Chapter Text
As Paul watched the ship touch down on the sandy surface of Arrakis, he felt his jaw set, muscles hardening. He could hear his heartbeat, eardrums vibrating with it, even over the sound of turbines.
In mere seconds, the man who symbolized his greatest regret, his greatest failure, was going to exit this ship.
And in three days time, Paul was going to marry him.
He felt his mother’s presence behind him, gently looming, Duncan by her side. Paul didn’t need to look to know he had his hand on the hilt of his sword. Gurney, on Paul’s other side, shifted slightly as the door of the ship released with a hiss.
“We can still change our plans,” he said under his breath, “Kill them right where they stand.” Duncan grunted in agreement, but said nothing. Paul knew how much restraint it was costing him to be here in the first place, only held by loyalty to House Atreides.
Paul could feel his mother slowly turning her gaze upon Gurney, staying silent. Paul answered in her stead. “We cannot. Caladan’s fate depends on it.” He did not avert his eyes from the ship as he spoke.
The evening sun on Arrakis was still hot enough to burn one’s skin, and the passengers exiting down the ramp were at heightened risk of burning.
The Harkonnen warrior’s pale white skin seemed to glisten, and their inky black armor stood out against the browns and ocres of Arrakis. They descended, and placed themselves in two lines, standing straight and rigid. Behind them, more ships touched down. The sight of it made the hair in the back of Paul’s neck stand up. Not for long , he told himself.
Paul heard his own jaw click, teeth grinding, as light-footed, strong steps descended the ship’s ramp.
The man exiting the ship with precise, reptilian movements elicited a reaction inside Paul that was so visceral that he had to, for one second, use all of his strength to push it down, and remain standing upright, shoulders straight.
“Emperor Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen!” one of the black-and-white warriors announced, voice echoing over the wide sands of Arrakis.
Paul stared into the pitch-black eyes of the man he was going to marry in three days, and felt nothing but hatred.
-
Everything had gone right, and then, everything had gone wrong, and Paul couldn’t forgive himself for it. Hated himself for it.
He had ripped Arrakis from the hands of Baron Vladimir Harkonnen while his Fremen warriors cut down the Sardaukar, who had underestimated them greatly. Paul himself slayed the Baron, who was groveling on the palace steps like a disgusting, slimy insect. Paul just left him there. Nobody even harvested his water, not even for the cooling systems; he wasn’t worth this honor. Every part of him wiped out, given to the desert to feed the ants.
Unfortunately, Paul had to learn the hard way that, in the throes of his impending victory, he had made one fatal mistake. He had underestimated one part of this puzzle: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, who slit the Emperor’s throat, knocked Princess Irulan unconscious, and managed to narrowly escape Arrakis with her in tow.
Arrakis was back under Fremen, and Atreidis, rule, but Paul had been defeated, the title of Emperor taken from him in part.
Feyd-Rautha had Irulan, but Paul had Arrakis. Had spice.
News from the known universe were hectic and imprecise during this time, but soon, Paul’s spies reported to him that there was some sort of problem with the marriage between Irulan and Feyd-Rautha, effectively nullifying the marriage and leveling the playing field between the two men.
And so, an endless game of chess ensued, both of them pulling the available strings. Paul extended his reign, bringing several of the Major Houses under his control, but so did Feyd-Rautha. In doing so, the Harkonnens reached Caladan before Paul could, and held on to it. Paul was incapable of sleeping for days on end after hearing the news.
Caladan was his home. He couldn’t risk destroying it.
Paul controlled spice, Feyd-Rautha controlled Caladan. Held it hostage.
They had reached a cruel stalemate, caught up in an agonizingly slow fight that, Paul was convinced, drained Feyd-Rautha as much as it did him.
This went on for two years, in which Paul lived in constant regret and agony when his thoughts carried him back to that one fateful mistake.
Eventually, the Bene Gesserit approached him, a ship carrying the Mother Superior to Arrakis.
“You must make peace.”
“I would rather slit my own throat than to make peace with the house that murdered my father.” His words had earned him a stern look by the Mother Superior. But he had seen too much in the past few years to let it intimidate him.
“Don’t act like a petulant child,” she had told him. “It is the only way to succeed.” She paused meaningfully. “Without destroying Caladan. He knows how much it means to you.”
It took Paul a full day to tamp down his rage over this, and it came back immediately once he heard the Mother Superior’s suggestion: “You must marry him.”
An incredulous laugh had escaped Paul at the mere suggestion. “Marry him? Mother Superior, you have lost your mind. The little you had left to begin with.” Paul had lost all respect for her somewhere along the way.
Her face had soured, but when she spoke next, it wasn’t to Paul. “You know it’s what he must do.”
Paul turned to follow her eyes, which were trained on his mother. Jessica was rigid, hands buried in her sleeves, her eyes wide and glistening with wetness.
When she spoke, it was in an awed whisper. “As it was written.”
The Mother Superior’s voice carried cruel pleasure in it when she spoke next. “Seems like meddling in your own womb wasn’t enough to change fate, after all.”
Paul watched as one single tear ran down his mother’s cheek.
-
Paul expected vitriol from Feyd-Rautha as he came to a halt before him. But instead, the Harkonnen merely bared his black-stained teeth in a deranged grin, tipping his head to the side.
“Paul Atreides."
“Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” Paul replied through gritted teeth. “Welcome to Arrakis.” The words burned in his throat like hot sand.
“Glad to be back,” Feyd-Rautha sneered, his strange voice having deepened further since the last time they had seen each other. He was roughly two years older than Paul, making him nineteen or twenty. He had grown into his Harkonnen physique, bare white arms corded with thick, long muscles, shoulders broad and square. He was only slightly taller than Paul himself, and Paul found himself wondering about the disadvantages this could give him in battle.
All in due time.
Paul knew, felt, how tense the entire Fremen delegation behind him was. He saw Chani’s face before his mind’s eye, rage and grief pulling on her mouth.
It cost him more strength than anything before, but Paul reached out, offering Feyd-Rautha his hand. “May we reunite the Empire in glory and power.”
Feyd-Rautha grasped Paul’s forearm with his own hand with no hesitation. “To peace.” Paul did not miss the sharp, acrid irony in his voice. It was lost when the attendants echoed Feyd-Rautha’s words, “To peace!”
-
Aides showed the Harkonnen delegation to their quarters. The guards and servants looked uncomfortable here, where so many of them had been slain before. It gave Paul a deep satisfaction to see the barely-concealed terror on their faces. House Harkonnen, human after all.
At least some of them.
The contents of the pre-nuptial contract had to be negotiated. Paul and Feyd-Rautha sat on opposite sides of a table, surrounded by mentats, truthsayers, aides and advisors. Of course, Jessica was present, Gurney, too, and Chani, who gave Paul a long, meaningful look as she sat down, in her new position as Fremen leader. Duncan stood behind Paul, taut as a bowstring, looming silently, ready to end everyone who came too close to his Lord. Paul noticed the present Sardaukar warriors that had arrived with the Harkonnens eye Duncan across the room.
Also present was, much to Paul’s disdain, the Mother Superior, hidden behind her black veils.
Details were discussed, and while Paul knew he ought to listen, it was almost impossible for his thoughts not to drift to Feyd-Rautha. His husband-to-be, provided they got this over with.
He looked equally as interested as Paul, maybe slightly less so. He had one leg thrown over the armrest of the chair, disrespectful like a child, and was idly toying with a shiny black blade. This didn't scare Paul; Feyd and him had been equals in combat years ago, and Paul had learned enough to feel confident in his abilities to dominate in a fight against the Harkonnen.
“-marriage with the princess must be annulled.”
Paul snapped out of his thoughts.
“That won't be necessary,” a Harkonnen truthsayer said thinly.
“Polygamy complicates things-”
“The marriage-,” the same truthsayer started, then paused, eyes darting briefly to Feyd-Rautha, who, on the surface, looked just as disinterested as before. But Paul noticed just the smallest frown creeping onto his face. The truthsayer swallowed, then continued, “...was never consummated.”
Paul swore he could hear several pairs of eyebrows being raised. Feyd-Rautha sneered, shifting in his seat, but said nothing.
“...so it is legally possible for Emperor Feyd-Rautha to enter a new marriage without losing the privileges of the marriage with the former Emperor’s daughter,” finished the truthsayer, their hands flat on the table.
Heavy fabric rustled as the mother superior shifted forward. “Princess Irulan selfishly and childishly refused to consummate the marriage,” she said sourly, “Which was only possible due to her extensive Bene Gesserit training.”
Down the table, Feyd sneered again, eyes still on his knife.
“Well.” It came out before Paul could stop himself, “A lovely thing to know,” he commented, idly referencing his own Bene Gesserit powers, eyes on Feyd-Rautha, who met them with his own pitch-black gaze. Hate burned in it.
“Paul,” Jessica chided gently, low enough so only he could hear.
She had told him that the Harkonnen was especially vulnerable to humiliation, and Paul wished dearly that he could use this weak point to cause as much suffering as possible. But alas.
“This marriage,” the Mother Superior said, speaking over rising quiet chatter, “must be consummated within three months, or it will not take effect and the contract will be nul.”
The cruel satisfaction Paul had just felt vanished immediately, and was replaced by something akin to horror as she continued speaking.
“There must be at least one witness present to observe the act.”
Paul tasted bile in his mouth. His mother briefly met his eyes, but he was incapable of reading her gaze.
Opposite of him, Feyd-Rautha’s lips curled into a cruel, slow smile. Then, he gave Paul a wink.
The chair scraped brutally against the stone floor when Paul shot up from his seat. “Recess,” was all he got out, before turning on his heels and storming out of the room.
-
Paul stalked down the spacey corridor, forcing himself to inhale the hot air in even breaths. His feet carried him to one of the half-shaded terraces, looking out over the new, young Sacred Palm Trees. The mid-day sun made the air brutally dry, and while Paul was used to the punishing heat of Arrakis, he wished for the cool sea breeze of Caladan at this moment.
“Paul,” his mother’s voice said behind him, sudden and calm, causing Paul to halt in his steps. “Paul,” she said again, gentler, and he turned. She was alone, her hands folded on her stomach. Her eyes had a soft intensity in them.
For a second, they stared at each other. She did not break his gaze.
“Did you know?” he asked after a few seconds of silence.
“Yes,” she answered honestly.
“It’s a marriage of convenience, the Mother Superior said.” Paul could hear the shaking in his own voice. His people couldn’t know how much this made him falter, how shaky his hands were. But this was his mother. “And,” he swallowed hard, “Witnesses?”
Jessica let out a low hum. “Even marriages of convenience come with certain duties,” she said, approaching him with slow, unhurried steps. She came to a halt next to him, looking up. He could see himself in her face, her fine features, her nose. He’d always looked more like her than he’d looked like his father. “You know you’ll be able to keep him from hurting you.”
Paul scoffed. That wasn’t what it was about.
“My skin crawls from the mere idea of being near him.”
Jessica held his gaze. “Remember what’s at stake, Paul. Great leaders must make sacrifices.”
Paul couldn’t look her in the eyes anymore. Instead, he looked out over the courtyard, watched the Sacred Palm Trees sway gently in the hot winds of Arrakis. They had rebuilt Arrakeen, just as they would rebuild the whole of Arrakis, and Caladan, and House Atreides.
“My son.” Jessica’s hand wrapped around his forearm. When he turned back to look at her, she placed her other hand on his cheek. “Remember our ancestors.” He knew by the way she said it that she was talking about the Bene Gesserit. “Men like him are easily manipulated by their flesh-” Paul felt his mouth pull into a disgusted frown- “-so, think of it as a way to gain even more power.”
I wish I didn’t have to fuck him for that , Paul thought.
“This is a sacrifice many women have made before you for peace.” Jessica’s gaze was pointed and serious. “At least you match him in strength.”
Paul wanted to ask why she kept bringing up femininity in all of this, but before he could, a voice spoke from the doorway to the terrace.
“Does the great Muad’Dib need his hand held by his witch mother at the thought of coupling?”
Feyd-Rautha slowly took two steps forward, moving like a snake about to swallow its prey whole. There was a cruel, lopsided grin on his face.
Paul wanted to reply with some brash remark, but Jessica squeezed his arm before letting go and stepping back. Paul felt dread surge inside him at the idea of being left alone with the Harkonnen, but Jessica turned to leave. Feyd-Rautha followed her with his black eyes, unmoving as she stepped around him, giving him a wide berth like one would with a skittish animal.
When she was gone, Feyd-Rautha turned his gaze back on Paul, the twisted smile still on his face.
Paul forced himself to lean against the railing, all casual. He could grab his knife in a split-second. He opened his mouth, and while he tried in earnest not to say anything inflammatory, what came out was, “I should cut you down where you stand.”
Feyd-Rautha cocked his head. “And risk your precious Caladan?” He took two more steps forward, and suddenly, Paul felt awfully caged in. “Tell me, oh great savior of Arrakis, will you let me bend you over to save your home world?”
Paul felt his hand spasm, wanting to reach for the knife in his belt by pure instinct. Instead, he dug his fingers into the stone railing until his joints popped. “You seem eager,” he commented, trying to keep his voice even, “Is it because you failed to bed one princess already?”
That elicited a deeply satisfying sneer. “We will see if you’re still this witty when I fuck you until you bleed while the entire Known Universe watches.”
Paul tasted bile, the hatred in his veins surging. Feyd-Rautha’s grin widened at the reaction, his black saliva covering his teeth, making his mouth look like a gaping hole.
And Paul couldn’t help it. It was a desperate attempt to end this vulnerability, to ensure Feyd-Rautha did not forget who he was, the power he possessed - the Voice broke out of him. “ LEAVE ME! ”
The Harkonnen stiffened, unable to resist the Voice, his smile wiped off his face. He turned to leave, as Paul had told him to, movements stiff and unnatural.
When he was gone, Paul turned, and swallowed the bile coming up his throat so as to not waste any of his water.
-
Duncan stood outside the meeting room doors. “My Lord,” he said when Paul approached, in the same affectionate tone Paul remembered him calling him ‘my boy’ when he’d been younger.
Paul felt strange meeting his eyes. It had been different with his mother, less difficult. For some reason, as it occurred to Paul that Duncan had been present when they’d spoken about him and Feyd-Rautha consummating their marriage, shame started gnawing at his insides.
Duncan, to his relief, offered no hollow words of comfort, did not ask if he was alright once he saw Paul was unharmed. All he did was open the door for him, and follow Paul once he stepped inside.
The meeting had continued without him.
Feyd-Rautha was back in his seat, looking taut and angry. Paul half expected to see a slain slave somewhere on the floor, but there was none. Incredible self-restraint for a Harkonnen , he thought bitterly. The entire congregation had fallen silent upon his entrance, watching Paul take his seat.
“Proceed,” Paul said, trying to regain his bearings, acting as it was fit for an Emperor.
The wedding was to happen on Arrakis, the consummation on Giedi Prime. The mere thought of it happening on Feyd-Rautha’s home planet was almost enough to bring the bile back up in Paul’s mouth. But he clenched his teeth and fists, and forced himself to endure.
For House Atreides. For Caladan. For peace.