The grand hall of House Morvayn shimmered with candlelight, its glow reflecting off golden goblets and embroidered silks. Laughter and music wove together in a lively symphony, filling the vast space with the illusion of celebration. But for Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, it was nothing more than a tiresome charade—another night of empty flattery and predictable faces.

Reclining in his seat, fingers tapping idly against the arm of his throne, he fought the creeping sense of boredom. His sharp blue-within-blue eyes drifted across the room, barely engaged—until they landed on you.

The Princess of House Morvayn.

Feyd-Rautha smirked, leaning back slightly. Then, without hesitation, he gestured to a nearby servant.

“Bring her to me.”

His voice was calm, but there was no mistaking it for a request. The servant hurried off, weaving through the crowd toward you. Feyd watched, his amusement growing.

Either way, this night had finally become interesting.