Clouds of sand filled the air, making it difficult to see further than just a few feet ahead of me. I could tell we had passed the barrier shield and began to enter a building, perhaps a part of the palace, as the light being reflected through the sand-filled air disappeared and instead was swallowed by the darkness of the poorly lit interior.
The dust began to settle and I could see the many soldiers, Saudakar, and Harkonnens on the other side of the room, facing the way we came. No one was charging anymore, but the Fremen crept forward, not too slowly, but simply moving forward calculatedly.
Paul led the front. While everyone else remained alert, Paul walked straight ahead with powerful strides and I followed his gaze to see where his focus had narrowed. Hidden on the other side of the room behind a line of soldiers was the Baron.
The soldiers parted for Paul as if expecting him to say or do something. The Baron's eyes widened, clearly fearful, but he quickly covered his features with a smug smile.
Paul had reached the Baron who opened his mouth as if to speak, but Paul's blade had already sliced cleanly across his throat. The Baron made a choking sound before falling backwards onto himself and the floor.
There were audible gasps, likely from myself as well. I blinked and pulled myself together, reminding myself that the Baron deserved this. For what he did to House Atriedes. For what he did to Leto Atriedes. Both of them.
The Saudakar reacted quickly as if to reach for Paul, but the Fremen behind him were faster, quickly disarming the guards before they could do any harm.
The room was still and silent once again. Paul focused his attention on the side of the room where an older gentleman, the Emperor, stood. He stared at Paul, challenging his strong gaze, but you could tell from his posture and tense muscles that this man was afraid.
"You know why I've summoned you here," Paul said loudly to the Emperor, "I assume you will not be fighting for yourself. Who will represent you? Who will fight me?"
Summoned? Fight? What was he talking about? And why didn't I know?
The Emperor was quiet for a moment. "Are you sure this is-"
"I am sure." Paul lowered his gaze at the older man, his eyes darkening. "I have summoned you here to challenge you for your role as Emperor. Either you will fight me or you will have someone fight in your place."
Paul wanted to be Emperor? When did he decide this? Why did he want this? Why was I so confused?
The Emperor motioned to his side, and a familiar tall pale face stepped out towards Paul.
Both the Fremen and the Harkonnens lined up against the walls as Feyd-Rautha and Paul met in the center. My stomach turned, unsettled by the uncertainty of the situation. Why didn't Paul tell me about any of this? Will I have to watch one of these two die? Why would Paul want to be Emperor?
"I'll kill you, Atriedes," Feyd spoke in a deep tone, but he didn't speak in warning. He said it as a fact.
Paul shook his head and blinked slowly, his face emotionless. "No. You won't."
Feyd pulled out a knife from his side and Paul's hand tightened around the grip of his already bloodied sword that was used to kill the Baron just moments ago. I wondered if Paul was scared. I wondered if Paul had thought of me at all throughout this whole interaction. All of this power and leadership might be his life now, but he was still a the center of mine.
Paul made the first move, taking a jab at Feyd who dodged it swiftly. He quickly responded with a sweep to Paul's legs which he easily moved away from.
Attempting another strike, Paul aimed for Feyd's side, but was quickly blocked by Feyd's other arm. Paul brought his leg up instantly to defend himself from Feyd's fast fist. The two of them continued like the for a few moments, swinging at each other just to block with equal skill and strength.
Feyd raised his arm and stabbed downward towards Paul's face, but Paul swiftly grabbed his wrist and redirected it towards the ground. On his other side, Feyd tried again and to stab from the other side, but Paul pushed his elbow to the side, allowing Feyd to slit his own wrist.
The sight was gross, but not enough to phase Feyd. Feyd raised his arm to try again, but Paul was faster. He quickly swept his knife alongside Feyd's torso, leaving a long gash. This time Feyd reacted, ever so slightly, but it was enough for Paul to grab hold of Feyd'd arms and twist himself so that Feyd was now being held at Paul's mercy, with a blade against his throat.
"DO YOU YIELD?"
The room went silent, even more so than it was before, if possible. I stiffened as I realized what Paul had asked.
This was not something that Feyd could yield to. At least, I don't think so. This was for the position of Emperor, for goodness sake, there was no yielding. What was Paul trying to do?
Feyd didn't say anything, but his chest moved up and down quickly as he heaved heavy breaths, trying to collect himself despite Paul's blade.
"I said," Paul tried again, this time with less force, "do you yield?"
Feyd-Rautha turned his head slightly to look at the Emperor as if asking for permission. Waiting to see if he said anything.
"He-he cannot yield," the Emperor stuttered, confused. "If you wish to become Emperor, you must defeat him-"
Paul pressed his blade deeper into Feyd's skin, narrowing his eyes at the Emperor. "If I slice his throat, that is valuable Harkonnen blood wasted. Do not make yourself a fool."
As surprising as it was to hear Paul say this, I knew it was true. Feyd-Rautha was a highly skilled fighter and soldier, what use is there in killing him when Paul is offering to spare his life? What would come from the death of a politically useful and highly skilled individual?
The Emperor did not respond, but his mouth parted in concern as Feyd struggled to breathe under Paul's grip. Suddenly, Feyd had managed to use one of his arms to slip out from under Paul and onto his side, grabbing Paul's wrist.
I gasped and watched as the two struggled for Paul's blade. I held my breath as Feyd inched for it, knowing that if he were to grab hold of it, Paul was dead. But that did not happen. Just as fast as it all happened, Paul had twisted himself against Feyd-Rautha and managed to grab hold of his own blade again, holding Feyd back into their original position and pressing the tip of the knife into his neck ever so slightly, just enough to draw blood.
I gripped my hand so tightly I could feel my nails piercing my skin.
"Do you yield?" Paul asked again, straightening his back to convey his influence. His power in this scenario. Feyd could not beat him. The Emperor cannot beat him.
It was scary, embarrassing, even, to watch Paul take power over the Emperor like this. Everyone in this room knew the Emperor had lost. Feyd was as good as dead unless the Emperor would yield. Paul had already won, but he was going to go even further to make sure it was on his terms.
The Emperor said nothing and his eyes scanned the two men on the ground as if he was trying to find a possible way for Feyd to escape. There was none, though. This was it.
A wave of defeat washed over the Emperor's face as he came to this realization. He blinked and waved his hand as his eyes met the ground, giving a slight nod and muttering "Release the boy."
Paul did just that, pushing off Feyd as he stood up. No one moved or made a sound, including Feyd, who leaned back on his elbows on the ground, bleeding, but relieved and very much alive.
Much to everyone's surprise, Paul reached out an arm towards Feyd and I realized he was offering his hand to Feyd.
Feyd's brows raised in surprise, as well. His eyes flickered between Paul's hand and solemn expression before reluctantly taking it, allowing Paul to help him to his feet.
It was an odd sight to see, the two boys working in cooperation. But my thoughts quickly corrected themselves when I realized there was nothing odd about it at all, not really. Paul showed an incredible act of mercy. Feyd took his defeat honourably, despite the shame it will forever undoubtedly bring him.
The room was silent for a few moments, with nothing but sounds of heavy breathing. Then, from the Fremen, a chant began to start.
"Paul Muad'dib, Paul Muad'dib," the Fremen began to chant quietly, but their voices quickly rose. "Paul Muad'dib! Paul Muad'dib!"
This was it. Right? I guess this was the part where Paul won. On his terms, nonetheless. Not the Emperor's, not the Bene Gesserit's, his.
The older Emperor raised a hand, and the crowd fell back into minimal silence. Not total silence, because the Fremen had no respect for these out-of-world invaders, but just enough to hear him speak.
"You will receive your title," The Emperor spoke. "I will also request that you marry my eldest daughter, Irulan."
***
i am now graduated hehe (well not yet, i havent had convocation) but my thesis is submitted and my final exams are done! yipee!
it is so fascinating how, at the time of writing, we had initially thought feyd-rautha was going to be played by either ezra miller or austin butler. i chose ezra initially all those chapters ago because he suited the image i had of feyd much better, but clearly i was wrong. it's also cool that now i have gifs of feyd-rautha i can include instead of random ass ezra miller gifs like before
also, i know that the whole yielding thing completely goes against the original storyline but 1. it helps me with the resolution/development i want in the end and 2. i felt like it was a more modern take. i think having paul be merciful allows me to write him into the person i want to be. killing feyd feels too cold, especially with my story. let me know your thoughts though!
with love,
via <3