The long awaited and highly speculated reveal is here - feyd/dune fic [update]
See what has been brewing on Arrakis for Feyd and his 'witch' consort, Mintha!
Click below for a sneak peak at the chapter and links to the story!
❌MATURE READERS ONLY 🔞
Feyd put his arm around my back to lead me back to the dais. I was ready for food. None of my meals stuck inside. It was as if half of my food slipped to nothingness, causing me to eat twice as much. It calmed Feyd’s concern of my intake, at least. A servant approached with my drink. “I need something to eat. Do you have anything? No. God, no. No eyes. Something nice.” They mumbled a quiet reply that they would find some. I would apologize for my insistence when they returned. With something to eat. “Na-Baron! Oh, na-Baron.” Voices called out. Feyd was pulled to greet his nobility as they fawned. He could not turn down the chance for their attentions. I was happy to remain apart, watching his ego grow and grow the longer they spoke. The Bondar matron appeared at his side. She put a hand on his shoulder. His eyes snapped to it, pulling away very directly. She, however, took it in stride. Her hand gestured out to the younger of the women. The young daughter bowed and nodded along with her mother’s statements. Eager smiles showed their own set of imposing teeth. The tips of their long corner teeth were like fangs, down into their gums. They were the type made for Feyd. He could be bitten by those fangs with great delight. Deep bruises would remain tender for weeks after being punctured by those. My stomach soured. Maybe I was not so fit as his partner as I believed. Maybe more monster lurked inside. A stronger demented monster that kept restrained by his own obsession. Feyd’s attention flicked up for a moment. Our eyes met. Through tables and people, we were able to see one another clearly. He did not appear the least interested. His eyes rolled before he had to turn back to his subordinates. He explained, before, that it was imperative to retain excellent relations with his nobles. If he was to overthrow his uncle and surmount the throne, he needed their support. If we made enemies of them, it would make things difficult. That was why I did not crumble to pieces when he accepted a dance with one of them. I watched as he kept her at arm’s length as they walked to the dance floor. Others joined in the space. Paired off as couples to dance the same beat. My fingers stuffed small roasted beans and dried olives in my mouth. Their salt satisfied my taste buds. “The lady stands alone.” I jolted in place. I had thought I was alone on the edge of the floor. My fingers dusted the salt onto my dress. “Harun.” It showed my surprise. I practically shouted it. “You’re here.” “I was surprised to merit an invitation. It was my impression the na-Baron did not care for me much.” I blinked. I did not know what to say. “But, here we are.” He said with a smile. “Accepted once more, yes?” The dance started. The many couples, Feyd included, began to move. It was a fascinating watch. The dance was lively for a Harkonnen tradition. There was not much spirit inside them but for blood sport. I questioned whether it was a true tradition of their culture, and what sort of noble people they had sprang from whom held dance in a lively air that the living Harkonnens did not.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
