XXXVIII: Monster of Another Skin
A/N: Helllllo... so I have blended the movie and books together in this fic. It may lead to some confusion for those who just watched the movies. Thufir Hawat does die in the books as he does in this scene. I know in the movie it was deleted/not shown why. He was withheld an antidote from the Harkonnens; they poisoned him through his food to keep him 'on a leash' if you understand what I mean. I did not explain that in depth here because my character would not know that knowledge since she was largely ignorant of the Baron's own court dealings.
I largely relied on the emotion and cinematography of the movie [Dune Part Two] to capture this scene within my mind. The sun, the sand, the blinding emotion that is within Paul even when he decides his path and the emotional confliction he will always feel inside. If you can, rewatch that scene or listen to some ambiance music on Youtube(that's what I do) to help set you in the intense setting of this end scene.
Death was a stage, as I came to realize when we entered the room of our death. It was packed with many soldiers. Their still suits, tanned skinned and strange blue eyes were coated in the blood of their enemies. Splatters, spurts and large gushes coated the hard shells of their uniform suits.
The end of our path stopped below our feet. There was nowhere else to be led to. We met fate head on. Our deaths would end in this large room with windows that looked far out across the stretch of lands. A brilliance of piercing gold sunlight, the backdrop to the spilling of our blood.
I sighed. There were worse places to die than this.
The Emperor stood at the front of our entourage. He remained as arrogant as he appeared with his nose held so high that he had to look down upon those in front of him.
Every Sardauker solider of his personal guard was slaughtered. We stood unprotected in the face of these many hungry faces.
Still, he refused to abandon his inflated pride of position when the lives of many hanged in the balance of his actions. His own daughter stood just feet behind him at the end of the same Fremen weapons as all of us.
Would he remain this prideful in our slaughter?
The desert's thirst, it came in the form of Fremen, to bring our lifes water to its soil.
A loud detached voice rose above the sound of many shifting bodies. It was callous, harsh, in a language that sounded similar to those on Arrakis and yet, it different. It beckoned orders. The sound lacked humor, as if it could be ignored.
Soldiers took ahold of the man within our group - Thufir.
A subtle breath of release went through the Emperor's group. They excited with the thought of their plot nearing success.
The man was brought forth. His legs struggled to move. The decay of his body was rapid. The knees of his body bent inward, sliding ever downward toward the floor.
Thufir was presented to a man whom now stood in the center of the room.
A dust-filled shawl wrapped around the man's head and shoulders. He was a small, short man. Nothing the legends of Muad'Dib told. The man pulled the coverings away from his face. Sand slid down his still suit without a sound.
He revealed his pale face. Bright blue eyes filled his sockets. They were filled with brightness, but not with light. They stared at the prisoners ahead of him with a disdain that did not evoke much in expression. The hollow of his cheeks were deeper than Feyd's, but I imagined they were from dehydration.
The wild dunes of Arrakis had hardened this once soft fragile-looking boy.
Paul Atreides.
Feyd shifted. His body limbered, in excitement.
I glared at his face. He anticipated a fight. Eagerly.
Paul Atreides spoke in low murmurings with Thufir. Their voices were too low to discern from our distance. I strained to hear word of what was said.
Thufir had the needle.
The Emperor gave the poisoned needle to Thufir to abuse the young leader's trust with the old Menat. He believed his plan would reach its target since the Count was convinced Paul would not let him close.
He was right.
Feyd scanned the room. His eyes examined those nearest us, too. His arm swooped me from the inside of the Emperor entourage to the outer reaches, where his body stood in the way of them. I was nearer those who sieged the palace than those whom we faced fate with.
All of the sudden. Thufir revealed the needle in his hand. It was displayed to Paul. The man fell to his knees.
The Emperor watched on without shred of remorse as the Menat died. In pain.
I'd thought of Paul Atreides as a heartless monster. His face held a similar stare of the Emperor, and the Baron. I recognized the detachment of humanity when I saw it. The lackluster shine in his eyes was that of a monster.
A monster in human form.
I pondered if he was like Feyd and I, more than true monster.
We, too, wore a skin that did not fit us.
I stole a wayward glance at the Emperor. He did not move.
Paul kneeled alongside the body of the fallen Thufir. There were words of tenderness. I heard them below the sound of Thufir's rattled breaths. A shiver shook that hardened resolve of Atreides.
The death was emotional, for him.
I watched on in curiosity.
Was death going to be so kind to me? Would emotion come from the man as he slayed me?
Death was a savage brutal thing, as I knew it to be with the Harkonnens. Perhaps, it would be different at the end of the Atreides blade. A warm slip into nothingness, like sleep.
Paul rose from the ground. The veil of inhuman monster again slipped over his form.
That look, I knew.
"Tell your associates in the fleet above to steer away from Arrakis," Paul said in common language.
His voice was harsh, stiff, but it did not lack the sound of a man.
The men that were with the Emperor murmured feigned confusion.
An idiot could sense their lie.
"Steer the ships clear," Paul shouted. The echoes of his voice were just as grating as the real thing. It heavily scraped within my mind.
"We will not," one of the men countered.
"The nukes of my father, Leto Atreides, will blow those spice fields into oblivion. All of you will die. The Imperium with it."
The Emperor shuttered a blink. "Are you crazy? That sun has baked your head. Nukes will destroy you, too. This whole planet will be nothing worth fighting for."
"I will do it," Paul said.
"He's bluffing." Feyd purred, almost giddy.
I turned to Feyd with total loss. His ambition blinded him to what was clearly NOT a bluff.
Paul Atreides was absorbed in his mission.
What that mission hoped to accomplish, I had no clue. Yet, I trusted every action he threatened would be done. He held himself secure. He did not doubt the ones around him, or himself.
He knew.
A gruff, long-haired man entered. His hair was dark atop his head, though there were flecks of grey along his jaw. He wore a beard that was once neat; the lines were jagged with overgrowth now. He was rigid. The man walked like that of a soldier.
The faint coloring of blue within otherwise amber colored eyes surprised me.
I observed the man in great detail, confused by him the longer time wore on.
A jagged ripped, beet-colored scar showed as he twisted his head to converse with Atreides. It was wide and thick. An awful injury that would have sliced many tendons in his jaw in two.
Paul and this man spoke quickly.
"Fret not, Gurney," Paul assured him. "They'll obey."
I was certain I'd not heard it in the distance. But I knew. That was what Paul said.
When Paul Atreides faced us next, the round of his pupil turned sharp and cutting. A scowl set deeper upon his face.
"Consider what you're about to do, Paul Atreides."
The voice of the woman in black angered him.
"Silence," he screamed.
My throat seized.
Small man that Paul Atreides was, he moved like a feline cat so sure it was victorious. He stepped close to the woman in black. Her veils ripped and fell from her head.
The exposure of a long old face with cutting blue eyes in the same shade of his reflected his stare.
"I could kill you with a single word," he mused, without humor. Fierce hate boiled in his throat. "But. It is a fairer punishment that you will on. Live with the knowledge that all you've plotted and schemed for, is now beyond your reach."
The woman in black staggered a step backward.
Princess Irulan allowed the woman to fall back. She did not seek to catch the woman's stagger.
"There is a way out of this. Your death," Paul then said to the Emperor. He stepped confidently forward. "Allow me to marry your daughter. I will inherit the throne in peace. None of you must die."
I reached out and grasped Feyd's arm in response.
Those aspirations were the same as his.
If there was a moment where his hot-headed temper got him killed, it would be in response to that. None but an insult would anger him more.
My arm anchored him to me. I would hold him back. Or I would die with the many blades that would respond to his violence.
The fluttering in my stomach was wild with my anxiety. I fought back the growing sadness at its reminder. Our daughter was caught in this mess with us. Feyd - her father who loved her so much - was likely to die in these very coming moments. Our death, soon after, if there was a shred of mercy within Paul Atreides.
I would not withstand more.
There was no longer an interest within me to endure. I did not want to walk endlessly around with the weight of my heart growing ever heavier with memory of those long since passed. I didn't have the strength for it. Nor did I wish my daughter to inherit that as her legacy.
Feyd-Rautha was the mate of my soul. We were animals together. Our fleshy human pieces had been gnawed and eaten in partial consumption, whilst being revived with poison of monsters inside ourselves. We embraced our animal hides differently. We donned the strengths to blend, but it wore on the rest of us to be seen as the same.
I could not hold endless love like Feyd. He held it deep for me. Even when I could not simply say his name.
My daughter needed that. She deserved love. An endless, condition less, impossible to stop kind of love. It revived me. It would complete her.
There was no child without Feyd. And there was no me without Feyd.
Our fates linked. Whether by the fates or design, we burned together.
Princess Irulan and the woman in black spoke words of reason to the Emperor. They did not wish their own deaths. A natural response. They attempted to give him the sense to choose the lesser option.
The Emperor stood to save all our lives if he bowed out with peace.
The princess herself believed it a good idea.
I supposed she wished herself to embrace a monster she did not know, rather than the one she did.
Feyd shifted. He paced a few steps beside me. The patience wore thin. He was eager and angry and ready.
The old, scarred soldier within Paul Atreides ranks - also not a Fremen - sank his brow. Gurney as Paul Atreides called him. His eyes roved through the depths of the Emperor's entourage. I spied the curious glance at my face.
My grip tightened on Feyd's arm. He remained ignorant of it. His mind, I was certain, listened carefully to the urging of the princess and the woman to convince the Emperor to surrender through marriage.
Gurney dragged his eyes along my arm. It led straight up to the slight pacing of Feyd.
A wave of thick tense emotion gripped Gurney's face.
"Listen to them." Paul urged. "They answer to their basic instincts. Their lives will be spared because of it. But you..." His brow wrinkled. "You have to answer for my father."
Leto Atreides. An image of him flashed into my mind.
That poster I read in Carthag held his likeness. A fickle semblance of that man showed in the Paul Atreides stood before me now.
"Do you know why I killed him?" The Emperor said.
I glimpsed Feyd. His eyes glanced back down. His lips went into a thin line.
That admission was the way that Feyd hoped to use the Houses against the Emperor. It was a deadly admission to make. Even in the wake of allies.
"Your father was a man that believed in the rules of the heart."
The Emperor's words struck Paul. They invoked more emotion than before. Mention of his father rendered him lost inside his mind that struggled to find its footing. I recognized the struggle. He relied on his hardness of heart to shield him from pain.
It did not work.
"But the heart is not meant to rule," the Emperor continued. "In other words, your father was a weak man."
Breath ceased in my chest.
Those words were enough for Paul Atreides to once again summon his resolve. It clicked higher, tighter, thicker along his body.
I watched the change. The hope drained away from my body.
Paul Atreides was gone. It was the monster now.
"Stand," he said calmly. "Or choose your champion."
Those words rippled through Feyd.
Ache ascended my fingers as I gripped him so tight, even as he walked away from me forward, toward our captors.
"I'm here, Atreides..."
Those words sank into the pit of my stomach.
NO!
"I need a blade," he said.
The confidence in his tone stabbed me deeper and deeper.
"Take mine," the Emperor said.
My eyes shuttered quick blinks. Their watery glaze descended. A small favor to my pride. It granted me sight of Paul Atreides' face when Feyd stepped forward. He flickered between confusion and acceptance.
He said nothing. His back turned. His footsteps traced to the center of the large room.
Gurney, the old soldier, shook his head. Through gritted teeth he spoke to Paul. The word "animal" echoed through the room.
My mouth fell open. A horrid breath of disbelief still birthed out into the air.
Feyd turned his back. The creeping of his gaze invoked mine to lift and meet his.
His palms touched my shoulders, though he was an arm's length away from me.
"No other," he murmured. "No other, sweetness."
My eyes flickered toward the center stage. It would be the place where his blood finally spilled in too large a quantity to survive.
Cool tears trickled from my eyes down my cheeks. They met my deepening frown.
"Don't do this," I pleaded in a whisper. "Don't make me endure this."
Feyd brushed the tip of his finger through my tears. It rose to his lips.
Nothing more was said.
He faced his ending.
While my stomach revolted and my thighs trembled, I remained stood tall on the edge of his final arena. I'd witness his death. Then, I'd find my own.
It would be easy. Tension in the room made violence easy enough to emerge. I would bide my time.
I'd learned how.
A blade was presented from the Emperor's staff. They showed the hilt from beneath a protective cloth case.
Feyd slipped it within his grasp. The blade made a noise as it moved through the air.
It was fine and regal and thin.
Princess Irulan, again, stood in the corner of my vision. She stole a few glances at me.
I found the strength to meet them. Let her see the devastation her father's pride would cause.
I'd thought she was a witch, all mighty and powerful. My expectation fell well below the reality. I was disappointed.
What power did they hold here, in this room, with the egos of men long dead now decided the fate of us?
Paul himself was given a blade by his own people. They put their fists to their chests and knocked against them in respect. He answered their gesture with the same.
His feet marched opposite of Feyd. The Fremen soldiers were right on the line, outlining the very arena he would battle on.
A woman stood out amongst them. Her beauty was of a stone statue. A smooth-edged face, haughty and drastic, only opposed a statue for that she was tanned in a perfect color. Her long hair was tied behind her face. I knew she was Fremen by the blinding blue of her eyes. However, there was a red gleam that came from her hair when it caught the light. It was dark, but the red brown hues mixed together.
Paul viewed the woman with adoration. He approached her and struggled to turn around and face what was to come.
Feyd stepped forward. His body was thickly armor plated and dense with muscle. Compared to Paul, he was a beast. His height towered him above Paul's head. The reach of his arm was at an advantage that gave him more safety from being internally harmed.
Gurney stood behind Paul. His face smeared with his dislike. Whether it was the risk, the death, the want to kill Feyd himself, I did not know. True emotion lived in that man for Paul. More than the others that responded to his call.
The old soldier Paul called Gurney loved him. His ugliness sank deeper when his eyes caught against the heft of Feyd's shadow.
"You know." Paul's voice was small now. It was softer, contemplative. "I'm glad to finally meet you. Cousin."
The sourness in my stomach upheaved. I felt waves of anxiety fill my body.
Cousin?
It could not be.
The Baron could not have killed a house with his own blood in it.
Then I knew better than to believe that.
He did many sick things with those of his blood. Scars that both of these men carried as their biggest, broadest shields.
Feyd stood still. "Cousin." He was amused by that. "Is that right?"
You stupid fool. Do not kill your family. This man is as misguided as you.
I wanted to scream.
Paul lowered his gaze. Sorrow creased at the corners of his mouth. "May they knife chip and shatter."
"May thy knife, chip and shatter," Feyd responded.
The duel began. The men set into their stances. Both locked with acceptance of murder or death. Paul tucked in close to himself. He was very small. I did not doubt his ability to move swift and agile as a creature meant to evade.
They began with the crossing of their blades. It was child's play. Neither struck hard. Until they did. Feyd began aggressively hitting with his blade and fists. He used every part of his body as a weapon against Paul's small form.
Just like I suspected, Paul moved fast. He was very agile to avoid Feyd's constant advances.
Feyd, too, knew how to move quickly. He deflected the swing of Paul's blade, and the thrusts that would run him through.
Each lift of Feyd's arm raised my blood pressure. It filled my ears, the throbbing of my heart.
I begged and begged for ice to return to me now. Its cold embrace would shield me from Feyd's defeat. There was no hope of victory. These soldiers would slaughter Feyd because there was no royal fucking moral code to hold them back.
This was war.
It did not accept gentleman's codes.
Princess Irulan, again, snapped her attention to me. I could not pay her attention.
My eyes followed Feyd. They absorbed every detail, every way his body moved, the swing of his arms and the grunt of effort as he used it against Paul Atreides.
Paul Atreides. The unseen rival since we were sent to this dune planet.
It was this man that now Feyd fought for his life. The man he'd sought to destroy to gain all his dreams.
The Baron's last order than damned us to death.
Feyd used his dueling skills to his benefit as only he knew how. It aided him in every fight. His ability to mentally pierce an opponent, rendering their mind reactive, and use their own skill against them, was an artwork.
His words were enflamed. They were meant to anger Paul.
It did not work.
Paul's answering silence disturbed Feyd instead.
Only when Feyd managed to kick Paul off his feet onto the floor, did Feyd realize his biggest mental weapon against Paul Atreides.
"Is that your - is this your pet?" Feyd mocked.
He saw the woman that held her breath. Her body trembled. Her blue eyes watched the trickle of blood on Paul's forehead like it was her own wound.
Feyd took a menacing few steps toward the woman.
He sniffed loudly. His eyes scanned the woman. Her eyes finally took notice of him.
The fluttering in my stomach weakened. I felt the waves of agony crash down from my own emotion onto the child I carried. My hands pressed against my stomach in apology.
"Any special attention for the pet?" Feyd taunted.
It raised Paul from the floor. His jaw set in a strong scowl.
He marched proudly forward.
Feyd's smile grew wide. His excitement for the fight grew stronger.
Paul launched against Feyd faster than ever before. His arms moved with lightning speed. Feyd kept steady. He blocked and avoided the swings. Only, he was unable to attack back. He was on constant defense to avoid the ragged split of a blade through the chest.
Feyd was tiring. I saw it now. His body could not keep up at that pace.
I took a step out into that arena but was pulled back by my skirts.
"Stay," Lady Fenring said.
My legs secured in place.
I was forced to watch Feyd be much too slow. Paul yanked him forward. His forehead smacked against Feyd's with a hefty thud.
It disoriented him. He stepped away, but Paul was there again to do it a second time.
The disorientation made Feyd much too slow to react. Paul lunged with the blade. But, it did not source at his heart or his neck.
It sank right in the joint of Feyd's armor suit, between the joint of the shoulder.
Feyd's sudden intake of air was like the last breath before death.
It sliced through his right deltoid between his upper arm and clavicle. The sword fell from his hand. It clattered against the stone floor like the broken dreams we'd held together being shattered.
He struggled with loud breaths as he braced his hands against the blade that Paul kept sank within Feyd's body.
Fury filled the blue of Paul's eyes.
"Let's see your pet, shall we?" He said loudly into Feyd's face.
He used the blade as an anchor. It helped drag Feyd's body toward mine. All the while, Feyd held the blade to keep it from cutting completely through the tendons. His black teeth bit into his lip as he struggled against the pain.
Pain was not pleasure after all.
Paul's face looked at mine. I had to drag my sight away from Feyd to fully meet the look of our murderer.
A single tear shed onto my cheek. Silent, I held my breath.
"What about her, hm? Any special attentions?"
Feyd heaved his leg upward in hopes it would land. Paul twisted the blade in Feyd's shoulder. He yelled out in pain. Black blood spilled onto the floor.
I gasped. "Please."
"Please what?" Paul now mocked.
"Before you kill him, please kill me. Spare me the sight," I said.
My heart was weaker than I believed. Witnessing his death was torture. My soul was in agony, even now.
"No." Feyd gritted his teeth. "No."
"I will do it anyway," I told Paul. The room turned very intense. "Please. Kill me first. I'll not fight it."
The fluttering in my stomach began again. Their fast whispers of motion inside my body were electric. I pushed my hand against them. A comfort, for the last moments we had together.
I am so sorry I could not be your mother, little girl.
Paul adjusted himself taller. He approached. This meant he dragged Feyd yet another length forward.
He stared within my eyes. A subtle scoff came from his lips.
"Plots within plots within plots," he lowly murmured.
His eyes glimpsed at the woman in black. Then they went to Lady Fenring behind my back.
He took a long swallow. "Your child could rule. I see it," he said.
Feyd stilled against Paul's blade. He listened, with his fingers held at the hilt against Paul's grasp.
"I will give you in marriage to my good friend, Gurney Halleck. You two could rule Geidi together until your child is old enough to. You'll be safe. No harm would befall you or your child."
"No." Feyd grumbled.
He fought against the arm that held him. His legs kicked, but the agile body of Paul moved quicker.
Paul sank a knee on Feyd's chest. "Move again and I'll slice through your neck."
The old soldier Gurney stepped forward. The confusion on his face matched my own.
I had no interest in a man I did not know.
Feyd was my only.
My head shook my disagreement. "Feyd and I. We burn together."
Paul tilted his head, wincing. "Killing you does not aid me."
"Then." I swallowed. The many eyes of the room were on me. Their heat burned against my cheeks. "I will beg you for his life."
Paul puckered his face. His eyes hardened.
"He must die," Paul said lowly.
"You do not just have his life under your blade."
The Atreides did not show true remorse over death. The resistance to slay me was leaving. It would be a short while before he agreed to sever my life from this body.
If I pushed him harder, I could meet death on my own terms.
Finally.
If only it'd been less mournful to do this in front of Feyd. The agony he would endure to see me and child slain before him.
"Have you no love for a father?" I said suddenly. Emotion overcame me. My own plots deviated toward my heart first. "I know your father was a good man. Not weak," I snipped at the Emperor. "The people here. In Arrakeen and Carthag told me of him. They said he was a good man."
"He was a good man."
"Feyd is good too. He is not his uncle. He is not that same man," I said. "He will be a good father. I know that in my heart. He deserves that chance. She." My hands cupped my stomach. "Deserves to have that chance of knowing her father."
"She." Paul scoffed.
He thought many long minutes.
The silence was overpowering.
Those inside it grew anxious the longer Paul Atreides thought. His knee remained pressed against the center of Feyd's chest.
"Muad'Dib?" Some Fremen voices murmured.
"What is it? What do you see?"
He blinked through the distance in his eyes.
"Killing him will ensure my victory, but her death…it does not aid us. Paradise. It will not come if she dies, though I cannot see why."
He snapped his eyes toward me. The distance in his vision long since fled. The present was all he saw. I, at the very center of it all.
I remained locked in place. My legs were frozen solid in place.
"You are friend of Arrakis," he questioned.
I nodded. "It is the first place I recall in my heart. It is, home to my soul. I'd welcome death under its beautiful sun."
The silence again suffocated us all. The Emperor, all his minions, the many Fremen, every person within the room drew breath. Their hearts beat in their ears, as it did mine. So much laid on the precipice of this moment. The future of an entire Imperium lingered within the air. Like the glimmer of spice, it shimmered through the air.
Fates of the dunes was long ago decided, I believed. It knew its end. It knew its beginning. Therein, laid its stillness the nature of its body.
There would come a time when its thirst would be quenched. The blood spilled upon these sands, filled its belly.
It was in a distance I did not see but knew to be true.
Paul said paradise. A paradise on Arrakis.
Would breathtaking beauty it be? If my life water was part of it, death did not feel so wasted.
Feyd and I could be useful in our deaths. Our lives gave us little purpose. But death. Death upon the dunes, at the end of a dynasty, we could gift some beauty into the world we'd never seen. The beauty of peace.
Paul followed my line of sight. It fled out of the room, out into the desolate beyond where the many tall standing dunes lived.
He tilted his chin forward. "What do you see? Out there."
The puddle beneath Feyd's shoulder grew ever blacker.
I swallowed. My eyes allowed the light of the sun's rays to ignite inside themselves. The fire of life.
"They say a god poisoned this land with its greed, and hunger," I said. "It ate all the beauty. It poisoned the lands. It made the sands, so hot and dry. It ruined everything." My heart lurched. "This place has been scorched by greed. It drank the planet dry, so it tries to take its fill from those who meet it. One day, it will be replenished. Enough death will give it a sorrow. It will cry for the ones it consumed and thus flood away its shame."
A flicker of joy - the slightest show of emotion - crinkled the corners of his eyes.
"Pledge that you will never take up arms against Arrakis or the Fremen who live here," he said suddenly.
"Will you spare him?"
"Yes," Paul said.
"What about the others?" My arm limply gestured around us. "There are innocent people here."
"They will be granted leave back to their home planet."
"Do I need swear it in blood?"
I would spill my own blood into Paul's mouth if that was what it took to get my life back.
"That is what your ancestors would do," he said.
My body stilled. The flutters within my stomach stopped.
"You are from the Ginaz, aren't you? You pronounce 'h' and 'g' as they do."
My arms fell to my sides. "I do not know what you mean."
"I knew someone from your planet. Duncan. He was a dear friend. You remind me of him, now that I have him in my mind."
I shook my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Paul flicked his eyes downward. "He knows. He's riddled out by now. But he's not told you."
Feyd remained silent. The weakness in his hands showed. The edges of Paul's knife cut into Feyd's fingers. They no longer struggled against one another.
The pain no longer burned inside Feyd's body. He'd embraced the sensation. He only held the knife to keep it from slicing his arm away from his joint.
I worried that Paul would change his mind about the blood oath. I screamed inside my mind for my body to move. My legs were glued to the floor. They did not want to move.
"Where do you want my blood?" I asked.
"Come here."
His voice sank deep through my bones. My legs walked before I finished absorbing his statement.
He pulled another small knife from his person. He handed it to me.
Feyd's legs kicked. "Don't."
I dipped down and ran my fingers along his forehead. My frown grew.
"We deserved better, Feyd." Emotion gathered inside my eyes; his face turned watery. "It is better this way."
Paul caught my arm. He pulled the knife from my hand and sliced my thumb himself. The droplet smeared atop the rippled pad. My thumbprint was bloodied in the hot crimson.
He pressed my bloody thumb onto his palm.
"Your people believe blood is a sacred thing never to be wasted," Paul said below his breath.
It was only audible to him and I. And Feyd, I supposed, just below us. Though the consciousness of the moment was fleeting from his vision. He went paler, still, somehow.
"I do not take this lightly. I will honor it."
When Paul released my hand, he released hold of Feyd. His knee lifted. The knife was left abandoned inside Feyd's body. Paul stood over us.
As Feyd wretched the blade out with trembling hands, Paul proclaimed his instruction. "If she ever is unable to meet my request for a meeting or my men don't return from your planet, I will send every available soldier I have to massacre your planet."
Next, he addressed the Emperor with a threatening tone. He spoke of honor. He said he spared the champion but bested him in combat. The Emperor was expected to honor the results.
The pride of the Emperor did not lower his indignant chin.
"Please. You can have my hand in marriage. Do not hurt my father. I will go with you," Princess Irulan begged.
I helped Feyd to his feet. His body was heavy against my shoulders. His strength was gone. It took effort to breathe. He heaved with effort. My height made the large man hunched against me to stay upright.
Blood seeped onto my hair and neck from his wound.
It did not let concern for it prick my relief. He was alive. He could live on with me. It could be as it should have been.
He swore he would kill us. But it was I who saved him.
Paul ordered that we be allowed through. We were granted freedom back to Geidi Prime. The ships of the Guildsman would take us and all the others. None of the Harkonnens would meet death as protected under my blood oath.
"Lady Harkonnen." Paul's voice echoed through the empty corridor.
That name soured my stomach into upheaval. Still, I turned around.
Warm streams of blood leeched down my spine from Feyd's injury, growing heavier by the moment. His black drain literally drenched me. As he gave his life for me, many times before. It stained thicker upon my body. I would never be able to be rid of its staining truth: like it or not, I was Lady Harkonnen.
"He would not do it, you know." He looked at Feyd who stood, weakening every moment with blood dribbling down his arm. The strong rasp in my ear hit my heart with a dagger, the harder it struggled. Paul's hot burning hatred did not dissipate from his stare, not even in the state he left Feyd in. "Even in the wake of certain death, he would not do it."
It was all he left me with.