we don't talk about this enough

Girls when they see a man in uniform

just a heads up

if you’re an active follower of mine, i do recognize your username and/or icon. i smile when i see it in my activity. i get excited when you add funny tags to things. i get really happy when you reblog my op posts. so thank you, i appreciate you massively.

i adore you long haired matthew lillard

I'm so surprised that more ppl don't do scp aus. Like the character as a Plague Doctor esque scp and the reader as a doctor/assistant/prisoner or even as another scp. Like... am I just a genius? A revolutionary of sorts?

steve has to console eddie for a week when he finds out their kids only like the sped up chipmunks version of corroded coffin songs

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 | |Feyd Rautha x reader 

CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader, Feyd Rautha x black!reader

Summary: On the eve of the psychotic Prince’s birthday, you gruesomely discover the truth about your purpose on Arrakis and how you fit into the beloved prophecy that has muddied the minds of your people. 

Warnings: DUNE PART II SPOILERS, mentions of violence, blood, sexual activity, bloodlines, angst, slowburn, enemies to lovers (one sided), Minors DNI

Taglist: @elf-punk @b-bradshaw @strengthandstay @dreamlandcreations @hellomothermoon @deadpool15 @lov4gor3 @fanfiction-addict22 @ifulovemetakemetothegastation @tian-monique @ertepla @ladyredstar1991 @cage7241 @mbjackie @just-here-to-readd @myheartfollower

If you’d like to be added to the list just let me know!

___

CHAPTER TWO

A WORLD UNKNOWN

Curiosity was not enough to distract you from the harshness of your new reality. 

The warrior in you was scolding and unforgiving. You had the opportunity of a millennium to strip the Baron of his most prized possession—his nephew—and in a moment of rebellion you chose to show him mercy. His people never extended any grace to yours. You had the power to inspire real change, to inflict a fraction of pain on your oppressors, and you let him slip away. 

The woman in you was more forgiving. More strategic and logical as opposed to snapping without a second thought. Say you had drained Feyd of his blood. The Na-Baron slain at the hands of his bride-to-be would have provided the Harkonnen’s justification to go against the prophecy. To retaliate against you and your family in forms of torture and fright that you hadn’t even imagined possible. Feyd would be a martyr. His legacy would forever be tied to you in the eyes of people who already held zero respect for Fremen. 

As difficult as it was to come to terms with, Feyd appeared to be the only hope you had for he held the power. 

He held your vitality in his blood-stained hands. 

Focusing on the women surrounding you uncomfortably, you allowed for them to show you the path around the castle. They guided you into your private chambers with black and grey monotone walls stifling you. The only thing resembling an ounce of brightness was the cream porcelain tub in the middle of the room. Giedi Prime contained no excitement. It was dull and dark, even with the warm climate you still felt shivers crawl across your body. Giedi Prime was the hue of the storms Paul would tell you and Chani stories about. This planet was so unalike Arrakis, which made your heart yearn for home even more. 

How quickly all of the light in your world was stolen with no remorse. 

A silver platter was placed in your vision. A handmaiden offering you a goblet of wine before retiring you to your bath. “Get that away from me.” You ordered, pushing the tray. The bouts of sadness returned to anger as you had no way out of this hellhouse. 

“My apologies, My Lady.” She said, shakiness in her voice. 

You took a breath, trying to remain composed. It was not her fault. “I apologize for my outburst. This is all very new for me.” She was as much of a victim in this as you. With no rights and no power, simply told who she was to be and who she was to serve. 

“No apologies necessary, My Lady.” She bowed her head. “We have your bath ready. Do you require assistance in your rituals?”

You protested, the luxuries of wait staff not appealing to you in the slightest. “No, it’s quite all right, I can bathe myself. You are dismissed, thank you.” 

The maidens bowed their heads once more. Returning to their single file line, they walked towards the outskirts of the room and stood at attention. Awaiting your next order or need. 

“You may leave the room.” You instructed. The women were silent, staring straight ahead as if they did not hear you. “Please.”

“The Na-Baron will not like that, My Lady. We are to stay within ten feet of you.” Another maiden spoke, scared to raise her voice above a whisper. 

Biting your lip nervously, you had nothing else to say. Asking them to disobey their leader was a death sentence that you could not request of them. Peeling the stained dress from your body, you gently stepped into the tub filled with rose water and oils. Even the aroma of Arrakis and the sand between your toes being forced away. You couldn’t recall the last time you had a proper bath, if ever, in your lifetime. Sitting in a tub of water that would be deemed a delicacy on your home planet made you feel guilty. Partaking in the spoils of your captor while your planet struggled in your absence. 

Holding your knees to your chest and covering your breasts, you allowed yourself to fully shatter. All in hopes that you would be able to build yourself back up again before returning to Feyd. Hollowed wails of frustration and uncertainty expelled from you as you struggled to catch your breath. 

It was frowned upon to waste water in your culture, in fact, it took you years to build up the ability to block melancholy. In times like these, of immense confusion and heartache, there was nothing else that you could do. 

Tears fell for Paul and the idea of his life being in danger, for your sister on Arrakis who was likely mourning you both, and for yourself—for the destiny you could not prepare for nor escape from.

You dunked your head into the tub, running your hands through your curly hair. Scraping the dirt and blood from your skin in an effort to make yourself presentable. The only option you were given was to accept and embrace this role of Princess of House Harkonnen, and for the peace of your people, you’d do anything. 

Numbly, you exited the bath. The handmaidens ready you with a silk robe, oils, and wrapped it around your body. Mindlessly, you followed them to your bed chambers and silently accepted the fate of the prophecy. Defeated, you stared at the material hung upon the armoire, taking it down from its hanger.

Behind it was a white gown, the most precious of pearls and crystals sewn into the bodice. You shuddered at the sight, trying to focus on anything in the room but the bright white fabric. The ladies dressed you, fastening your undergarments, and zipping up your dress. Another sprayed you with a fragrance similar to the smell of amber and Spice. 

The one thread of home that kept you sane. 

“You look beautiful, My Lady.” One of them said, giving you a small smile in the mirror. 

Looking at your reflection you felt unrecognizable. Your hair was situated into a loose braid down your back with curly pieces framing your face, the hood of your gown covering you. Long golden jewels adorned your ears, a display of wealth that was foreign to you. The brown satin corset hugged your waist, the dress flaring at the bottom as it met the ground. Beige heels pinched your feet, the ultimate symbol of abundance that must reflect upon the wife of the Na-Baron. 

With one final glance, you felt nothing but utterly out of place. Even the muted Earth tones scream of color in comparison to the faded world surrounding you. 

You were led down a dark corridor, two handmaidens placed in front of you and two behind. Even with the presence of others, you felt isolated and alone, a glimpse into what your life would be as Feyd’s bride. Anxiously, you followed their guidance to the skybox of the Colosseum, heart thudding loudly as you were placed to sit near the Baron and his staff. 

The air was thick. More daunting and dangerous than what you had known. There had to be thousands of spectators waiting and craving to be entertained by slaughter. The voices of many became deafening to your fragile ears that were accustomed to the silence of the desert. You did not speak, too uncomfortable among the odious being who has ruined countless lives. Someone so grotesque and disgusting that you wanted to throw up in his presence. You kept your composure and began to take your seat when suddenly a voice halted you. 

“Let me get a good look at you, girl.” The Baron ordered. 

You looked around nervously, pale men staring back like you were a piece of meat. With no other choice, you obeyed his command, walking over within the Baron’s direct line of sight. His eyes trailed from your feet to your chest, the final glance being in your blue eyes. He grimaced, taking a struggled breath before speaking again. 

“You’re beautiful for a Fremen girl.” He laughed. “Hopefully you will bear the strongest and purest of the Harkonnen bloodline. Maybe he’ll let you meet a better end than he did his mother.”

You nodded, retreating to your seat and trying to keep whatever was in your stomach down. What had Feyd done to his mother? Did she dare to defy him or challenge him beyond a way he deemed acceptable? How could anyone guide a sadistic man like him?

A handmaiden passed you a pair of binocular glasses so you could fully immerse yourself in the combat that was beginning to take place. You held the lenses close, able to see the faces of the three half-dead men entrapped with Feyd. 

Not one image of Paul Atreides in sight. 

He was safe, somewhere with your sister, and calming her down in your absence. 

The crowd roared in excitement at the sound of the blades crashing together. Feyd was an animalistic fighter who loved to taunt his prey before striking them down. His masochistic nature was one that he could relish fully with no consequence. The men perished quickly, leaving one to fend for himself. He was sober, according to what the pale men said behind you. While it brought concern for some, the Baron waved them off. 

As if by divine intervention or a twisted omen, the prisoner struck Feyd in the stomach. Your breath caught at the back of your throat. It was not a fatal blow, it could not have been. Feyd had built himself to be this untouchable figure, one that was loved and feared. If that was to not exist anymore…if he were to not exist anymore then what would that mean for you? 

Trapped on Geidi Prime without the one person who could keep his people in line. 

You shot up out of your seat, glasses hugged to your nose as you watched the final battle closely. Instead of doubling over in pain, the Na-Baron laughed manically. With the twirl of his knife, he drove it into the chest of the man he believed to be Paul Atreides. A smirk etched into his obsidian teeth knowing that you were watching him. The crowd cheered his name. His people chanted so excitedly at the visions of murder and massacre that it made you sick. 

People like this could not want peace, not when they thrived on the defeat of their enemies.  

Frustratedly, you gathered yourself and what dignity you could scrape together before walking to the exit. The Baron snapped his head in your direction, laughing with his subjects, as your departure was welcomed. 

“The rat does not like our customs.” You overheard one of the pale men say. 

You halted in your tracks, handmaiden’s eyes growing full of terror nearby. Getting a precise look at the scum and watching as he squirmed under your gaze, a devilish grin spread across your glossed lips.

He would be dealt with when the time was right. 

Picking your battles was the wisest thing you could act upon in the moment and the worthless footman to the Baron was not your focus—it was Feyd. 

The handmaidens followed you to your chambers. Watching anxiously as you paced the floors, awaiting for the Na-Baron to return. 

As time passed it felt like rage was burning your body. You could hear the fireworks and celebratory cheers from outside of the castle, all of it a complete disappointment. 

“He was informed that I wished to speak with him, yes?” You asked no one in particular.

One of the women nodded. “Yes, My Lady. The Na-Baron agreed to come right away.” 

“He is not moving fast enough for me.” You huffed. 

Gathering the bottom of your dress and making your way to the grand hall, hurriedly trying to find Feyd. Their quiet footsteps followed, not enough of a disturbance to cause you to lash out. The flashes of fireworks illuminated your pained features. The blue hues of your eyes mix with the only other colors painted on this planet. 

Down the grand hall, you could see a figure emerging. Dressed in the finest of his black traditional clothing, Feyd was making his way in your direction. He held two crystal goblets in his hands. The dark red liquid marked a celebratory splash to his successful ways as a gladiator. 

“Come to congratulate me, Desert Rose?” He questioned, that shit-eating grin only frustrating you more. 

You stopped, chest heaving in anger. “We need to speak privately.” You ordered. “Now.”

His smirk dropped, eyes cutting to the women behind you. “Have they done something to you?” He inquired coldly. 

“They have done nothing wrong.” You defended immediately, eyes focused on the contents of his hands.  

With little time for going back and forth, you grabbed a chalice from his grasp without another word. Turning on your heels, you knew he would follow after you with a sense of urgency upon seeing how irritated you were. You took a long gulp from your glass, wanting to feel anything beyond this sense of worry and hopelessness. You both returned to the chambers quickly and closed the door behind you. The handmaidens were instructed to stay, leaving you and Feyd in the quarters alone. 

“Why am I here?” You wasted no time in asking. Taking the last swallow of wine before setting the crystal down. 

Feyd chuckled softly. “The prophecy—”

“To hell with this prophecy! It means nothing!” You shouted, failing to keep your head clear. Your heart beating louder in your ears than it ever has before. “There are people on this planet who do not want peace, Feyd. Men who continue to call me a rat populate a large portion of who you govern. They will not care about a prophecy. You are a traitor to them.”

You took a step closer to him, big eyes begging that he understood you. Ultimately that was all you wanted, no, needed, was to be understood… especially by someone who was to be your husband. 

The only person here who knew what this prophecy stood for, what it all truly meant. 

Feyd remained quiet as if he were a child being scolded. His dominating nature flipped to submissive as his wife spoke. “Why is it imperative to you to liberate Arrakis? Your family has done everything they can to control us and now you want to undo centuries of damage.” You asked, voice softer.

The man was quiet. His eyes fixated on your exposed arms, he reached his hand out to run across your skin. Finding that it was hot to the touch. “Because it is yours…it belongs to you.”  

“And why are you so fascinated with me?” You tried pulling yourself from his grasp, feeling lightheaded when you did so. Perhaps you took too much wine at once. Feyd did not let you go, holding you closer to his toned body. “If the prophecy were never brought to your attention, y-you would be none the wiser about my existence.” You slurred. 

Feyd watched you, your quick difference in behavior and speech. He was sure it was the wine, how you most likely never had access to alcohol on Arrakis. “Because for the first time in my life, I can have something designed for me. Geidi Prime, Arrakis, the Harkonen Name, they were never mine, just a title I was born into. I have earned nothing, however, with you I can curate something of my own.” He grabbed your hand, placing your palm against his flesh right above his heart. “This, this beats for you and has ever since I was a child. Hearing stories of the girl on Arrakis brought me the same excitement as combat. I always wondered what you were doing within the time we spent apart. If you knew of who I was and how hard I tried to get to you.”

You could not focus. Your breaths are labored and almost a wheeze. You felt like you needed to panic and throw up all at once. You parted your lips to speak, nothing coming out except for a pained groan. The colorless walls began to fade even more, the light in your eyes dimming, and immediately catching Feyd’s attention. 

In a second, your unconscious body dropped, his arms prepared to catch you without a second thought. “Y/N?” He called your name in disbelief, shaking you slightly to wake you. With his free hand, he held two fingers to the side of your neck, a pulse barely there and diminishing rapidly. His focus caught on the wine glass momentarily, the tiny residue of undissolved poison hanging onto the bottom of the glass. “Y/N!” 

Feyd scooped you into his arms, using his leg to kick open the door of your chambers. The handmaidens gasped at the sight of your body, all of them struggling to remember the protocol for instances like this. “Don’t just stand there! The princess has been poisoned.” He ordered, the women quickly regaining composure. “One of you go grab the chalices and the others follow me. No, one of you go call for the Doctor as well. Now!”

He began running down the corridor as fast as he could. He was trained to think quickly on his feet, but, your life being put in danger because of him threw all of his instruction to the side. He was unable to operate in a way that a Na-Baron would. Feyd was thinking as a lover, as someone fearful of losing their person. 

All he could think of was how you were correct, that possibly the Harkonnen name being attached to a Fremen girl would not be enough to inspire peace across the planets. 

He can come take apart fix my lamp anytime

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 | Feyd Rautha x reader 

Pairing: Feyd Rautha x reader, Feyd Rautha x black!reader

Summary: On the eve of the psychotic Prince’s birthday, you gruesomely discover the truth about your purpose on Arrakis and how you fit into the beloved prophecy that has muddied the minds of your people. 

Warnings: DUNE PART II SPOILERS, mentions of violence, blood, sexual activity, bloodlines, angst, slowburn, enemies to lovers (one sided), Minors DNI

Taglist: @elf-punk @b-bradshaw @strengthandstay @dreamlandcreations

If you’d like to be added to the list just let me know!

___

CHAPTER ONE

THE DARK PRINCE & DESERT ROSE

“What did I instruct you to do?”

The voices around you were fuzzy. There was no amount of energy in the world that could keep your eyes open as they grew louder and louder in command. 

There was a fight in the dead of nightfall, you could recall that much. Chani woke you up, rushing from Paul’s tent to yours and telling you to grab as much stuff as you could. The smell of sand, the smell of your home, burning around you was intense and thick.

She grabbed your hand, telling you to stay close, but she underestimated how horrible the attack would become. It was the Harkonnen’s doing. Firing away at your camp in the middle of the night was not their style, but, in guerilla warfare, there were no rules. 

It was conquer or be conquered. 

Paul did his best to keep the Harkonnen soldiers away, however, they were becoming too much for even him to handle alone. 

“Get far away from here. Stay out of their line of sight.” You remember your sister saying. Her hands roughly on your exposed shoulders before placing a carved blade in your hands. “Fight like hell if you need to. Do not let them take you!”

“But—“

Chani shook her head. “Do as I say.” She ducked at the sound of a nearby explosion. Her blue eyes grew wider in fear for her sister’s life. “Go, NOW!” 

You had to have run away, you thought. That’s why your legs felt as if you had been sprinting for years with no rest. That was all you could remember, everything else proving to be foggy in your mind. Your arms were held above your head, shackled to a cold concrete wall against your barely clothed body. There was a slight trickle of something running down your temple, so much so that it tickled against your skin. Was that blood?

“You instructed us to extract the Fremen girl from her camp, Na-baron—“

“Without harm!” Someone hollered, a man, shutting down his subjects immediately. You felt your head fling backward, a hand on your neck exposing your face to the light. “She is bleeding. Her face has been sliced and it was at your hand.”

Your eyes flutter open, getting a small glimpse at who was manhandling you. His powdered skin appeared smooth. Eyes dark and brooding as you matched his gaze. There had been whispers on Arrakis about the Baron’s nephew. His mental instability mixed with his thirst for blood proved him to be one of the most ruthless of the Harkonnen. Completely surpassing any reputation his family laid for centuries before. 

Then it clicked for you. 

You must be at the mercy of the Harkonnen clan, the very entities who had oppressed your people for hundreds of years. There was plenty of speculation about what they did to Fremen women in their clutches, things so horrific that you prayed you would die before confirming the suspicions.

“The rat took out four of our men, your highness. Stabbed one of our soldiers through their shield.”

With a swift motion, your head was released from the man’s grasp. Outstretching his arm, his blade pierced the pale skin of his soldier in the throat. “GET OUT!” He screamed, the few soldiers retreating to the exit of wherever you were being held. 

The room now only held the two of you. Your senses and adrenaline suddenly reignited as fright tried to set in. The pale man turned himself to face you once more. Tears brimmed your eyes and you tried your best to not allow them to fall. You had already been captured, you refused to appear any more weak in his presence. If he knew how scared you were of him, it would only fulfill the sick obsession he had with your people.

His movements were snakelike as he approached you, setting the blade down nearby so both of his hands were free. You took in his physique, how he moved like a hunter and you were believed to be his prey. Based on your short encounter with him, you knew the rumors were true. That this nephew of the Baron would surely be a living nightmare for as long as you were alive and captive.

You possessed little mobility, your arms tied but your legs and torso free. With all of your strength, you attempted to kick him in the chest only to be met with failure. Your attack was faulted by his hand clenching your sand-dusted ankle. He held it momentarily, glancing at your foot with a smirk, before letting you go. 

“My name is Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen.” He introduced, slithering from the reach of another attack by you. His torso touches against your side, the burning sensation of his skin meeting yours and running down the side of your face. His index finger wipes away the stray blood streamlining down your temple. Against your will, you let out a scared whimper. His proximity to you being the cause of your rapid heart rate. “Shh. Shh, little mouse. It is alright.”

You took a shaky breath. “Stealing me from my home in the dead of night and you dare say that I am alright? With you?” 

“You were to be brought to me unharmed.” He repeated in amusement. You were not frightened enough to be mute. There was a fire within the pits of your belly just waiting to be ignited. Feyd could feel the warmth begging to burn him. “I only want the best for you, Karama.”

Karama? A Harkonnen likening you to a miracle made your stomach lurch. Your body didn’t know whether to be in shock or for your adrenaline to continue to spike. Breathing was becoming irregular as you found the air stifling. His closeness sending shockwaves all over you.

Struggling to remove his hand from your face, you turned your cheek away from him in spite. “What do you want with me, Feyd?”

“Today is my birthday.” The man took a step back, eyes trailing your chest and hips in all of its natural glory. You were still in your beige nightgown, tattered and covered in soldier blood. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. “I was told that I could have anything I desired, and for this special day, I only requested two things:” He stood in front of you, craving an ounce of your attention. “To kill Paul Atreides and to have you in my possession.”

Your blue eyes found themselves back in his line of sight. Did they capture Paul? If they had him then surely they had your sister. Chani was somewhere locked in this castle as well and there was nothing you could do to help her. 

“Where is my sister?” You asked, nostrils flared with an insurmountable level of rage. “Where is Chani?!”

Feyd grinned, the sight of you angry with him making him feel intense forms of pleasure. “She is on the run with the rest of your people, I assume. My intention was never to harm them—”

“Harkonnen’s have been responsible for the enslavement of my people for longer than you nor I could fathom.” You hissed. “All you know is bloodshed and madness.”

Feyd loomed closer, his fingers inching toward your waist but you successfully kicked his hand away in this instance. The attack was not enough to prevent him from trying again. The mere blessing of your skin on top of his sent him into a frenzy. It would be the most he could touch you for the next twenty four hours or so. He was unable to control himself around you. He could not wait to get his hands against your tanned skin and fill every inch of you with his seed.

His rough palm found its way wrapped around your body, pulling you close, and your breath hitched. Mere centimeters from each other’s faces and he held no intentions of letting you go so soon. Feyd took a deep breath, the scent of Spice and sweat radiating off of you like the finest perfume jewels could buy.

“There have been whispers of you being a great fighter.” He stated lowly, dangerously close to your barely covered breasts. “You must recognize that you will no longer need to fight against me or my people. That the beginning of unity is in our hands, Y/N.”

“There will never be peace as long as you continue to hunger for the control of Spice.” You huff, pulling against your restraints with all of your might, the leather digging into your flesh. 

Feyd unwinded his grasp from your body. Letting out a groveling chuckle. The man tilts his head curiously, finding any excuse to continue laying his eyes upon your beauty. “Surely you understand what the prophecy states—“

“What prophecy?” You interrupted. 

Feyd studies you. The hyperactivity of your hands begging to break free, your eyes flickering between him and the exit, the beads of stress rolling down your forehead … you were frightened by him and for once in his life, the feeling brought him no contentment.

You’re a smart young woman, that he knew to be true. So to see your eyes full of wonder and confusion proved that you truly were none the wiser. 

“You do not know?” He inquired, already anticipating the answer. “You do not know who you are?” 

“I am Y/N Kynes of the Fremen people. That is who I am!” You raised your voice. Not wanting your last moments to be full of fear in trying to please the madman. No matter how panicked you felt.

A hand tightly gripped your chin, holding your focus level with his. “And you are to be my wife,” His free hand hovering over your stomach, fingers grazing the exposed flesh from the rips in your nightgown. “the mother of my child.” Feyd could not hide his smile, even in the face of your perplexities. “I have heard of this prophecy for years. A man from a great house will marry a Fremen woman, fall in love, and produce a son, combining the two feuding entities into a house of peace and prosperity for all.”

“You must have me mistaken for I cannot be your betrothed.” You protested, wriggling from his grasp. 

Feyd released your face. Tracking your every movement with his eyes. “The woman will have the strengths of a seasoned warrior.” He continued to recite. “She will possess the blinding essence of the sun to all she encounters and she will have a birthmark that resembles...”

He walked calmly to your side. Moving the delicate fabric of your nightgown to reveal what sealed his fate and yours. “the crescent moon.” Feyd nodded, pleased that he finally had you to himself. “I could not wait for you. I had heard of your existence for all of this time and my heart refused to see another day pass without you by my side.” 

“H-How did you know that was there?” You trembled, tears falling from your cheeks. 

“For it was written.” His thumb ran across your face, collecting the tears and sucking the salty liquid from his finger. “The prophecy has existed for longer than you nor I can fathom. A tale as old as time itself.” He teases, using your own words against you. “Don’t you wish for peace, little mouse?”

You nodded. “Of course I do. But no one informed me that this was my duty to my people.”

“Someone in your life did not wish for me to have your hand. Perhaps your sister you speak of?” Feyd sucked his teeth, disappointment riddled on his features. “As did many within mine, which is why they are no longer breathing. I vowed that I would stop at nothing to find you, Y/N, and now that that time is finally here…I suggest you become comfortable with the prophecy.” 

Taking his blade, he began to slice each restraint from your wrists, your arms falling at your side. Wasting no time you let your leg kick his forearm. The blade in air for only a few seconds, however, enough to allow it to now be within your possession. Using his own defenses against him, you tried as hard as you could to make the blade meet his throat.

Feyd was mentally thrown. No one had dared to attack him, much less engage in hand to hand combat before. The few hits you did land upon him were simply due to ill preparedness. The smallest of guards within him being let down simply because of who you are.

Switching the blade to your non dominant hand, you used your elbow to bash into his chest. The Na-Baron stumbled briefly before letting out a laugh. He reached for a handful of your hair, curling it around his fist and forcing you to look at him.

“Is this how you like to play, Desert Rose?” He asked. Nothing in his eyes or demeanor saying he was frightened by you. This was all entertainment for him and his sadistic mind. “Let us play then.”

Growling, you rammed your already fragile head into his. Eliciting enough of a shock to force him into releasing his grip. You allowed your eyes to linger on his legs for far too long. Feyd was unfazed and steady on calculating your next move. Delighted when he saw you going to sweep at his feet.

He caught your ankle, twisting it enough to not cause pain but deter your plans. You fell to floor with a thud. Your back pressed against stone as his body landed on top of yours. Without a second thought, you raised the bloodied blade to his neck. Panting while trying to catch your breath.

Kissing the cool metal to his porcelain skin but not enough pressure to draw blood. Feyd’s eyes went wide. The only time you had seen fear from someone who instilled so much in others. The clear answer was to kill him. You were seconds away from doing so, why hadn’t you followed through?

Doubt plagued you.

Could he be lying about the prophecy? How would he have known about your birthmark? 

“Fight like hell if you need to. Do not let them take you!”

Chani’s last words rang in your psyche. Why was your safety so much more important beyond that of other Fremen? Why would that particular string of words be so imperative that your sister had to utter them to you?

“If you kill me prematurely, how will I come to show you all of the ways I was designed to please you?” Feyd spoke, breaking your chain of thought.

Still holding the blade, you licked your lips nervously. There was still so much you needed to know. So many questions you had that he seemed to be the only one with the answers.

“Get off of me and I will spare your life.” You commanded, convincing him that you still remained in control.

As you wished, he retreated from your figure. Extending a paled hand to his future wife and hoping that you did not see nor feel his arousal from the act of simply laying on top of you. With heavy breaths, you threw the blade to the other side of the room. Safe from his and your possession.

“You are an absolute vision when you’re upset.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “Then I believe it is not far off to say that I will be the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your lifetime.”

“And what kind of man would I be to argue with facts?”Feyd snapped his fingers together and four bald women entered the room in a singular line. “These are your handmaidens. They have drawn you a bath and laid out fresh clothing for you.” Feyd said, cutting his eyes in their direction. “Show her the same respect you show me. A scratch or bruise found on her body earns you death, understood?”

“Yes, Na-Baron.” They spoke in sync. 

“If you’ll excuse me, My Dear.” He licked his lips, straining not to reach out and bring your body closer to his again. “I have a performance to prepare for.”

Feyd turned on his heels, heading for the exit before calling out one more time. “She is to be ready within the hour.”

You stood in the silence. The women staring at you with horror etched into the fabric of their minds. The Na-Baron was terrifying just on his own accord. Now, his Princess, his most prized possession beyond Arrakis, was entrusted with them. You couldn’t even begin to understand what was happening before you.

The prophecy could not have been fabricated. Granted, his soldiers could have informed him of your birthmark, but that appeared unlikely. Feyd wanted you to himself in every sense, just a mere scratch to your head landed his soldier in death. Instructing them to view your body within its indecency would never happen. 

In terms of what could be done, there was nothing. Your stomach tossing and turning before forming knots of panic. You were to be Feyd’s wife and the weight of the freedom of your people rested in your hands. 

It was to be married to the bachelor of darkness or to be complacent to the murder of more Fremen souls. 

While it was the most difficult pill to swallow, you were in the beginning stages of accepting your fate. Your entire life has been in preparation for you to be the Princess of the House of Harkonnen—and only now were you learning of your purpose.

Even with a million concerns roaming your mind, the biggest factor if it all revolved around Chani and how much she knew of this infamous prophecy.

from "Evolutions" by photographer Summer Wagner

Mike Faist as Danny Lyon in The Bikeriders trailer // Sept 2023

SALTBURN 2023 — dir. Emerald Fennell