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Feyd-Rautha is well aware that there are many things from his early childhood that he does not remember. Gaps within his memory, from things too terrible for his mind to heal from at such a tender age. He does not dwell too much in the past, whatever has molded him into the man he is today only made him stronger, harsher. Those days, however, come back to him with absurd clarity.
It had been two years since his mother had passed. Two years since he left his homeworld to live with his estranged uncle. Feyd had had the grace of a caged animal then. Something small and feral, that bit and scratched even the hand that fed him. The Baron has found some amusement in that, he thinks. Maybe it has been that untamable energy that has caught the Baron's interest, that made him wish to take Feyd under his wing. He was smart then already, he was quick to learn the rules of the game that allowed him to live another day. And yet, he was still a child.
Kaitain had been the third world he visited. He does not remember what kind of business brought his uncle there at the time and he does not remember why he was brought along. Perhaps, that had been the first test his uncle had put him through to decide if he really should favor him over his brother and name him his successor. At the time, Feyd did not care about succession or power, he only wished to be left alone. Today, he recognizes solitude wasn't what he truly desired, but company that did not bring harm. Warmth. It was hard to understand warmth for a child born on a frozen planet.
Feyd had been nine, which meant he was seven. The boy.
The first time he had seen him, hiding behind his father's legs, Feyd-Rautha had not thought highly of him. He could not have fathom the idea that the boy would become his entire world. A scrawny little thing, with bright green eyes too big for his head, freckled cheeks, and rosy pouty lips. The boy looked like just one of those cherub statues that adorned fountains. Feyd had been skinny himself, but the other one had been small. Something that refused to grow in the space he had. A runt, his uncle would have said. And yet, too big for this world.
Feyd-Rautha had no contact with other kids besides the sons and daughters of the servants long left behind at Lankiveil. The children here, sons of Lords and Ladies, seemed to avoid him like the plague. He was only starting to understand the weight of the name Harkonnen and the feelings it instilled in others. One day, he would yearn for that fear, for its raw power, for respect. At nine, he was just upset and confused.
"My name is Paul Atreides. What's your name?" The boy had smiled at him.
"Mine's Feyd-Rautha." At the time, he was wise enough to know what it meant. What they were. "I am from House Harkonnen."
If Paul knew they were meant to be blood enemies, he did not show it. "Do you want to play with me?"
They rolled around on the grass, green as Feyd had never seen before. They tipped their feet in fountains and chased butterflies. Paul had laughter like a wind chime, genuine and unashamed like nothing he knew in Giedi Prime. For a couple of days, he was free to just be and be with Paul. Until his brother caught him by the back of his shirt and dragged him away.
"Don't let uncle catch you dead hanging out with the Atreides brat. Don't let him get a sniff of it, do you hear it? House Atreides and Harkonnen are natural enemies. Don't forget that."
But how could he, when Paul Atreides was like the sun? When those moments of happiness were worth any beatings? When he looked at him with those huge eyes, those pouty lips of a child that has never been told "no" before?
"Feyd, you are my very best friend." He was told, when they were both lying down on the grass, staring at the empty fake sky of Kaitain.
Feyd had never had a friend before, but in an instant, he knew it to be true. "And you are mine too, Paul."
"And we will always be friends, forever." Paul closed his eyes, squirming closer to him. Even at nine, Feyd-Rautha was a man of promise.
The next time he saw Paul, he was fifteen, making the boy thirteen. Feyd had finally started growing into his body. His arms had muscles and his hands had been washed in blood. He had known women and killed enough men that he had started to forget what their individual faces looked like. He had learned the meaning of the symbol that he carried and made the Baron's will more frequently than he liked to tell. He had conscience, in a way, of the attack dog his uncle had made out of him. He thought he had grown out of his childlike ways.
Paul had grown as well. His expression was mature beyond his years, despite the lankiness of his long limbs. He made Feyd think of a fawn, ready for slaughter. It would be too easy to go for his throat, rabid. Yet those green eyes pinned him to the floor and undressed his soul in a way he could not understand. Feyd wanted to sit and roll for him.
He tried to keep his distance. Keep his expression serious and cold. He did not bother to look down on him when he came to him, as he knew he would. Those days are over, he wanted to say. Feyd-Rautha is now Giedi Prime's revered na-Baron, a hunting dog. If he knew the man who fell for him at the arena, the blood on his hands, would he regret his words? Would he hate him?
Hiding behind a large tree, looking at the same fake sky, Paul examined him like a bug. "You've grown."
"So did you." Does he know, how beautiful he looks? Of course, he does. In Caladan, he is a little prince, immaculate and perfect. Holy. Everything Feyd-Rautha is never going to be. Never could.
"I missed you." It's a lie.
Feyd-Rautha can see right past him. He has had enough women on his bed. Dealt with enough advisors and good-intended nobles. Paul is still young and maybe he does not do that on purpose, but Feyd knows. Those eyes are the eyes of a fox. Intelligent and beautiful, ready to seduce and to manipulate. Not that it matters. He would do anything Paul asked of him, he knows. Paul is going to grow into a beautiful man in a couple of years.
It's easy to pretend. To welcome the warmth of a hug. To forget about how Paul probably has dozens of other "best friends" that he goes to. That he hasn't thought about him in years, while Feyd has dreamed about him every day. Chasing after his own tail, the one thing he will never have.
Those long fingers touching the muscle on his arm, on his chest. The thought of him touching another. "You got stronger too. I have been training a lot, with Gurney and Duncan... I am not weak, but I just can't put up muscle like you."
"I will be your muscle. You got to be the brain for both of us."
Paul laughs. He is the sun.
He squints closer, almost on his lap now. Feyd blushes. "Feyd, let's make another pact. One day, when you become the Baron, we will end the Kanly between our families, you and I. So we can be friends without anyone getting upset or grounded. And then we will be able to hang out all the time and you can visit me on Caladan! And I can visit you!"
"Really?"
"Yes! And I will tell you everything about Caladan! And you can take me to watch one of your fights!" Feyd smiles. He doesn't think Paul would like to watch one of his fights. "Oh. Your teeth are black now."
"You dislike it?"
Instead of answering, Paul holds his face between his hands and squeezes. Obediently, he opens his mouth, letting the Atreides boy inspect him. Paul is a curious thing, running the sharp of his teeth with the tips of his two fingers. Hasn't his father taught him not to put his hands just anywhere? Isn't he worried that Feyd could bite him and refuse to let go?
"Is this part of war paint? Is it permanent? What does it taste like?"
"Wanna find out?"
"Do you have it with you?"
Feyd leaned forward, sealing their lips together.
For a moment, they both froze. It had not been his first kiss, but it felt like it. Both of them with wide-open eyes, staring at each other in surprise. He thought Paul was going to push him away for his boldness, for stepping out of line, for ruining their precious friendship. Instead, Paul closed his first, sighting against Feyd-Rautha's lips, which made him smile, before deepening the kiss.
Paul parted his lips for him, audaciously reaching back with his tongue to touch his, to contour the inside of his teeth until they were both panting, Paul on his lap, hands fisted on the front of Feyd's shirt. When they both separated and Paul smiled at him, his mouth was also dyed black. They were one thing, different but the same.
He never got to know what the Duke said when he found out, if he ever did.
He did not think he would get to see Paul again, not everything. Not like that. Not with a different name, splattering blood around, slaughtering the Baron like a pig. Blue in blue eyes rigid, a voice that commanded crowds, that could bring any men to their knees.
There was recognition in his eyes when he looked at him, but not warmth, not care. So alien to the boy he knew. The prey became predator. And Feyd-Rautha couldn't wait to know that side of him. Forever is forever after all.