discover later on that he would marry one. His life was preordained. Did he truly have any more agency than she did?

"You'll have to earn the rest." She climbs off the bed and stands, turns her back to him, pulls her dress back onto her shoulders. "Will you do the laces?" She asks quietly. Feyd doesn't respond. She feels his presence behind her, his warm breath on the back of her neck, his fingers, ghost-light on her exposed back as he ties the laces of her dress back up. When he's done he rests his hands on her waist. She turns in his hold to face him and smiles, not unkindly. "Goodnight Feyd."