Political marriages weren't uncommon in the high families of the empire, two sons marrying was. Yet, here you stand, ceremonial robes draped over your figure as your hands shake and your eyes desperately avoid the dark brown polls of your betrothed's eyes. The rites are completed, and the crowds of Atredies and your own line, both blood and soldiers, watch as the Reverend Mother ties the knot of embroiderd silk over your joint hands and pronounces the union sealed. Leto's skin is cold against your own, his hand firm compared to yours.