❝𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘫𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳.❞ You, an Atreides, the only daughter of Lady Jessica and Duke Leto are married to the violent bald Harkonnen.
I wrote all 20 + chapters of this in like three days so spelling...
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Truly,
the first man who stopped clapping was summarily executed.
Seven hours. SEVEN FUCKING HOURS. Not the clapping but the whole scenario.
This was the summer decay, the grisly fete. A once a year phenomenon to welcome in the heated months, it only made it more exotic it coincided with a win from Giedi Primes hallowed son.
A pavilion had been erected, big enough to house ten thousand people, fashioned from whale bone, the roof assembled from sharpened ribs. This was where the tribute happened.
Each noble and on—world House representative gave something, silks, spice, meats, clothes, mining machines, items of military significance. Some families, or most, saved for the entire year, fighting to outshine each other.
The line was outside the door, around a hundred men left.
Fat man sat front and centre, so calm, so in control, the pinnacle of power, playing polite, happily accepting his goods with blessings.
Rabban, to his left, fussed with a thick, muscled woman with black hair in only golden chains to protect her modesty on the end of a leather leash, the family of the name Scalar would be safe all year. As long as their daughter kept laughing at your brother in laws jokes.
What a novelty you were, tiger teeth pearls and salt—bird opals braided into your hair, FOR ONCE, in clothes that covered your lower thighs.
His uncle had the good sense to separate you, the pale, menacing (fucking asshole) freak Feyd Rautha wasn't being well behaved, touchy and teasing and taunting enough you'd almost cried. 'Now, now, beautiful boy, leave her be, sit beside your brother' the century old tubby spice sucker had tsk'd at tribute 75, overjoyed at how his nephew pouted and internally protested, slipping his hand from your pinched inner thigh.
HE WAS BULLYING YOU. YOUR OWN HUSBAND. For once it didn't turn you on. Terrored at will, sexually bothered before fucking noon.
As the head of family Inax kneeled, a treasure chest weighing him down as he waited for permission to step forward, you covered your mouth, "may I leave for a moment? To refresh myself."
It wasn't a lie, the temp gauges read 36 degrees C, practically sweltering for you.
The Baron nodded barely enough to see.
Both brothers stood when you did, the woman in gold chains currently being fiddled with surprised you smiled at her.
