XXII: The Wrong Place
Feyd ordered breakfast a second time in my chambers. The spread presented to me as my meal was equally disappointing as the first. I stared at a pair of bulged eyes atop a long scaly fish, pickled eggs, mushed bean paste, and a Harkonnen favorite, pickled eyes.
My stomach soured to the point of pain as I observed each selection.
"What is this that you have served me?" I scowled.
If he was still trying to amend the fracture in our relationship, this was not aiding him.
"Your staff used to serve you some of these things. To ensure you were healthy. Now that we know for sure, you should feed your body what it needs before it withers away. You are so small."
"My staff did not feed me eggs or eyes, Feyd."
"We had to be subtle then."
My hands dropped the teacup to the table. "You have plotted with my staff."
He shrugged. "It was more of a hint that you would be with child soon and to take extra care."
Yet another reminder of his betrayal.
I begrudgingly ate the beans and eggs - though it was a struggle to swallow the egg once its chewy texture touched my tongue. The fish and eyes were pushed to him. My nose could not bear the smell. The idea of eating them was…unbearable.
"Just how long did you intend to hide this from me?" I questioned between swallows of cooked oats and grains. His eyes followed the motions of my utensils, which tempted my urge to yell.
"You're so beautiful when you're angry," he marveled like a smitten puppy.
I frowned. "I do not feel beautiful when I feel like this. It's disgusting and the only thing I want to do is make it disappear."
"Good, isn't it?"
Both of my hands slammed down.
"No. It's not good, Feyd." I shook my head. "How can you adore this emotion? I'm so sick and tired and feel slimey. Is this how you want to feel forever?"
He read my face for a moment, and the awe was promptly tucked away.
He propped a palm against the tabletop as he spoke. "Explain it to me."
"If you don't understand it-."
"I don't," he interjected. "But I want to. I see it vexes you. That is not what I want to make you feel. I'm a man of pleasures."
I rolled my eyes. Leave it to him to bring it back to that topic.
"I don't need reminding," I sighed.
"Your pleasures." He smirked. "My lady is the only one I pleasure. Now tell me, why pain is not good? How does it feel to you? It is an agony to endure, but there is no sudden relief when it's done that excites you?"
Pain.
It was the only language he spoke.
But, that was pain he survived. Pain, he endured.
That high, I could understand. It was not for me.
But, with how little true connection he had to people, what did it matter if people were in pain? In fact, their pain meant only good things for him. He was rewarded, praised. As I considered it now, I saw how he associated killing someone as a task done to receive a reward.
Eventually, the rewards ran dry. The wants diminished, and the void still demanded feeding.
I knew that reality all too well.
A breath slipped through my pursed lips. Floods of fear - now loose from the containment I'd kept them locked away in for so long - injected into my blood. I felt its hot ice all throughout me. The desire to run, to scream, to close my eyes and pretend it all away.
Feyd deserved to learn it from someone. Even if it was too late to feel.
"Did you feel pleasure when your uncle…" My throat was too taut to finish that filthy statement.
The thought alone made me sick.
He did not jump to anger as I expected him to. A mere trained indifference filtered through.
As a well-trained survivor knew to do.
"No," he said.
"So, it was pain?"
He nodded. Hollowly.
"You didn't enjoy that pain," I stated.
The young na-Baron shifted in his seat. His throat flexed taut and loose as he considered my words. "No," he finally revealed.
"How did it make you feel? It was not just pain alone, was it. There were other things you felt, and still feel. When you think of it, I bet, it floods back like no time has passed at all. Those emotions overwhelm you, don't they?"
The power of his dark eyes was unmatched to any other look prior. Feyd stared at me like I'd peered in through his soul to the this he long kept drowned in the dark.
We finally understood one another.
Animals of the same flesh. Mangled and torn. Our furs weren't as pretty, and our outlook was far more cautious than needed. But instinct. It drove us. It was the only saving grace we had.
And it led to each other.
Feyd cleared his throat. "Disgust."
"What else," I pressed.
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do."
"Something like," he murmured. "Shame, I think is what it's called."
It was silly, the tears that flooded my vision. I'd known of the abuse. It was no castle secret. The staff talked. Nobles talked worse.
The Baron himself seemed unashamed of his interest in his young nephew. He marveled over his body, had Feyd show off his physique, commented on his beautiful mouth. Every piece of Feyd was made a spectacle for him to lust after in plain sight.
It made me sick to watch Feyd go through the motions, dead-eyed, as he was objectified by that disgusting man. I would force my eyes to remain open, but not see. To spare myself the disgust of what might happen when Feyd sat alongside that nasty man.
I nodded. "Disgust and shame are what I feel when I think of him, too."
He plucked a clear bottle of water. He drank until he could not physically swallow anymore.
We were in his nightmares now. He was fighting - and losing.
"Did you feel powerless?"
"Yes," he replied in a sudden strength. "No one would stop him. No one cared. Not one tried. I was on my own."
"That is what pain feels like for everyone, Feyd. That. That is pain."
Feyd was triggered to a deep shock. He moved and fidgeted around until he had to stand up and pace his emotions away.
I allowed him that moment.
Just one.
"That is exactly how I felt when I was impregnated without permission."
He stopped short.
"Mintha, don't -."
"You hurt me, Feyd. You hurt me so deep. You didn't even ask!"
His face fell. "I did not think you knew."
"More the reason to talk about it. Ask. We are together all the time. You could have asked how it would feel to have a child added to it, and I would have told you how I felt."
"My intentions have been clear. You are the lady of my house. There is no other whom I trust with my life as I trust you. How could you not know? I'm going to make you an Empress!"
I scoffed. "You will tire of me before then."
"Tire?" He shook his head and looked at the floor. The tips of his boots dragged against the metal tile flooring. The grimace on his lips was wretched. My stomach twisted at the unknown expression that I could not decipher in that moment.
"I did not even know what love was until I met you," Feyd said gently.
The revelation brought a strong silence along with it.
I did not know what to say. My mind barely processed the words. It would grind to a halt. "Impossible!" It'd declare.
More so, I felt that statement deeper.
I recognized it.
These feelings I had were not ones I understood. The word, love, I knew, in theory. But in truth, I'd not known what it felt like either.
Before him.
That made it all so much worse. He was a monster that did horrid things. He murdered and slaughtered and tortured at the end of his blade. The destruction he aided, well because he was not truly in charge. He followed orders. He survived. It was not his decision to embrace that side of his familial duty.
Instinct to survive. That was what made him what he was.
A devastating, calculated animal.
One who got me pregnant against all logical thought because he…wanted a family. Even with the awful life he led, he wanted to know what it meant to be normal.
I fought back sobs. They came out of nowhere - again!
"I know, Feyd."
A distance was in his eyes, swimming in their murky pools, when he met my gaze. "I don't like this feeling."
"Good. It's good for you to learn this now before you become a father."
"So, we are going to keep our daughter."
"I'll carry the child, yes."
He closed the distance between us. Two hands lovingly grasped the sides of my face. His lips pushed kisses all over my cheeks, my forehead, lips. I was coated in his affection, wordless and pleading on his part.
Perhaps, being a father would be the role he was meant for.
I smiled slightly. A small infant in his massive arms as he spoke endlessly about fighting technique. He could go on for hours about that kind of stuff. Poor baby would have no choice but to listen to its father list every evasion there was to a frontal assault. Not that the baby would mind. The sound of its father's voice would be calming, I assumed. It was a piece of itself, the thing it came from.
It had to recognize its own kind.
Even then, as an infant that barely understands its surroundings. The one thing it would know was its own safety, a creature alike in smell and comfort, that it would know just who Feyd was.
Our allotted time for first meal ran over. We were late to the morning Witan.
My arm stayed looped within Feyd's close to his person as we strolled through the room. The advisors greeted us both by our noble title. Their black shadowy bodies bowed one by one.
There was a new face added to their congregation.
"Lord Bondar." Feyd greeted.
"The lord na-Baron. I was honored to receive the invitation for your advisory board."
"I could use your knowledge."
Feyd led me to my position on his left side before. He took the head of the table.
The lord was not done schmoozing. He turned his attentions to me next. "Lady Witch. Your face is a welcome one. When you fell ill at the party, I grew concerned you were unwell."
"She was fed something spoiled," Feyd explained away with the quick wit that I'd almost forgotten lurked below his surface. "The slave responsible has been disposed of."
"Justice." Lord Bondar smiled.
Amusement rippled through the advisors.
The interest in me, personally, was a significant change from the rest of the advisors who remained silent in my presence. They spoke to Feyd. Only Feyd. I was largely ignored in meetings unless Feyd demanded my input.
Lord Bondar differed. He talked more, while the others were talked at. Feyd allowed this advisor to show more personality than the other ones expressed.
Whether the others lacked personality beyond the job, or they were forbidden from showing it, I did not know.
"So, my lady, I am new to these delegations. Tell me. What duties has the na-Baron assigned you?" Lord Bondar asked in a dead calm.
Witan was nearing completion. Orders of the day were given, tasked. The advisors tapped away on their own projected screens with words and numbers and communications.
The question dropped like a serious silence. An entire room fell to intensity.
Feyd's dark eyes flicked to me quickly as he gauged the question's impact.
I forced my body still in my position. "I keep the na-Baron's schedule."
He feigned interest. "Oh. I see."
"Would you like me to prove it?" I asked without intent to let him answer. "Tonight, he'll be in his chambers keeping me warm. Tomorrow night, same thing. The night after, perhaps we'll have a little dinner then he'll keep me warm again."
The lord nodded. "A one-sided schedule."
"Lord Bondar, you'll find that we are seldom apart. So, whatever the duties the na-Baron oversees, I am alongside him."
Feyd restrained a grin. He shuttered to a very indifferent look at the lord now. "Did that answer your question?"
"Yes, na-Baron. It did."
The Witan ended. The next thing began straight away, as it always did: Feyd went to the barracks and trained for a few hours. This was the time that I was normally given to myself while he did his thing. Now, that things were…complicated. He held me close on the march out on the castle grounds.
His fingers interlaced mine.
"I could devour you right here, sweetness," he muttered as we walked.
A handful of his personal guards surrounded us. Their black armored suits with bulging helmets were robotic and disturbing to gaze at. The constant shadows to our moments, haunting our privacy. Under their gaze, I prickled with anxiety. Even with Feyd at my side I felt their eyes on me as their prey to devour whole, should the chance arise.
"You put the lord in his place. I could have watched you speak like that all day."
"Yes, well. I grew sick of the sound of his voice."
"Lord Bondar does enjoy it. He thinks himself brilliant."
"What does na-Baron think of him?"
"Easily slain," he replied. "One arm tied behind my back, he would not last."
A comforting sentiment.
"Shall we practice such a position tonight? Should the need to slay him arise."
Feyd barked a laugh. I enjoyed the smile on his face.
"I have an entire army to practice my skills upon. There is no need to expose you to it."
"I have been exposed to worse," I retorted.
"Now you'll be exposed to the makings of nightmares of those who would threaten you."
The barracks were just as they were the day Feyd challenged the Beast to a duel. Dark and dirty. The sand stained with dark pools. My body clenched as I stepped over the spotted sandy floor behind Feyd's stomping strut. He did not pause to view the immense field of blood loss in a barren thirsty planet, that ate their life water with delight. Feyd, so easily spilled it. Without concern of what a waste it was.
The Fremen despised waste. They'd never be our allies with the blatant disregard of water.
My stomach twisted in upset. The very stench of the building was of blood. Decay. Death.
Feral rage.
Captain Rurik needed to discuss number loss with Feyd before their daily regiment began. Feyd led deep into the barracks, through dark corridors, to a room fitted with a plain simple bed, desk and encased shelves for personal weapons. It was the private quarters of the captain. He was one of the few who had his own room.
I appraised the few weapons on display in the cases. The sound of the grumbling, grunting one-eyed captain filled the outside corridors and eventually filtered into the room where both Feyd and I stood. I withdrew from perusing his personal belongings. He did not need more reason to despise me.
Whether the man like it or not, he was too important to be murdered by Feyd at this precarious time in his lordship. We needed good soldiers to support Feyd. the leadership underneath his control mattered. Leadership changes would only weaken things.
My hands clasped behind my back. I did my best to blend in with the shadows to avoid irritating the moment.
Captain Rurik, however, noticed me the moment he stepped inside.
The rutted jagged scar on his face was not the only angry look upon him. His shoulders tensed. A deep-set scowl appeared angrier than his deformed face.
"Na-Baron," he said with respect. "My lady," he sighed, almost beneath his breath.
"Captain," Feyd said. His two fists eased against the top of the desk. It groaned against the weight. "Talk to me."
I waited for their conversation to end.
Although it was difficult to block out the number of deaths. they spoke as if it were nothing but grains of sand. Not people. Real blood spent in the desert.
Arrakis was not the blessing Feyd believed it was.
There were times that I questioned whether he was meant to thrive here. Sure, he was the na-Baron's heir, but it did not feel that this place would ever bow to control.
As it shouldn't.
I did not want this planet wiped of everything that made it warm and beautiful. I only wished for the tools to leave that man's control. Forever. For Feyd.
If overthrowing an Emperor is what it took for Feyd to get his space away from the disgusting horrors, I would do all I could.
"The Baron will send more," Feyd stated confidently.
"Double the number. I say, double the men lost."
Feyd agreed to the captain's suggestion. "I'll tell him."
"The sooner the better, na-Baron. Time wasted loses more our blood."
"I know," Feyd snipped.
For once, the captain knew his limit. His head bowed at the menacing height of his superior.
"Lead the way to the sparring arena, Captain Rurik." Feyd commanded with the gravel roar of a Baron.
My arms fell from behind my back at its sound.
"Yes, na-Baron."
"My lady." Feyd offered out his hand.
We walked back to the sandy triangle arena where Feyd's blood once dripped. A wasteland. The air was thick with grit. It filled every breath. My lungs shook with effort as I fought back the urge to cough it out.
Feyd flicked his wrists. His servants were beckoned forward with a single flutter of his fingers.
"Take my lady to the high seat. Tend to her every need. Ensure she is left alone."
I quirked my brow at the last request but made no effort to seek clarity. Seeing another was not on my list of wants. There was a deep yearning in my chest to be alone.
Of course, I would never be alone again. There was an implanted person gaining personhood by my own blood.
"Good luck, na-Baron." I hummed. The servants awaited me to follow their lead. I instead walked toward Feyd. "Take it easy on them. We do need some of them to live."
His tongue caught between his teeth as my lips curled upward. "Oh, sweetness."
The look of him was so delicious. Floods of want filled me with a sudden urge. I needed those hands rubbing against me. Now.
My expression changed. It was one he recognized on sight.
He shuttered his lids down to only gaze down at me through their half slits.
I remained still. My flesh prickled in excitement. Sweat seeped up at the backs of my knees and neck. Every piece of me awakened to the sensations upon me now: my cool slick dress, the dampening of the fabric as it began to cling to me, the caress against the tips of my nipples, tingles swirled at the base of my palms.
"Get up there. Now," he said firmly. "Before I tear you apart on this bloody floor."
It did not scare me.
I almost breathed my want of that.
Then came the droning of that deep-throated song: the call of the troops. It vibrated the walls of the building.
"Go," he said again.
The servants led me again, upward, those slick metal stairs to the viewing deck with the high seat.
Things were rushed to my side. An entire jug of water was given to me. Fruit and nuts were offered. They moved so fast, tripping over their feet to present me with comfort.
Adnan was the worst. He refused to meet my eye. His eyes stared down at the floor whenever he neared.
I couldn't take it anymore. I dismissed them all away.
A second of alone time was impossible with the suffocating support of so many.
Lines of men - absent their signature helmets - filled the large triangle shaped dueling arena. Their white heads were shiny and bright. A sheen of sweat already covered their skin.
They were first addressed by their captain. His savage voice was intimating as it echoed around.
Then, came Feyd's entrance. The throat song rumbled loud. The men stomped their boots against the sand like an answering drum. A column of sandy dust filled their air they chanted for Feyd.
"Your lady is in attendance." His voice boomed. "She's come to see what kind of men protect her. In her honor you train today. Every one of you will give her your best or face the wrath of the others," Feyd demanded. The blade pulled from his side. Its tip raised and pointed to me in the high seat. "Show your lady witch how you serve your throne."
Feyd turned around away from his men to face me too, as they did.
My lips fought to smile. I knew if I did, it'd not stop.
I bowed my respects. As I knew to do from those dark days in that other castle.
The day's training began with a workout in their thick plated armor. Their bodies grunted with each motion of the group. Feyd boomed numbers out of his mouth, in the Harkonnen language, and every soldier did the same position. Over and over he ran through this sequence.
I watched on as they then ran miles in their gear. They lapped around the massive building. The captain dipped toward the middle of the pack, to scream at the others often, while Feyd jogged at the head of them. He moved like it was nothing. Pounds of armor on his body did not slow his pace.
Many soldiers dropped out of line. They fell to their knees to vomit. I had to ignore the scene.
My stomach remained too queasy to be trusted.
Then, began the endless sparring.
My knees tucked to my chest as I stared at it for hours. My mind wandered. But the roars of the commanding officers always brought me right back to the moment.
Now those very officers were in the lines to spar. Like everyone else.
"Look at him," I murmured. "He's done this for ages. It is second nature."
He exhibited perfect sparring technique. The officers used him as the standard to compare the other lesser ranks to.
"He will be an emissary of protection, whether I like it or not. Duty is not honorable to abandon for comfort as he would see it."
At first, I believed the commentary was for me.
The longer the thoughts flowed from my lips, the more it became apparent that I spoke to the other.
Feyd's heir.
"He believes you a girl, but if you are male, this will be your life." Wait. No. If it was a boy, it'd be dispatched shortly after birth. "Well, perhaps not." A flicker of sadness crossed my heart. "It will be for the best. This life is not meant for a girl much, but Feyd cannot have any sons in his line. They are not safe. You would only know pain. He knows that."
Stupid thing did not understand a word I said.
My face flushed. "I don't know why I am speaking. You don't understand me. I-i just thought that if I said it aloud, you would know the truth. Because." I sighed. "When you're born, you will see your father as a monster. Truly. The things he will have to do…he is one of us still. He is a monster so that we may live. Not the other way around. And he seems to love you already. He may be a monster in your eyes, but you'll be an angel in his. Don't, don't waste that."
Again, Feyd looked up at the viewing deck from his place on the ground. His dark eyes were like a call throughout my being. It longed to be reconnected to the piece that was absent from me.
"See? There is something not so bad in him. You will see. He will show it to you," I murmured.
He deserved a good thing in his life. If it was a child that he believed would make him whole, I'd do that for him. It could redeem all the ugly things he'd done.
The glorious aggressive graceful way Feyd dueled with blades was not so unlike a dance. I absorbed every dip and weave of his lengthy legs. His arms were so strong as they dropped their own blades just to punch with his bare fists.
It was disturbing how cheerful he was as he worked.
Blood splattered from a soldier's nose. It coated Feyd in its darkness. He enjoyed the smear of its hot blood against him as the man limped away.
Other soldiers patted his back. They spoke of it finally happening as a rite of passage into their ranks.
There came a time when others emerged. The leaders appeared in front of the lines of men, each pointed to a corner of the open space. A select few remained with Feyd. They removed the outer shells of their armor. It was tossed without care into the dust. Feyd's were collected by servants who cleaned it furiously before he asked for it again.
My heart pumped harder as the protections to Feyd's flesh were discarded. He was exposed to blades. His pale flesh was an animal hide, yes, but it still cut.
I leaned forward in the high seat to observe the men he posed to fight. They were not bulky like he was. Their lean muscles showed through their arm's lengths. The dark lines of their veins bulged against the ripple of their muscles.
My hand grasped the armrest of the seat. The tips of my fingers burned as my nails bent to the will of the metal chair.
He was famed to be the best swordsman in the Imperium. That mattered very little to me when I saw how vulnerable he was to death.
I trusted a monster like him to never be slain. Ever.
Just as the Baron never would either.
He was too evil for death to come soon. It would drag its feet to find him. The Baron would live on, longer than Feyd, to poison more with his disgusting touch.
My other hand ghosted over my lower abdomen. "I am sorry you will be born in a demented family. And if you are a son, know that I cared enough to spare you the pain of living within it."
Feyd promised to kill us both. He agreed to it.
If I did not have that - he swore he'd kill us - to repeat over and over, when my mind began to feel the trickle of unshakeable fear, I would shut down.
The thought of any part of my blood enduring what Feyd managed to survive through was too sickening to believe. If my life was to have any meaning at all, it would be that. I would save a child the life of being powerless as its father and I so often were.
I could not withstand the thought of killing my son as a mercy without also knowing death awaited me with it.
"You are a son. There is no question in my soul. Feyd would only make another one of himself. But you will be saved. We both will," I murmured as my fingers rested against the slight bump of my body. "You are my salvation. The one thing in my life that will give it meaning. In another life, son, you would be welcomed as a prince. But not now, not this place."