She thought saw

a flash

flicker

and then gone. She saw

His warmth radiates

arms hold her to him

and she tries to nestle in

closer

never enough

his soft breathing

against the back of her head

She tries to sleep

but her heart

pounds

she lies still

There were claws

where his fingers should be.

The hum of the heater

lulls her to

dreaming of sunlight

streaming through

the windows of a fortress.

She stands looking out

as yellow leaves

fall

she is alone

but she feels the world turning

faster

she can sense him searching

in the darkening woods

she will wait for him here

she folds the cloak

she's been wearing

and moves to set it down

before she knows that

she's cold

The Princess woke up shivering. Her husband was still lying on his side, and she stood as quietly as she could, walking through the bathchamber to the commode. She retched. She wasn't pregnant – she'd made sure of that – so it must have been the stress. Irulan was wide awake, and the thought of returning to that bed filled her with a sense of such indescribable dread, that her stomach clenched down on itself. She was panting on her knees before the toilet. The image of him – of his naked back in the bed next to her – sent a feeling of revulsion through her body, and with a painful cramp, she heaved up the acidic remnants of her dinner. She lay down for a moment, feeling the cool marble against her overheated flesh. She closed her eyes.

It was time to think – time to plan. From the moment she'd arrived on Ghiedi Prime, Irulan had been scrambling to orient herself to surroundings that seemed to shift every time she turned her head.

She needed to get out of his apartments. Her clothes still lay on a pile on the ground. She needed to dress and walk past him without waking him. She hadn't remembered him locking his bedchamber door, but if he had, she would need to take her clothes back off and get in the bed with him. Perhaps she could take a bath.

Better than getting in the bed with him.

There were many things she could fixate on, but what bothered her most in that moment was the sex. She had willingly accepted him into her body – had asked him to kiss her.

She slowly got to her feet, feeling the nausea return. She willed it back down and walked back into the room with the basin, located her frock, and pulled it over her head.

But when she returned to the bedchamber, he was gone. The door opened, and Irulan took an instinctive step back, but where she'd expected to see Feyd-Rautha, she saw the kind face of her handmaiden.

"Soline," said the Princess.

"My lady," said the girl, "I'm to take you to meet the dressmaker. After lunch, I'll show you to your new quarters." Right. She had requested them.

"Where is the Baron?"

"He didn't tell me where he was going – just to accompany you to the shop."

"Thank you."

"I see you're already dressed. Is there anything else you need before we set out?"

"No," said Irulan. "Let's go," and followed the girl into the hallway, which still looked like night but no longer shimmered. Why had she wanted him? She supposed her reaction was natural. Tenderness from one she feared would no doubt elicit feelings of relief, but after all her years of training, she had thought she'd be immune to such animal instincts… then again, she reasoned to herself, those animal instincts had quite possibly saved her life. Her stoicism appeared to anger him. Her humanity, it seemed, elicited a positive response. She knew she was treading a dangerous path. To abandon her teachings was unthinkable, but she knew she would need to –

On second thought, she wasn't sure what she needed to do. Vesryn, she hoped, could give her some direction – not that she'd discuss any of this with him – that was unthinkable – but he seemed to see her clearly during their initial meeting – perhaps he would teach her something new about herself.

"My lady," said the dressmaker, bowing his head, though Irulan could have sworn she saw a slight smirk tugging at his lips. The entrance of the shop reminded Irulan of her own quarters. Perhaps there was more of a work room behind the back door.

"Vesryn," she said. "I didn't expect you to have something to show me so quickly."

"Don't get too excited." Said the dressmaker. He was smiling openly now, and she wondered what he'd look like with hair. "You might hate everything I've made for you."

"Well let's see it then," said the Princess, grinning back despite herself. "If it's going to be that bad, there's no use dragging it out."

"What would you like to see first?" he asked, "The gown you think you want or the gown I think you'll like better?"

"You seem very sure of yourself," said Irulan. "What makes you so confident?"

"I've made it all the way here, haven't I?"

"This is your show," said the Princess. "Why don't you tell me what to try on first."

"I'll tell you what: let's see what you like and dislike on the hangers."

"If that's how you wish to proceed."

"Follow me."

Despite the black walls of the work room, bolts of red fabric and the various machines added visual interest. An industrial rack to the side of the room held the sampling of gowns.

"That's the one, isn't it?" asked Irulan, pointing, after she had a chance to inspect them all.

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm a bit afraid of it."

"Are you?"

"It's transparent."

"It's translucent."

"I'm not used to wearing anything translucent."

"All you have to do is try it on. If you don't like it, we can make adjustments to it. Or we can abandon it completely."

"That is the one though, right? The one you said you think I'll like the most."

Vesryn merely smiled at her, shaking his head.

"It is, isn't it?"

"I'll tell you at the end of our appointment. But first, I want to know what you think. What you actually think, and not just what you think I want to hear. I've thrown a couple of wildcards into the mix, and so I don't expect you'll like everything," and then he added, "It's very hard to hurt my feelings."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Why don't we start with this one," he said, selecting a dark red gown with long sleeves and a slim cut out down the front.

"Sure," said Irulan, taking it from him and stepping behind the divider as her thoughts drifted to her father. When Irulan was a child, he taught her how to play chess. At first, he had beaten her, but before long, she was able to hold her own. In those first few months, she was playing the game defensively – responding to his moves and eventually anticipating them. Only after practice did she learn to make plans of her own. And then she learned set traps. Feyd tried to kill her, yes, but more importantly, he had disrespected her. She may have been his wife, but as daughter of the Emperor, he was below her in station. She could build a strategy around that. Though she'd need to bolster it with something else – threats against his ascendency hadn't worked in the tub.

Irulan looked at herself in the mirror. The gown she wore was modest aside from a thin line of exposed flesh between her breasts. Aside from this cut out and the dark red color, the dress reminded Irulan of what she was accustomed to wearing on Kaitain. Vesryn had taken her preferences into account, though he'd made it more grown-up. Sexier.

"This is the dress you think I want," she said, as she inspected her reflection.

"Let me see it."

"I need help with the back," she replied as she walked out from behind the screen to stand in front of him. "What do you think?"

He walked past her to fasten the buttons around her neck before returning to his spot to stare at her, inspecting her as if she were a work of art – not really there – an absolute lack of self-consciousness in the way that his eyes roamed over her body. He was pondering the clothes, not what she'd look like out of them.

"What do you think?" he asked. He was with her again.

"I think…" she began and then stopped.

"Go on."

"I don't know."

"If you don't know, it's not for you," he replied, "but I'd like to know why."

"I feel…" she stopped to think. If he had flirted with her earlier, he wasn't flirting now. The problems of artistry held far more weight than any interest between them. "I don't know. It reminds me of what I'm used to wearing. I was expecting to feel different."

Vesryn nodded. And then he smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that." His dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Was I right about the other one?"

"Would you like to try it on?"

"Yes"

He took it off the rack of gowns and hung it behind the folding screen. "Let me know if you need help with the buttons."

"Can you?"

"Of course," he said, and she turned to face the screen, drawing her hair over her shoulder. His fingers didn't linger against her skin, and she knew it was unwise to wonder what they'd feel like if they had. Irulan walked back behind the partition and let the dress pool around her feet. The crimson chiffon gown hung before her, and she reached out to touch it. Like the first dress, it had a button clasp at the back of the neck. Undoing it, she slid it off the hanger. There were more buttons at the waistline – she could do those herself. She stepped into it and put her arms through the openings alongside the front of the bodice. With one hand, she held the back of the neck closed so she could see the final effect in the mirror before asking for assistance with the fastening.

Her lips parted as she stared at herself. The high neck of the gown compensated for the sheerness of the fabric. It was indeed translucent but only just so, as the deep red helped to obscure her from view. She saw the faint hint of her nipples peeking through – visible enough to look intentional and subtle enough to remain mysterious. "I love it," she said without needing a moment to think. "I thought I would hate it, but I love it."

"Let me see you," said Vesryn, and she walked back out so he could fasten the buttons behind her neck. When he finished, he backed away from her, and she turned to face him. The fire in his eyes made her stomach drop. He was looking at her now and not just the gown, as if the two had become inseparable.

"What do you think?" she asked.

"It suits you."

"You knew it would."

"Yes"

"How?"

"You're a Bene Gesserit," he said turning from her, "so you're used to wearing veils."

"Yes"

"I didn't want to cover your hair – it's what separates you from the rest of us."

Vesryn walked over to his worktable and opened the top drawer. Inside lay an ornate metal headpiece. He took it out and returned to her, placing it over her scalp so that the filigreed halo rested against the back of your head. He stepped back to admire his work. Originally, he'd reminded Irulan of Thalassa, but now she could see a resemblance between him and her master dresser on Kaitain.

"Look at yourself," he said softly. "I want to know what you think."

Irulan stepped back behind the folding screen before drawing in a breath. "I don't know what to say other than that I never could have envisioned anything like this. I was afraid it would look obscene but in fact it looks the opposite: you've turned me into a Saint of the ancients."

"You're no ordinary Sister."

What could she possibly say to that? Nothing wise, so she held her tongue, but she smiled to herself behind the safety of the divider. "What would you like me to try on next?"

"Nothing," replied Vesryn. "We're done for today. The others were just backups."

"You worked hard creating backups."

"It's the nature of the job, my lady, and I have a team at my disposal. Now that I know we're on the same page, the real work begins."

"I see," she said, turning to admire her exposed back in the mirror, and the long, burgundy train that wrapped in front of her.

"I'm looking forward to it." And he was – she could hear it in his voice.

"Do you need the dress back, or can I wear it out?"

"It's all yours, my lady."

She smiled again.

Her new quarters looked exactly the same as her old ones. So be it, Irulan thought to herself, as she approached her bed, before then she spotted the one key difference: her transcriber sat on the bedside table. She immediately went to it, excitement filling her chest as she greeted her old friend, before she felt an ache of homesickness. She would write to her father tonight. Hearing from him would do a lot to ease her mind.

The door opened behind her, and she turned toward the intrusion.

"These quarters are temporary," said Feyd-Rautha, who was lingering at the entrance. "Your other requests will take some time."

"Thank you," said Irulan, not knowing what else to say. She hadn't expected him to listen to any of her requests. What could be the reasoning behind it? Had he grown fond of her, or was he trying to throw her off? She noticed his eyes glance down at her breasts before darting back up to her face.

"I'll have to have a talk with Master Xalikar," he rasped.

"You don't like it."

"I'd like to see it on the floor."

She reached behind herself to struggle with the buttons, as he watched her from the doorframe. "I might need your help," she said, resisting the impulse to flatten her speech. Was he beautiful or was he frightening? The answer seemed to shift hour by hour.

"Turn around."

She did, though she listened for his footsteps. She wasn't sure if she preferred his absence or proximity. Both were unnerving. She felt his calloused fingers against her skin and thought to herself how strange it was for a Baron to have the hands of an ordinary worker, before he slid the dress off her shoulders and it fell to the ground. She waited.

"Turn to face me, my darling," he rasped, and she did, feeling herself stiffen as she met his gaze.

As much as she'd dreaded it that morning, the sex was easy enough to endure. He took her as gently as he could, but she could tell he wanted it rough. It was surprising how quickly she'd learned to read his body. He only trembled when he held himself back, and she could feel him shaking on top of her as she watched herself in the mirror above them. The gold headpiece dug into the back of her skull, but she liked how she looked in it. "Do what you need to do, darling," she said, and he hit her in the face. She closed her eyes, embracing the pain as a part of her.

"Look at me," he growled, and she did. "I could kill you right now." He put a hand on her throat and squeezed lightly, goading her, but her heartbeat remained steady. The intensity she'd felt toward him the previous night felt far away. If he killed her now, so be it.

"You can," she said softly, "But you won't."

His eyes widened, and she saw he was afraid. Not of her – or at least – not just of her – of himself and of what he might do.

He flipped her onto her belly and fucked her roughly from behind. For the entirety of their marriage, Irulan had felt like water, but now as he took her, she became his anchor in the storm – a stable witness while he surged inside of her – a container for him to spill into when he lost himself to pleasure. When it was over, he rolled off of her, and Irulan waited on her stomach until she heard the door close behind him.