Chapter Text
Paul Atreides won the Golden Lion Throne from Shaddam IV of House Corrino in a single afternoon with his army of Faithful on Arrakis…
The Landsraad and the Spacing Guild swore fealty to Him before nightfall. - Princess Irulan Corrino
When he’d looked up from his kneeling crouch before her father’s dais and turned his baleful eyes on her, her heart had hammered once.
Irulan quickly and gently reasserted control over her physiology and coolly met his studious stare, a tiny smirk lifting the corner of his full lips. His Uncle may have been gluttonous and power-hungry, but Feyd-Rautha’s sin was lust; lust for domination.
There could be no mistake in his unseemly stare that he gazed not upon a future lover, or even a human-being, but a trophy. A trophy he felt moments away from being awarded - the prize which in time would win him ultimate power over the Known Universe.
But she knew something he didn’t.
Buried inside his mind was another Feyd, a gentler Feyd, hidden there with skillful application of hypno-ligation to survive the brutality of Giedi Prime by the Atreides Mentat Thufir Hawat. Margot Fenring had made contact with that Feyd and made love to him. They’d discovered he wasn’t simply a beast to be put down, inside him was another worth saving and, importantly, he could be controlled.
So Irulan calmly met the predatory eyes of Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, her betrothed, knowing that behind those cold, ambitious eyes lay her true future husband.
How wrong she had been.
The day had ended with her now promised to Paul “Muad’Dib” Atreides. With her father forced to swear fealty, the Landsraad and the Spacing Guild followed suit at dusk.
Now her father was on Salusa Secundus, a prisoner on his own prison planet. Her Reverend Mother was held prisoner, awaiting trial and likely execution for her attempt at assassinating Paul by using Feyd-Rautha as her tool.
Irulan felt the only thing she could do was to do what she’d always done. Objectively record the events as was her duty.
Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam was found guilty of treason for the attempted assassination of the Padishah Emperor Paul Atreides. She was executed by the Mahdi’s own crysknife on Arrakis. - Princess Irulan Corrino
The trial of Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam was the first show of Imperial leadership following the conventions of the Landsraad and not of Fremen people. Paul had taken her advice, to demonstrate that he meant to continue to handle matters of the law, at least with outworlders, in the traditional ways of the Imperium. So Irulan had played a key witness to the crime of her Reverend Mother: attempted assassination.
Irulan was questioned whether she had a part in the Reverend Mother’s plan to take this action. Alia confirmed she’d spoken the truth when she confessed she did not, that this appeared to her to be a spontaneous act.
But was Irulan aware of what the Reverend Mother’s motivations were to kill Paul Atreides? Irulan had to recount how Mohiam had told her on Kaitain that the decision to exterminate the Atreides line had been Mohiam’s counsel to the Emperor. Irulan could not face the Reverend Mother, her teacher, as she gave her testimony.
Feyd, of course, was another witness. It was the first time she’d really seen him as the one who had been raised as an Atreides, as Paul’s brother. His pale blue eyes were cool, but not cold. The last time she’d seen him he’d been Feyd-Rautha, and his eyes had been burning with murderous rage as he advanced towards Paul. But now he looked awkward and uncomfortable as he recalled what he could of his internal struggle to suppress the violent fury of Feyd-Rautha threatening to overtake him. The Reverend Mother’s commanding Voice had brought forth Feyd-Rautha and he’d been crushed under his oppressive bloodlust like an enormous wave.
When Feyd had been thanked by the Emperor for his testimony, he’d stepped back and had received a supportive squeeze on the shoulder by Gurney Halleck. She felt bitter, she had no one to comfort her.
The trial found the Reverend Mother guilty, and she was unceremoniously led behind the palace for execution.
Despite her great historical learning, Irulan could not recall when the last Bene Gesserit had been executed for treason against the Imperium.
The days had passed slowly then with nothing of note to transcribe.
She filled her days supporting Paul to follow whatever necessary bureaucratic steps to be undertaken to formally consecrate his power. She’d requested some ancient texts be sent from Kaitain to help inform and guide the process. House Corrino had been in power for over 10,000 years, the formal records of the last transition were scant. She expected that she’d likely need to make up some of it along the way and therefore establish new legal conventions.
Paul had shown little interest and left her to it. He was more interested in going out to the deep desert to resurrect the old Ecological Testing Facilities for the terraformation of Arrakis, promising careful consultation with the CHOAM and the Spacing Guild about his plans. She’d quickly learnt that he was the Lisan al Gaib first, Padishah Emperor second.
Irulan didn’t mind. She could have reassigned the task to a Mentat or another learned advisor, but she greedily bent her mind to the task, desperately needing the distraction with nothing much else to do inside during those long, hot, dry days on the desert planet with no change in the weather but for an occasional sandstorm to break the monotony.
She felt that she, like her father, was on her own prison planet.
Then late one evening, as it was growing dark, she heard something heavy being placed outside below her bedroom window. Shortly afterwards followed the irregular sound of a one-sided combat. Someone must have decided to fit in some training as the day’s heat was rapidly bleeding away.
Irulan initially tried to ignore the noise and remain disciplined at her task, but it proved sufficiently distracting and her curiosity encouraged her up from her seat. She moved away from her lamp and towards the darkened window to peer out.
There was a training dummy armed and operating and, softly lit with the warm light of a glow globe, was a shirtless figure. A pale-skinned muscular form moving with the canny swiftness of the Weirding Way. His bald head gave him away as being none other than Feyd.
Irulan’s breath caught and she stepped back half a step. She half-turned to go back to her desk, but she found herself frozen. Instead she turned back to the window and stepped further into the shadow of the blinds hoping he wouldn’t glance up and catch her watching him.
She marvelled at his graceful strength and dexterity as he came in with his blade from high and from low again and again, each time swifter than the last as he surpassed the accelerating rate of the programmed training system. His movement was like that of a ballerino.
He’s beautiful…
She realised her breath was caught and her mouth was drier than she’d recalled it being since she first started to get used to the water restrictions on Arrakis.
She slowly turned and carefully moved back into her room, reaching for a stone flask of water and blindly pouring a glass and drinking, still seeing flesh like white marble smoothly flexing, twisting and rippling in her mind’s eye.
No. That door has closed.
After her initial disappointment had passed following Feyd-Rautha’s defeat, she’d tried to put Feyd out of her head. She had a new man to work with.
But he was the Kwisatz Haderach…. Neither she, nor any Bene Gesserit had any hope of controlling him. And so she’d started to hope that he might pay her some interest beyond that of colleague and advisor, but he gave her no warmth beyond cordial respect. His mind was forever deeply focussed, but never on her.
The sound of him striking the dummy increased pace and became more rhythmic, almost like a meditative percussion; a siren call beckoning her back to the window to watch.
She couldn’t.
She abruptly sat on the cool, stone floor, placed her hand into a mudra for concentration and started breathing, the banging and rattling outside fading into the background.
Then dimly she heard a voice call, the gruff voice of the War-Master Gurney Halleck. She softened her concentration to perceive meaning.
“- Princess’ room is just up there, don’t go annoying her with your banging around,” Halleck admonished.
“Oh! I didn’t know,” Feyd replied panting.
“I’d also prefer you didn’t take it upon yourself to just move my training equipment out of the training room.” There was a grunt of effort as the War-Master evidently lifted the training dummy. “You can’t just leave stuff outside here and forget to bring it in like you did on Caladan.”
“That was one time!” Feyd groused, his voice growing softer as they moved away.
“The electronics all got fried in the rain -”
Irulan couldn’t hear them any more.
She sighed and admonished herself again. She’d indulged herself with girlish fantasy over the months prior to arriving on Arrakis, building up Feyd in her mind with everything she’d heard of him, and now that lack of self-control was the very tool of her punishment.
I need to be better. I am a Princess and Bene Gesserit.
How fate seemed to laugh at her.
Days later Irulan was returning from an early breakfast when she heard a sharp knocking on a wooden door down a corridor not far ahead of her.
Presently she heard a door swing open.
“You slept late,” a babyish voice lisped, “did Feyd-Rautha keep you up?”
“God you’re nosey, Alia,” she heard him grumble. Irulan’s pace slowed minutely and she prepared herself to walk past the corridor.
“Where are your shoes?”
“I don’t feel like wearing them today,” he replied.
“You’ll get dirty feet!” she admonished.
“Oh noooo! Dirty feet!” he gasped in faux shock then chuckled.
“You’re gross,” Alia sniffed, only encouraging his soft laughter.
Irulan schooled her expression and didn’t even allow her peripheral vision to attempt to discern them as she passed the entrance to the corridor.
Feyd’s quiet merriment died down suddenly as she passed, and after several paces beyond she heard muted whispers in her wake. If they were talking about her she didn’t care. She was just sorry that her presence had brought an end to his laughter which still echoed on repeat in her head.
She must put him out of her mind.
Once Paul’s power was officially legally ratified, Irulan needed something else to do. It was only by Irulan’s advice, couched in terms of supporting his legitimacy as Emperor, that Paul could be diverted to consider marriage plans.
She hoped it wasn’t too obvious to him that her ulterior motive was a desire to leave Arrakis and go home to Kaitain. She was homesick and continued to feel trapped and isolated, surrounded as she was by Paul’s family and his followers. Everyone kept her at a cool and formal distance and treated as an accessory to Paul’s power.
Paul was content to leave all the planning to her, but was firm in his disagreement that the wedding should be held on Kaitain. He left no room in his tone for her to continue to rationalise her argument. He’d quickly excused himself and left the large room where he’d sought her council, leaving her alone and reeling.
Irulan banished the lump in her throat as she lowered herself to sit stiffly in a chair.
She didn’t know how long she’d sat there before the heavy stomping of boots could be heard coming down the corridor. Fedaykin did not wear heavy boots.
She heard someone call out sharply in Chakobsa, and there was a gravelly snarl and a startled cry. Another Fremen cried out a challenge but was met by a sharp warning bark.
Then the approaching stomping continued.
“My Lord, you know it’s not wise to attack our Emperor’s Fedaykin-”
“Shut your mouth Thufir I don’t care to hear it. Besides, he insulted me,” Feyd-Rautha growled as he passed the door.
“You understand Chakobsa?”
“I understand enough to know he’s lucky he escaped with only a cut on his cheek.”
Their voices faded, and she felt the light rush of adrenaline gently settle in the emptiness within her. She’d not heard or seen Feyd-Rautha for a while, she’d thought he might have gone. Apparently not.
Feyd-Rautha must be travelling to Giedi Prime.
The weeks turned into months, and while she had nothing to do with him other than literally in passing, seeing and hearing him going here and there from a distance, her days felt a little emptier.
She planned her wedding to her Emperor Atreides, never having felt lonelier.
She completed the seating planning for all the guests for the rehearsal dinner. Another tradition broken, the rehearsal dinner would be the only dinner put on for their guests. There would be bare minimum representation from each of the Great Houses and the Spacing Guild, it was all Arrakeen could accommodate. No Bene Gesserit, not even Truthsayers or concubines of their Lords and Ladies.
She looked at the remaining names not allocated to a table, the direct family and household of her future husband. Her father’s name was not there, she’d almost had to beg Paul to permit her four younger sisters to be invited. They were all Bene Gesserit acolytes and would be exceptions to his rule. He had agreed, but in a way which suggested he pitied her. That had not sat well with her, to give her scrapes of generosity, treating her like a pauper and not what she was - a Princess, his equal.
Feeling wronged and a little spiteful, she stared at the remaining names on the list for the small main table. Paul’s family, Fremen chiefs and religious leaders to his cult. She and her husband would be seated in the middle of the table, but who would sit to her left?
There was Lady Jessica who held almost the same attitude towards her as her son, she was there as a badge to legitimise his power. Irulan felt that Jessica didn’t really trust her, given her association with Reverend Mother Mohiam. Alia, the Abomination, unnerved her. The few occasions she’d found herself in her stare, her lip had been curled mockingly. Gurney Halleck was gruff and almost as zealously loyal to Paul as Stilgar and the other Fremen leaders, thankfully it would be completely inappropriate to be seated next to any of them anyway. She half expected to see Thufir Hawat’s name on the list, but he would be on duty managing security. Her sisters would be sat at another table - a mercy to them - which left… Feyd.
She legitimised it politically; there would be heads of three Great Houses ordered in seniority, Atreides, Corrino and Harkonnen from right to left from the centre.
She rationalised that it was an opportunity for her to find out who’d he’d become now that he was working to integrate Feyd and Feyd-Rautha into one whole. He’d been on Geidi Prime for a while now and Geidi Prime was accustomed to being ruled by tyrants. Perhaps he wasn’t who Margot said he was anymore. Perhaps she’d discover he wasn’t all what she hoped he would be.
Half of her hoped that might be the case.
She rolled up the papers and sealed them in a silver messaging canister, ready for her assistant to collect the next day. Then she looked out at the star strewn sky, and noticed high above a heighliner in the darkness above the atmosphere. Despite Arrakis being the current seat of Imperial power, heighliners were not regularly seen in orbit, unlike Kaitain or other key planets. Heighliners only appeared when there was spice to be shipped or when someone important was arriving.
Could it be he’s returned?
Feyd had returned. But he’d taken to going out into the desert with Paul and Gurney and she saw very little of him. There were other extended periods of time where she didn’t see him at all and she wondered if he was back on Giedi Prime during those absences.
Organising the wedding took far less time that she’d originally thought, and now was the wait and her tedious days were filled with pretending that she still had a voice as a counsellor to Paul, who needed her less and less.
Paul had shown her to the small library which had travelled from Caladan to Arrakis and she read again books that she’d read before, not finding much she’d not already encountered. She wished she’d brought her lyre. How could she have known when she’d boarded the heighliner for Arrakis all that time ago that she’d still be here months later?
Then a tailor had arrived from Kaitain and work began on her various dresses for the wedding festivities. A few weeks later, servants from Caladan arrived.
The day before her wedding she stood before the mirror in the golden dress she would wear to the rehearsal dinner as the tailor drifted around her making final adjustments. She appeared as a bright reflection on the shifting mountainous dunes of the planet.
Her wedding was tomorrow, the rehearsal dinner an hour away, and all she could look forward to was the possibilities of a conversation with Feyd.