You'd ran, all I it just too much, flung your shoes and ran soon as no one was watching, soon as you had the chance.

Bare feet muddy, veil flung from your face, straight into the stables.

This was YOUR place, a nice one, rich with memories, father teaching you how to ride, races with Paul, where you and mother gossiped.

Starfire rested in her stall, perking up at the arrival as she sniffed the air, welcoming you with a friendly head nod, the MAMMOTH black mare was your very own, the finest in the imperium with eyes blue as sapphires and fur virgin white.

She nuzzled against you, nosing your stomach gently as you soothed hands across her powerful body, the ache to throw your legs around her back and ride—ride anywhere, preferably to a place no Harkonnens and mystic witches existed.

The marriage was inevitable, and you wasn't selfish, LITERALLY bred for this purpose, it had to be done, to bring peace for your people, an end to the death and fighting.

Starfire greedily accepted the fruit from your palm, having no clue to your crying, after this you would never see each other again, never smell this stable, never feel the downy hair of her well—kept body.

And a fat tear rolled down your cheek as you held them up to the Calandan wind, alive with sea—salt, fresh and forever, toes working into the spatter of golden straw as the pet became a full on hug, her colossal head resting over your shoulder—maybe she did know.

Not that it lasted long.

Harkonnens were sly as they were ugly.

Gurneys training had honed you well.

The intruder was creeping through the back door, light on his feet with an assassins grace, Starlight bolting to the far side with pinned back ears and anxious eyes while you hid your face again, silver, twisted dagger in hand as you prepared your pitch.

"Leave," you ordered, just like father in the ferocity. "How dare you wonder in my private quarters."

Spinning, the blade clutched in your palm faltered, grit in your throat.

The pale Harkonnen wondered from the shadows, hands clutched behind his back coming up in a show of slight surrender, still wearing that ghostly smirk on plump, pouty lips.

"Leave, Atreides?" He spoke, and it made you stagger through a breath, JUST LIKE UNCLE IN THE RAW, GRAVEL tone, "but I've only just arrived."

And he plucked an apple from the woven basket, maintaining this little display threat as he looked EXACTLY where your eyes would be while taking a crunching bite. "And I won't be leaving without you."

Maybe if he saw the way your teeth flashed he'd be more afraid, you WOULD cut him. Watching your back, following his form, there was some brass AUDACITY with how close he came.

Barely feet away, ever so amused, treating your planet, YOUR own home like his.

"Get out," you growled, his head tilting at your voice, holding up the knife in warning, "or I'll call the guards and have you flogged."

In true style they'd arrived to Caladan late, what was left of the golden sun dipping into the first shades of nightfall, and the shadows danced on his face as he genuinely laughed, "is that so?"

JUST SO COCKY.

"THATS SO." You snapped, thinking fuck it all, meaning to show him you was no kitten as you surely stepped forward and held the tip to his lithe throat. "Or better yet, I'll do it myself."

"Mmm." For a second he stopped the obnoxious chewing, obviously enjoying it and deep in through, "so this is how things will be," some bald brow raised as a ruby red dollop of blood wept from the slight wound. "I would like to see you try, wife."

Your jaw hit the floor, Starfire turning her back with a grunt.

WIFE? You snorted, lips licked, watching the mushed apple swallow and roll down his neck. "I'm not your wife," you hissed, watching as his biceps flexed and he puffed out his chest, DAMN YOU JUST ABOUT CAME TO HIS CHIN, "not yet, that can change."

"Hate me so already but still you've not called your guards, princess." Feyd dismissed you with a roll of his hand, finding it all cute, free fingers slowly running down the serrated edge of the blade before it pushed on the tip to redirect. "Remove your veil, I'd like to see you, after all you are a gift to me."

He COULD "GO TO HELL", no one had ever been this disrespectful, marching with no regard into your personal space, taking one step forward so you'd take one away until your back hit the carved wooden posts. "I didn't want this. You're too close. BACK. UP."

For some reason your voice didn't work as he stared down, "no," throwing away the apple core, shoulders rising in a massive breath with a lip twitching, "but I'll soon be closer, and nor did I want you, yet we must." And his breath broke right over the silk, touching the hem of the thin material curiously, "or is there something you wish to hide?" Cruelty was incoming as he heavily tilted his head. "Perhaps you look like your father?"

Static, static erupted in your head, entire body rocked, diamonds on your dress making a singing sound, THE HOG, THE SLUG, some crackling sound in your chest, ashamed that you'd let him corner you like this, and he may have been in line to inherit Arrakis, and you'd survived reverend mothers Gom Jabbar, but no one who wanted to ever breathe again could insult your family.

The twisted silver engraved with an eagle flung fast as wildfire towards his face, it wouldn't kill him, just hurt, a lot, entire shoulder thrown into it, hips swinging—

UNTIL IT DIDN'T, your wrist making a heavy wet slap as Na—Baron caught it, "ah, ah, ah," he tongued, black—toothed smile spreading over his face, and there was an effortless grace to the twist that brought it up to his mouth, lifting you up to your toes, "I think you and me, princess, will make the best of friends."

You had no idea what to do as he LICKED IT, simply lapped a pink yet stained tongue up your beloved dagger, stunned and shaken against the tac—stump.

He did not, Starfire whipped her tail, abandoning her salt treat to watch him watch me with malicious intent, THERE YOU WAS, a limpish bag of choked breaths and quirked brows, slightly crouched and VERY taken aback.

What would do now? Excuse me please don't...go serpent on this sharp object. He was already not allowed in here if Paul walked in now there'd be a holy war.

"Needs to be sharper," Feyd whispered, tongue recoiling back with an audible wet noise into his freakish mouth, and spider—dark eyes framed in eerie blue squinted, peering right through you, "I can only see your eyes, Atreides," he spat, loathing behind your name, "but you tell me all I need to know."