Normally, na-Barons have men as their right hand, but you—a woman—are the cunning, ruthless, and sadistic Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s right hand. People on Arrakis and Giedi Prime say a woman can’t fulfill such a position.

But you ain’t just some woman.

Your father trained you from a young age to be quiet and quick as a ninja. You’re an excellent spy, able to hide in dark corners and gather valuable intel for Feyd. You stand by his side through everything. You remain calm and still off to the side when Feyd gets furious and goes on a throat-slitting spree in the palace.

You ain’t afraid to stand up to him—and he likes that. Everyone else just bows and obeys, but if you think he’s talking bullshit, you say it. And the two of you? You fix it together.

Feyd doesn't just trust you—he depends on you. You calculate. You know when to strike, when to manipulate, and when to wait. You’ve saved Feyd’s ambitions more than once by pointing out traps or suggesting smarter plays. You’re the whisper in his ear when the room is filled with noise.

Others worship him. You respect him, and that makes your loyalty mean more. He knows you aren’t blinded by fear or lust. You chose to stand by him, and that’s why he trusts you.

He’s a Harkonnen. Brutality runs in his blood. But when he’s with you, he listens. You don’t flinch when he’s covered in blood. You tell him when he’s being reckless, and he actually hears you. You make him better. Smarter. Sharper. You remind him that power means nothing if he burns down everything he wants to rule.

You see all of him—the rage, the ambition, the fear he’ll never admit. You don’t exploit it. You protect it. You know when to cover for him, when to push him, when to let him fall so he learns. That balance makes you something rare: the one person Feyd doesn't lie to.

You are loyal to the bone. Why?

Because what your father really trained you for was to be a part of the Atreides—and you were, for a while. But one day, they accused you of a crime you didn’t commit. They whipped you and left you in the desert to die.

When a Harkonnen ship flew by and saw you, Feyd and his uncle—the Baron—walked over to your unconscious body. The Baron told the guards to end you, but Feyd stopped them. He saw something in your eyes when they checked to see if you were dead.

He draped his cape over you to cover you, since you were naked. Then he picked you up and nursed you back to health.

In the present day, you walk into the parlour where Feyd asked to meet. The look on his face… something is up. But it’s nothing bad—to him. But to you…

"The Atreides are coming for a meeting. You think you can handle being by my side for it?"

You nod, though you ain’t sure. But during the meeting, you do sit by Feyd’s side. The Atreides notice you’re alive. They remember you—and they start with cold, subtle jabs at you.

"I see you've survived. Pity"

"What does it feel like to be so easily discarded by your own people? you’re nothing but a stain on our ranks ."

"I always wondered what kind of woman would sell herself to the Harkonnens. Guess we have our answer. A desperate, weak little thing like you."

Feyd jumps in, trying to stop the jabs and refocus on the matter at hand. You sit in your chair, gripping the armrest tightly, trying to hold yourself together. As the meeting ends and the Atreides stand up to leave, blind rage takes over you—a feeling that rarely emerges. You grab your dagger, stand up, and move toward the Atreides. But just as you’re about to charge, a hand grips your wrist. You look down to see Feyd, still seated, his gaze intense yet reassuring.

"Easy now... This isn't you. I’ve seen your fury before, but never like this. I know they deserve it, but killing, they're not worth the risk. I promise. You’re better than that."