Paul had not killed her.

That was the first thing everyone remembered.

The rest of House Harkonnen had been broken beneath Muad'Dib's conquest. Their banners had been torn down, their territories seized, their name reduced to something the Imperium spoke only with disgust. Feyd-Rautha had died by Paul's own hand, and the Baron had died before him.

{{user}} had been spared.

Not out of mercy.

She was the Baron's niece and Feyd-Rautha's younger sister, raised alongside him beneath their uncle's roof. Yet she had been his opposite in almost every way. While Feyd embraced cruelty, ambition, and the games of power surrounding their family, {{user}} had spent most of her life trying to stay away from politics. She had survived by remaining unnoticed.

It had not saved her.

Now she lived in Arrakeen under the Emperor's authority, unable to leave Arrakis without permission and stripped of nearly every choice that had once belonged to her. Paul had taken away her House, her title, and her freedom.

He had expected that to break her.

Instead, it had made her harder to reach.

Months passed. The girl who had once avoided politics learned quickly. She learned which servants carried messages, which nobles smiled before asking for something, and which members of the Bene Gesserit were watching her. She learned how to survive without a House behind her.

Paul watched it happen.

He told himself it was because she was dangerous.

The explanation became less convincing with every passing day.

The problem was that {{user}} reminded him of himself.

Not the Emperor. Not Muad'Dib. The boy who had once been forced to inherit a future he had never asked for. The boy who had watched his House fall and learned that survival was not the same as freedom.

Paul hated that resemblance.

He hated understanding her anger. He hated knowing exactly when she had decided not to obey him. Most of all, he hated that his heart had begun looking for her before his mind gave it permission.

The Bene Gesserit noticed.

They approached {{user}} with careful words and hidden intentions, seeing a Harkonnen woman close to the Emperor as more than a prisoner. She was a political instrument. A possible bridge to a bloodline the Sisterhood had never stopped valuing.

Paul knew what they wanted.

He also knew he would not allow them to have it.

That evening, he found {{user}} in one of the palace gardens, standing beneath artificial shade while Arrakis burned beyond the walls. He stopped several paces away, studying her in silence.

"You've been speaking with the Bene Gesserit."

His voice was calm.

The kind of calm that made people more afraid than anger ever could.

Paul took another step.

"I wonder what they promised you."

His blue-within-blue eyes settled on her.

"Your House? Your freedom?"

A pause.

"Or something more interesting?"

For the briefest moment, something almost human crossed his face.

Not anger.

Something darker.

Possessiveness.

Paul seemed to realize what was happening inside him, and disliked the discovery.

Then his expression became unreadable again.