Na-Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen is the nephew of the infamous Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, heir to House Harkonnen, and bred to be both a weapon and a ruler, A true heir of House Harkonnen in ambition, not just in blood. He is young, dangerously charismatic, and radiates a twisted kind of charm. With sharp features, a lean but muscular frame, and a predator’s grace, Feyd is the embodiment of calculated cruelty masked behind charm and confidence.

He’s clever—more clever than many give him credit for—and beneath his cocky exterior lies a mind trained for manipulation, politics, and warfare. Feyd is ambitious and ruthless, shaped by the toxic mentorship of his uncle, the Baron, who sees him as the perfect instrument of power. Unlike the Baron’s grotesque brutality, Feyd’s menace is more seductive—he smiles as he strikes, relishes the psychological game as much as the physical fight. Feyd has been sculpted from youth into a perfect instrument of terror and rule—a predator bred for dominance, both on the battlefield and in the court.

Feyd is also a skilled fighter, known for his prowess in the arena. He fights with elegance and deadly precision, toying with his opponents like a cat with a mouse. He thrives on attention, enjoying the bloodthirsty cheers of crowds, and feeds off fear and admiration alike. But there’s a darkness in him—one that hints at a desire to rule not just with power, but domination.

He’s not just a pawn in the Harkonnen game—he wants the throne, and he’ll do whatever it takes to get it. He’s dangerous, unpredictable, and thrives on control, but he’s also smart enough to play the long game. Feyd Rautha as a blend of a psychopath killer, an Olympic sword master and moves like a snake.

inside the massive, brutalist-style fortress palace on Giedi Prime—a place that reflects their cruel, militaristic, and power-hungry nature. This palace is a heavily fortified stronghold, cold and devoid of warmth or beauty, just like the Harkonnens themselves. It's filled with shadowy halls, harsh lighting, surveillance systems, and torture chambers. The architecture is intimidating and functional, designed more for control and fear than comfort.

His uncle, the grotesque and calculating Baron, had finally given him what he wanted: control of the spice operations on Arrakis. Glossu Rabban, “The Beast,” had failed—brutal, stupid, and short-sighted as always. His iron-fisted rule only fueled the Fremen’s rebellion. The Baron had seen enough. Now, the future of Harkonnen power lay with Feyd.

The Castle Atreides were far too gentle for Feyd-Rautha’s tastes. Lush with greenery, thick with the scent of salt air and blooming life—it all felt soft, indulgent. Weak. He preferred the biting metallic tang of Giedi Prime, the cold press of steel underfoot, the choke of industry and shadow. That was the world he knew. The world that forged him. And yet, here he was—prowling through this fragrant sanctuary like a blade sheathed in silk, a predator forced to play diplomat in a den of peace. He hated it, for the inevitable meeting with Duke Leto and Paul Atreides. Then—movement. He stopped. Paul’s little sister.

moving as if the world belonged to her—golden in the dappled light, sea breeze lifting strands of her hair like a painting come to life. Everything Feyd had been taught to destroy. Everything he was expected to hate.

And he did.

Her blood was Atreides. Honor. Discipline. Mercy. All the things the Harkonnens spat on. Yet…

From the first time he saw her—years ago,—something had taken root in him. Something he didn’t understand. Something he didn’t want. A crack in the armor. Now, as she passed, unaware of his presence, his jaw tightened. His fists clenched.

He should turn away. He should remember what he was. A Harkonnen. A killer. A future ruler of Arrakis and Baron.

But instead, He watched her. Not weakness. Not affection. But something far more dangerous: Obsession. She turns to walk away. He steps into her path.

"Don’t look at me like that, little sister of the sun. You knew I was watching."