𝐲𝐮𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐧 ⁀➴ paul atreides

6 ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ shadows and secrets

─── ･ ｡ﾟ⟡ 🌓 ⟡ ˚｡ ･ ───

six

'In the dance of duty and desire, secrets linger like shadows, waiting to be revealed by the light of truth.'

─── ･ ｡ﾟ⟡ 🌓 ⟡ ˚｡ ･ ───

Giedi Prime, the homeworld of House Harkonnen, lies ominously in the waking hours of the evening and in the cloudy sky. Lights protrude through the roofs of buildings with a large, almost artificial mountain in the center, but other than that, everything else is as dark and foreboding as the people themselves.

The top of said mountain opens to let in one of the descending ships, like a mouth that's ready to lure in its prey before closing and sheltering them from any sunlight until they face their demise.

Soldiers bow on their knees as a scarred, bald man approaches a light that lies on the ground--a sort of ventilation system. 

Rabban Harkonnen. A giant, raised by Harkonnen savagery. For him, cruelty is not a choice but a way of the world. The strong survive, and the weak are taken by them.

He looks at one of the men who stands by the steaming ventilation, which turns out to be some kind of sauna that keeps inside a large man. Larger than Rabban, at that. Intimidating, and oddly unsettling.

"Lord Baron," Rabban lowly says in a deep voice.

Vladimir, being said Lord, doesn't turn his head to his soldier; he only speaks his name in a reverberating voice that could vibrate the eardrums of anyone who is close enough to hear his voice. "Rabban."

His deep, resonant voice emerges from the steam. The vapor billows as the Baron shifts. He is mountainous. Six hundred pounds of soft, naked flesh. Despite his vast bulk, he considers himself beautiful.

"The last of our ships have left Arrakis," Rabban states before looking down with a slight pause. "It's done."

"Very good." Vladimir rumbles.

Rabban turns away only to swiftly resume his position and ask, "Uncle, how can we let this happen?"

Related, and yet... family isn't everything to some.

"How can the Emperor..." he starts before shouting, startling two of the female Harkonnen servants, "take everything we've built, and give it to that Duke!" He takes a quick breath. "How?"

"Don't be too sure it's an act of love," Piter, a human stiletto and a Mentat says, his mind trained to superhuman acuity--and dedicated to sadism in all its forms.

Rabban looks at Piter, breathing heavily, before looking at his uncle. "What does he mean?"

Vladimir slowly looks up, and merely asks, "when is a gift not a gift?" before looking back down and resuming his original position. "The Atreides' voice is rising, and the Emperor is a jealous man." Tiny red lights in pairs line his back from the neck down like some kind of contraption. "A dangerous, jealous man." He rumbles lowly, running a hand from the back of his smooth and bald head down to his face to rub his eyes and wipe away the steam.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

While the wedding was over, there was no reception.

It was just a pact.

Paul has now changed into something more comfortable. That being, one of his black coats. He sits at the edge of a bed, reading through—not the Fremen history—but Sukari's. The book in his hands depicts drawings of what the 'healers' would wear and look like, but there was very little on the warrior side of the Ilusek people.