Chapter Text
Baron Vladimir Harkonnen cited an ancient law that stated due to the rarity of omegas, an eligible alpha—meaning unmarried, unmated, and of the same social class as their intended—had the right to court an eligible omega. This meant that his nephew, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, had the right to Paul's attention despite the official and long-standing enmity between House Atreides and House Harkonnen.
The Landsraad discussed it among themselves with all the gravity of a trade dispute or military action. Was this a real statute? Yes, here was the register, and here were previous cases. How could it be that such a law was nearly unknown in the Imperium? Once again, the rarity of omegas was a factor; generations and generations had passed without the appearance of an omega within the Houses Major and thus, without creating a situation such as this. But Paul Atreides was an omega, and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was an alpha.
The alpha had the right, they decided.
Paul's father, in a dark rage and after intense consultation with his Mentat Thufir Hawat, had answered with another ancient law: the alpha would be muzzled.
He had never seen his father so angry, and Paul suspected that neither had the Emperor nor the men of Landsraad, and that, in their surprise and not a little fear, they had quickly acquiesced to his demand.
"For how long?" asked the Baron.
The Duke of Caladan growled, "For as long as he is around my son."
His goal—and hope—was clearly to dissuade Feyd-Rautha entirely. The na-Baron did look displeased, but his uncle, who had been the one to bring up the topic in the first place, agreed with only minor grumbling.
Not once in the entire discussion were Paul's wishes taken into account. It was only at the very end of the session that the Emperor turned to him with a smile and asked, "Well, and what does our young Lord Atreides think?"
"What I think matters little. The thoughts of an omega are clearly not as important as the rights of an alpha," Paul replied coldly.
In the morning, Paul waited in the palace gardens for his first chaperoned—interaction—with Feyd-Rautha. Duncan was only a few feet away, a seething, silent sentinel underneath a blooming wisteria.
Feyd-Rautha approached, muzzle over the lower half of his face. It was a device of brown leather and plasteel, the former indicating to Paul that it had been sourced from somewhere other than House Harkonnen; the color did not match the na-Baron's black robes, and Feyd-Rautha was meticulous in his appearance. The plasteel kept the alpha's mouth visible but caged. He was a predator hindered and on display, a dog that could not be trusted not to bite. His irritation was clear with each heavy step he took towards Paul and the harshness of his voice when he asked, "What was the point of making me wear this if you're still going to be watched by a nursemaid?"
Paul thought, Ah, what courtship! What romance! He said, "The point was to convince your uncle to retract his demand—but I suppose that he is willing to humiliate you, his own heir, in order to humiliate House Atreides."
"The demand was mine." The alpha sat next to him. "I want you. But our Houses are feuding, and I've no authority to speak in the Landsraad—yet. I had to have my uncle declare my suit for me. And as for this—" He pointed to the muzzle, bared his black and gleaming teeth behind the plasteel barrier. "I can stomach this humiliation if it allows me time with you."
Ignoring Feyd-Rautha's response, Paul simply said, "Duncan will remain where he is."
"If it must be so, then fine." Feyd-Rautha sat beside him. "Here—a gift for you," said the Harkonnen. He produced a gold bangle with a single bezel-set emerald. Simple, but well-crafted. An offering that suited Paul's tastes—but also gave Feyd-Rautha access to the scent glands in his wrists!
Extremely aware of Duncan's gaze, Paul tacitly accepted the gift, rolling back the sleeve of his tunic and presenting Feyd-Rautha with his bare wrist. He noted the eagerness with which Feyd-Rautha slipped the bangle over his hand, was careful not to react when he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the line of Paul's tendon.
Feyd-Rautha murmured, "Lovely."
"Which is lovelier? To have an omega to warm your bed, or to have Caladan within your holdings?"
"How cynical you are!" cried Feyd-Rautha in mock surprise. "Has House Atreides taught you nothing of self-worth?"
Paul asked, "Would you have gone through all this effort if I weren't a highborn omega?"
The alpha leaned in very, very close. Paul could see his long, pale eyelashes, could smell the leather of the muzzle. Feyd-Rautha purred, "If you weren't a highborn omega, then I know I would already have made you mine—our courtship would not have had such obstacles—"
From beneath the wisteria tree, Duncan whistled sharply. "Hey! I want to see some distance!"
"Such as that," said Feyd-Rautha with disgust as he drew back. "The purpose of this contraption is allow us more intimacy without interruption."
Archly, Paul said, "The purpose of the muzzle is to keep you from sinking your teeth into my neck. The purpose of Duncan is to make sure that you do not dishonor me in any other way."
"Dishonor? That's an insult. I only intend to worship you, Paul."
A startled, disbelieving laugh escaped Paul's lips. "The things you say!"
"That you've not heard such before only tells me that you haven't been properly appreciated."
"And what does your appreciation entail?"
Feyd-Rautha stroked the gold bangle on Paul's wrist. "Adorning you as you deserve, for one."
"I'm a duke's son, not a concubine."
"And yet you wear this so well," said Feyd-Rautha. "Do you prefer rings? Or maybe a collar necklace? Pearls—or diamonds—"
Paul lightly touched his neck, fingers just brushing his scent gland. "Pearls tend to hold the perfume of the skin. It would keep my scent. That's what you would prefer, isn't it?"
"How well you understand my preferences already!" Feyd-Rautha exclaimed.
He could not help it—he laughed again, louder this time, more freely, though still more in disbelief than out of actual humor. Acutely aware of Duncan's attention, Paul lowered his voice and asked Feyd-Rautha, "What do you know of mine?"
The alpha gave him a puzzled frown.
"Do you think I enjoy having my status used against me? To be forced into an intimate situation not of my choosing?" Paul flicked the front of the leather muzzle around Feyd-Rautha's face, relished how the alpha blinked rapidly in surprise. "Perhaps you don't see this as humiliation. I do. I accept this because it must be—you forced the issue in front of the Landsraad—but you have only the right to court me, Feyd-Rautha. You do not have my approval. You will not have my hand in marriage."
There! There was the reason for the muzzle—to protect him from an alpha's fangs! Feyd-Rautha's lips were pulled back into a snarl, his teeth bared, his blue eyes alight with fury. A formidable, fearsome figure, so much so that in his peripheral vision Paul saw Duncan swiftly approaching, fists clenched. But then Feyd-Rautha's expression shifted. It did not soften, but the anger faded into something more considering, more calculating.
"Of course you say that now," Feyd-Rautha murmured. "Today is only the first of our meetings. There will be many more. Courtship takes time, after all. And you already wear one of my gifts."
Paul said, "Perhaps I'll lose it in one of Kaitain's lakes. I can be so clumsy, sometimes."
"You are grace personified," said Feyd-Rautha. It was said without pause and with utmost sincerity. The fervor in his voice startled Paul into contemplative silence. An interesting statement—refusing to acknowledge that Paul might simply toss his gift away by complimenting him.
Grace personified. What ridiculousness!
The na-Baron said, "So, you do blush. See? My perseverance is rewarded."
Paul withheld a scoff. The gall of this man! The audacity! Paul stood just as Duncan reached them. "If this is to be the first of many meetings, then you won't mind if I cut this one short."
Duncan gave Feyd-Rautha a scathing glare, then said to Paul, "That's enough for today. I'll escort you back to your assigned quarters."
"Thank you, Duncan." Paul turned to Feyd-Rautha. "Another time, na-Baron."
The corner of Feyd-Rautha's lip twitched. "The next time we meet," he said, "I'll have another gift for you. A collar necklace of pearls, as we discussed. Cream-colored, to better complement your complexion."
He was too bold by far!
Get whatever you wish. I'd like to see you try and make me wear it! thought Paul.