jaybird

a metaphor for a period of development when someone or something is changing 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The heighliner was cold and dark. You were packed like sardines in a can in that room. (Y/N) stood next to her mother, just a little ways from Paul, his eyes down toward the floor.

“Shield,” she heard an officer say in the dark. 

A sea of blue flickers and waves washed over the group of Atreides soldiers, a small hum ringing throughout the air. She could see the silhouette of her mother upfront. She was bathed in orange fabric that veiled over her, protecting from the harsh sun, and gems from around the universe that covered her face in a skull-like way. 

The gangway of the ship lowered slowly onto the ground and blaring rays swooped in, invading any and all space. A dust and spice mixture pooled into the space craft. It filled the air with a slight cinnamon smell. The ramp flew to the ground with a soft thud. 

(Y/N) brought her hand to her eyes, relieving them from the ache of the sun. She was blinded from it, her head throbbing slightly. Momentarily, she saw her father look back at her and her brother, giving them a small smile. 

“My lungs taste the air of time, blown past falling sand.” 

She heard Gurney Halleck say, suddenly the blare of bagpipes began as the player walked down the aisle. The procession of people began moving down the ramp and onto the green carpet with the Atreides insignia. Gurney Halleck led the way before giving way to the duke. The Warmaster walked back to the ramp to lend a hand to Lady Jessica and (Y/N). 

(Y/N) took the hand of Gurney, carefully stepping down from the ramp. 

“Thank you, Gurney” she said to him while looking out at the barren land, her eyes reflecting the overpowering sunlight. 

“You're welcome.”

She continued to walk with her family to where Thufir Hawat was waiting down the carpet. The land felt cold, like a remnant of the past still weighed heavy on the dunes. The cinnamon smell crept into her nose, it infected its way down her throat and into her lungs. Her head felt like it had a band wrapped thousands upon thousands times around it. Sweat trickled and beaded at her hairline, (Y/N) took her hand and wiped off the sweat on her brow. 

The Harkonnens must have done a number on this place. 

In a matter of moments, she saw her brother run up to where the Mentat was standing. Paul went and hugged Thufir Hawat, exchanging words with the older man. After a minute, they caught up with Paul.

“My Lord,” The Mentat bowed to her father. 

“How are you, old friend?” Duke Leto asked, clapping him on the forearm. 

“My advance team has secured the city. We're still smoothing out some rough spots.” Thufir Hawat informed. 

Thufir turned toward Lady Jessica and her daughter, 

“My Ladies,” he said, bowing to them. 

They all began walking toward the ‘thopter that would take them into the city, Arrakeen. (Y/N) walked next to her mother, her orange veil sprawling out in the wind. Across the tarmac, (Y/N) saw a group of people clustered together, looking at her, with a look in their eyes that could only be described as reverence. 

“Lisan al-Gaib!” 

Lisan al-Gaib… The Voice of the Outer World… 

The chanting of the name only got stronger as they continued to walk. 

The Bene Gesserit have been here, planting whispers of a messiah.

The whispers began in her mind again, their pounding and pounding echoed off her skull. It was like this place, Arrakis, made it worse, like a poison that couldn’t be cured.  

“Don't be fooled by the welcome. They follow their old masters’ rules. Mandatory attendance. That's Harkonnen love out there.” She heard Thufir say, with lightness in his voice, but her eyes were still drawn to the people shouting. It wasn’t until she felt an arm on her shoulder that she was brought out of her mind. Jumping slightly, she looked over to see Thufir Hawat. 

“My Lady, are you alright?” he asked. 

(Y/N)’s voice was shaky and a little jittery. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” she replied as she walked on the ornithopter, sitting next to her brother. Slowly her breathing returned to normal and the world didn’t feel like it was collapsing anymore. 

Thufir Hawat walked into the ornithopter and took place in the front of the ‘thopter, ahead of her. 

“Let's get you out of the sun” he said, the sides of the ‘thopter coming down. 

Lady Jessica took her orange veil off and threw it over her head, onto her shoulders. (Y/N) looked over to her mother. To her, it seemed like the veil she wore was a well manufactured mask. It held her away from people, keeping her safe from harsh glares, like a second pair of eyelids. 

The wings extended from the sides and slowly a rumble spilled out from them, the rumbling quickly turned into an extremely fast whirring sound.

“They were pointing at us,” Paul started, his voice low, “What are they shouting?”

“Lisan al-Gaib, ‘Voice from the Outer World.’” Lady Jessica responded.

“It’s their name for messiah,” (Y/N) added to her mother’s comment, earning a look from the corner of Lady Jessica’s eye. The younger woman sunk back into her seat, observing the conversation in front of her. 

“It means the Bene Gesserit have been at work here.” Her mother said. 

“Planting superstitions,” Paul remarked. 

“Preparing the way, Paul,” Lady Jessica said firmly, almost scolding, “These people have waited for centuries for the Lisan al-Gaib.. They see you, they see the signs.”

(Y/N) frozen in her seat, her forehead was clinched in thought. 

Signs? A messiah? Preparing the way? 

Suddenly, the night in the library made sense to (Y/N).  

The Gom-Jabbar… No! He would’ve been dead! Does mother think Paul is the Kwisatz Haderach? He can’t be. Mother had a son and a daughter, she didn’t follow the plan… They can’t use him, they can’t use me…

“They see what they've been told to see.” he whispered, lowly. 

Lady Jessica looked at Paul, like she had something else to say, but she looked ahead. 

Up ahead, Thufir Hawat touched a little button behind his ear with his thumb. 

“We're good to go.” he said. The ornithopter began ascending over the tarmac and joining together with the other ornithopters. 

They began flying over the steep rocks of Arrakis. The rocks were a beige, terracotta like color. They sprawled like the markings of sleeping giants over the terrain. They were curved slightly and jagged everywhere else. She laid her head all the way against her seat, her ear close to the glass. Fine granules of spice and sand hit across the windows next to (Y/N), the sound mimicked the soft thud of rain of Caladan. But the noise brought uneasiness into her body. It was like the whispers that occupied her mind were all awoken. Normally they were only brought on by the darkness, when the moon was blocked by dark, gray clouds like enemy soldiers tearing down her only shield, only light. But now, even with the sun, the whispers came down onto her mind like bullets in the distance. They raced around with mocking words that went on and on about Paul. They taunted her like hyenas sinking their teeth into helpless prey. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The halls of the fortress were as dull as the outside. Occasionally they would pass by art installations of sand worms and sand trout, but nothing was outstanding and life changing. She was bored and tired, her eyes were sunken into her face and it was like a sculptor came and carved deep lines under her eyes. 

“I don’t understand why I have to be here” (Y/N) said under her breath to her mother. 

“Well, I don’t know what to say then.” her mother stated, “this is the start of the things you need to learn on Arrakis.”

After what seemed like an eons long walk led by Thufir Hawat and followed by guards, they arrived in the dining room where a group of about 8 or so women stood in a line. (Y/N) looked around the room and saw a very familiar thing hanging on the wall.

The bull that killed my grandfather is still with us. 

Her thoughts were cut off by the words of Thufir Hawat, 

“Candidates for a housekeeper, my Lady.” he said, bowing, before walking away. The guards still in the room. 

She and her mother continued walking to the line of women. (Y/N) hands were laced in front of herself. She looked to her mother who was concentrating on one of the women in the line. 

“What is your name?” Lady Jessica asked a woman with blue within blue eyes and a small upside down crescent in between her eyebrows. 

“Shadout Mapes, my Lady.” the woman responds. 

She has a knife on her, hidden in her garments.

(Y/N) looks back at her mother who is still deeply focused on the woman in front of her. 

“The rest of you may go, thank you.” Lady Jessica dismisses them with a slight wave of her hand. 

The dining room was not waning with worry. It was mercurial, enough to drive men made from the silence. 

“Shadout,” Lady Jessica parrots,  “it’s an old Chakobsa word, ‘well-dipper.’” 

“She Fremin.” You’re Fremen

“You know the ancient tongues,” Shadout Mapes said, surprised. 

(Y/N) could tell that her mother was taken back by this. The acknowledgement and confirmation that the Missionaria Protectiva was at play. This action, no confirmation, let her know that her mother was only a woman. No matter how strong of a veil she placed over herself, light slips through the cracks. 

“I know many things. I know you have a weapon concealed in your bodice” The Lady responded cooly, trying to feign omniscience. 

The guards in the room placed their hands on their blades. They’d be ready in an instant if anything went wrong, if the heat caused the water to boil over. Lady Jessica’s hand moved at her side.

Not now

The guards resheathed their blades. 

“If you mean to harm me, I must warn you whatever you're hiding, it won't be enough.” She said, looking like a deity from eons ago. The golden rays, spilling in from the long windows, bathed her and left her covered in its striking shimmer. The essence that blinds men and stuns lambs. But for (Y/N), the gold tricked dreamers, fooled fools. 

“The weapon is meant as a gift if you are truly The One” Shadout Mapes came clean with, like a worshipper having been instilled by the fear of god. She took her hands to her body and pulled back beige robes. From her bodice, she pulled out a blade concealed in tan leather. 

“Do you know this?” “It’s a crysknife,” she acknowledged. 

(Y/N) scanned the blade. It was seemingly untouched by anguish, it carried sorrow, like the land who bred slow and painful killers or ones whose fear was enough to take you whole. Because when the mouth of god opens, only then are you able to face inevitable purgatory. Your feet will not make impressions on the ground, no footsteps carved from dead moss. All your weight goes from soles to souls, your being merely a shadow joining the rest. The guilt of unrighteousness and fear is one shared by the perpetrators, when He sinks his teeth into you. 

“Do you know its meaning?” The Shadout pushed. 

Lady Jessica alerted the guards with the same sign language as before. The guards took a step forward, blades reflecting the same light which basked their lady. 

“It’s a maker…” she whispered. 

Her words were interrupted with the keening of the giver. Lady Jessica’s eyes widened in shock, her words spinning off. 

“A maker of the deep desert!” She announced. “When you have lived with prophecy for so long, the moment of revelation is a shock. Lisan al-Gaib. The mother and the son.” 

Resheathing the knife, she grabbed Lady Jessica’s hand and placed the blade in her grasp, clasping her fingers over it. Lady Jessica covered Shadout’s hands. 

“It is yours.” she proclaimed, “tooth of Shai-Hulud.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Kasandra, 

I’m very surprised to say you’re wrong. The only tragedy that has so far occurred on Arrakis is Paul almost dying by Harkonnen controlled hunter-seeker. While I’m glad my brother isn’t dead, it’s a little bit of a shame he’s still here annoying us, well, me. 

It’s not as bad as they said it would be here. Outside the palace, there’s a small orchard of palm trees. The palms are treated better than most of the people here, they even have their own caretaker. It’s ironic that they grow in the desert and not by oasis. But it’s poetic, really, something implanted where they’re not supposed to be. Though it could just be my projecting. 

Since it’s too hot to go outside during the day, my time has been filled with picking drapes and household staff with my mother. I know people are born for a reason, especially Bene Gesserit, but I can’t help but feel like mine has been diminished even further than it was when Paul was born. My mother has been so absorbed by Paul, that to her I’m just her abomination. She's forcing me into a position that could be best described as a normal, noble woman. Do normal women push poison out of them? Do normal women have voices which invoke centuries worth of weaving? It’s like she scrapes me out of pictures, like an outlawed thing from Ix. Dutifully, she tries to hide me. Her latest plot in this scheme is to marry me off. I fear that she only has the idea of this plan, not the execution, better for me. Hopefully some drastic happens that confines me to this bell jar of a planet. That would be better than marrying some slimy, senile man. 

Much love, 

(Y/N) 

P.S. I’m sorry for not writing sooner. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air was surprisingly thin. Besides Thufir Hawat’s sulking, no one was perturbed at what had happened only days before. It’s like they saw Paul as a hero already. (Y/N) teeth grinded in her mouth as her lips pushed together in a grimace a blind man could know was angry and upset. If her feet weren’t human, foot shaped holes would've been tattooed into the cement floor. Silently, she walked around the chairs of the war room. 

“My lady…” she heard the low whisper of the greying Mentat. 

She stopped in her tracks and strided over to stand next to Thufir. 

“Yes, Thufir Hawat?” she questioned, annoyed, her voice forced. 

“Your mother wanted me to tell you that the knife that was given by the new housekeeper is now in your possession. 

“I understand.” she replied through gritted teeth. 

Like a lion, she continued her walk to her seat. The one to the right of the empty seat in the middle, the one to the right of her father’s seat. She allowed her hand to caress the concrete chair like it was a prize. Its coldness against her skin was like the rim of a golden trophy. Mindlessly, she nodded to the people sitting close by her. 

I see Paul hasn’t joined us yet… 

All of a sudden, Paul Atreides entered through the slate double doors. His head down, like a deer just learning how to walk. Or a man finding his feet in the desert. 

“Your first strategy meeting, Paul Atreides, who catches hunter-seekers in his bare hands.” Gurney said like a bard who regales tales of the fiercest warriors. 

Paul placed his hand against Gurney’s shoulder and whispered something indistinctly. Something green ran through (Y/N)’s veins. She was never as close as with Gurney as Paul was. She wasn’t even as close with Thufir Hawat as Paul was. It was like she had no one beside her father wherever she went. 

“Glad to see you're alive, brother.” (Y/N) said as he walked by her to get to the seat to her right.

“Sister, I’m glad to see you’re actually in the castle.” 

At this point, she was fuming. 

Does he know what Mother has planned for me? And now he taunts me with it!

Before Paul could even sit down, the loud roar of one of the officers announced the entry of the Duke himself. They all scrambled to their feet so as to not disrespect him. It was the type thing she wanted, the respect of others. Leto placed his hand on his daughter’s forearm. 

“No blows by crysknife sword yet?” he jested softly before gesturing to everyone to sit down. 

“Let’s get started,” he began, “Thufir, operations.”

“I secured a copy of the Harkonnens’ account books,” the room erupted with quiet murmurs.

“The Harkonnens were taking ten billion solaris out of here every year,” he recounted. 

(Y/N) sighed out, she knew that number was almost impossible for them to compare to. 

Well at least no one is never not in demand for spice.

Over the murmurs, proverbs of Gurney Halleck flowed over the room. 

“‘They shall suck the abundance of the seas, and the treasure hid in the sand.’”

“We won’t see profits like that for a while, not with the equipment they left us,” Thufir added. 

“How bad is it?” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Now they were out in the sand following Thufir who covered himself with a parasol as they walked to a spice carrier. 

The heat pounded against (Y/N)’s head. She could feel the water leaving her body. Not as sweat, but as gas that lifted from her skin and made her arms feel like freshly dried leather. She looked up to the sky, expecting to see a bird. Maybe some sort of desert hawk that soars above the sand as to not burn its talons.  

“These are spice silos. We're meant to fill every crate.” The parasol covered man divulged. 

“All of them?” Paul asked like a clueless fish who just swam and swam. 

“Every 25 standard days.” Thufir turned around to him to say. 

“Harkonnen sabotage slows us down.” The Mentat commented to the duke. 

“But who’s meant to arbitrate? Isn’t there a Judge of the Change to oversee the transition?” Paul questioned, again. 

Suddenly, she was snapped back into focus.

“Who did the Emperor appoint?” She asked, her eyes still laser focused on the sky. 

“Dr. Liet Kynes. Imperial Ecologist. Been here 20 years. Eccentric, from what I’m told,” Thufir described.

“I want to see these harvesting fields myself.” The Duke announced. 

“I wouldn’t recommend it, my Lord.” 

“Have this Judge of the Change accompany us,” he maintained. “A meeting’s long overdue. And we’ll get a bit of Imperial protection.” 

“A hostage,” Gurney chuckled, “I love it.” 

Thufir pressed his finger against his ear piece, like he had done before when he received a message. 

“He’s here, my Lord.” 

The thundering roar of ‘thopters raced above her head. 

Or maybe it was a vulture she was expecting to see soaring above her. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) stood next to her father again in the war room. She stood with Paul, Gurney, Thufir, and her father as they stood in a semicircle, listening to Duncan Idaho speak about his expedition in the deep desert. 

“For four weeks, I lived with the Fremen.” Duncan said like a born storyteller, “Hidden in the desert, in a community called a sietch. Stilgar, the leader of that sietch, has come with me to meet you, sire.”  

“This sietch, how is it hidden?” Duke Leto asked. 

“It’s underground, Arrakis is filled with caverns."

“How big is the place?” Paul implored in a voice that was just louder than a mumble. 

“I’d say 10,000 people.” Duncan answered before looking back at the Duke. “And there are hundreds of sietches.”  

“Millions of Fremen.” The duke murmured.

“You were right.” He said to Thufir Hawat. 

“The Harkonnen estimate was 50,000 for the whole planet.” The Mentat disclosed. 

“The Fremen watched me search for them for days,” Duncan noted, “I never saw them. Finally they sent a warrior out to kill me. And I gotta tell you, I have never come so close to dying. There's no finer fighter in the Imperium. They fight like demons.”

“Desert power,” Duke Leto walked closer to the man, “Duncan,” He shook his hand like an old friend, “Well done.” “Thank you, my Lord.” “Sire,” An officer said as he came into the room, “Their leader has a knife he won’t surrender, Sire.” 

A crysknife…

“It’s a crysknife,” Duncan explained, “It’s sacred to his people.” 

“Let him pass.” The Duke motioned. 

The double doors opened and a man wearing a billowing cloak walked through the door. His head was down and you couldn’t see his eyes. But from the way he was walking, the way his feet were hitting the ground in long strides, you could tell he was serious. He had an agenda. 

“Stop there,” Gurney commanded as the man, Stilgar, approached quickly. 

He didn’t stop, the room filled with the sounds of blades being unsheathed. 

Stilgar stopped and removed his hood before letting out a hum. He had blue within blue eyes and lines across his face from age and the scorching sun. 

“Stilgar,” The Duke said, “Welcome. Sir, I respect the personal dignity of any man that respects mine.” The Fremen leader remained silent. He continued to look around the room before inhaling deeply and spitting on the table. The Warmaster rushed to grab his blade from his side. 

“Hold.” Duncan affirmed as he stepped in front of the Duke, “Thank you, Stilgar, for the gift of your body’s moisture. We accept it in the spirit in which it was given.” 

(Y/N) looked slightly perplexed at this custom. But after careful thought, the practice made sense to her. 

Give water on a planet where there’s none to spare, high honor.

Leto looked over to Duncan and his daughter. He looked in her eyes in a way that replicated her concealed confusion from moments ago. She gave him a slight nod of approval. 

The Duke snorted before also spitting on the table. 

“I’m you’ve come. I believe your people and mine have much to offer one another.” He amended. 

“No, no, you are Outworlders,” Stilgar disagreed, “You come here for spice, you take it, giving nothing in return.” “That’s true,” Paul responded from the other end of the table. 

“I know you’ve suffered at the hands of the Harkonnen,” The Duke sympathized, “Name what you want. If it's in my power to grant, I'll give it and ask for nothing.”

Stilgar hummed again.

“I ask for this: Do not seek our sietches. Do not trespass in our lands. The desert was ours long before you came. So, come and dig your spice, but when you have it, go back to this side of the shield wall and leave the desert to the Fremen.” 

“You will address the Duke as my Lord or Sire.” Gurney growled out. 

“Gurney, just, just a moment,” he quelled, “The Emperor has given me Arrakis as my fief to rule and protect. I cannot promise not to travel into the desert if duty compels me. But your sietches will be yours forever. And you will never be hunted while I govern here.”

The man pondered the statement for a moment. 

“That's very honorable, I must go, that's all I have to say to you.” 

“Won’t you stay?” Paul questioned, “We would honor you.” “Honor requires I be elsewhere.” 

Stilgar walked a few steps before turning back to Paul and whispering something in a different language, Chakobsa. 

“I recognize you”

He then fully stopped in his tracks and his eyes set upon (Y/N). Her breath was short as his heavy stare set over her. She pulled her shoulders back and chest forward to appear confident. 

“And you, witch.”

The blood through (Y/N)’s body ran cold. There was no way for him to know what she was. Hell, half the staff in this place didn’t know. Her heart was in her throat, no amount of Bene Gesserit Litany could calm the hazardous waves in her mind. Her eyes were plastered on the table where the spit oozed over. 

Plans and plans… maybe it was embedded before I could know… 

She tried to reconcile in her mind. 

“I don't like him,” Gurney said when he was out of the room.

“Our plan bears fruit.” The Mentat stated. 

“But it will take time?” The Duke interrogated.

“Yes, it will take time.”

The room slowly began to clear out with people going to respective quarters or meetings. But the Duke and his daughter remained as Thufir and Gurney walked ahead. The Duke placed a hand on her shoulder that pulled her from her thoughts. 

“Stilgar,” her father asked, “what did he say?” “You were there,” she replied swiftly, her voice strained, “you heard what he said.” 

“No, no at the end.” he clarified, “what did he say?” 

She turned to look in her father’s brown eyes. 

“Proverbs,” she muttered, lying. Her hands were folded haphazardly against her stomach, her thumb picking at the skin by her nails. 

“Really? Just proverbs?” “Yes, just proverbs,” She abruptly brushed her father’s hand off her shoulder as she began to exit the room, “I’m sorry but I need to put something away.” 

She made her descent down the runway of the war room. Her mind clouded with spewing thoughts that couldn’t be untangled. In her head, the unclean water she had felt against her ankles was back. Only this time the pollution bred hands that grabbed at her legs and dared to pull her down to them. She walked faster to try and out pace the limbs that were slowly rising to waist level with every step she took. But before she could exit out of the impending doors, the hands stilled. 

“My daughter?” The Duke called out. 

“Yes, father,” she called back, turning around to face him in the doorway. 

“When we go out with the Imperial Ecologist, if I’m able, I’d like you to fly  the ornithopter with me.” (Y/N) smiled.

“I’d like that.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“The Judge of the Change, Sire. Dr. Liet Kynes.” Gurney announced

“My Lord, Duke.” The doctor said while bowing their head, “welcome to Arrakis.”

“Youre the Imperial Ecologist," Paul said, “Thank you for the stillsuits.” 

“Thank you,” (Y/N) added quietly. 

“They are of Fremen make. The best.” Liet Kynes started walking over, “With your permission, Sire, I must check the integrity of your suit.”

Gurney pulled out a small dagger out of the side of his stillsuit and held it to their throat. Other guards followed suit. 

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” The Duke affirmed and the guards put their weapons away. “Dr. Kynes, we're in your hands.” 

The Doctor checked over the soundness of the stillsuits with careful precision. 

“A stillsuit is a high efficiency filtration system. Even this early in the morning, you wouldn’t survive two hours without one of these. It cools the body and recycles the water lost to sweat. Your body’s movements provide the power. Inside the mask, you’ll find a tube to allow you to drink the recycled water.” They explained. 

(Y/N) checked her mask and saw the tube they were talking about. The Ecologist made their way over to her and quickly checked over her suit, making minor adjustments to straps to make sure she had the best fit. 

“Thank you,” She nodded to Dr. Liet Kynes. They nodded back, but something in their eyes said something (Y/N) couldn’t quite place. It felt like how the hands in the war room felt and the whispers that plagued her mind in the hallway

“You placed the pads of your shoulders further to the back.” They mentioned, their voice low.

“Is that wrong?”

“No, just a preference I’ve only seen a few times.”

They then walked over to her brother who had heard the exchange between them. He gave her a look that asked what it was about. (Y/N) just shuddered her shoulders slightly. Paul nodded and looked ahead. 

“In good working order, your suit won’t lose more than a thimbleful of water a day.” 

“Most impressive,” The Duke complimented.

“Let's have a look at you…” Dr. Kynes said as they checked over his shoes. “You’ve worn a stillsuit before?” 

“No, this is my first time.” he said. 

“Your desert boots are fitted slip-fashion at the ankles.” They explained. “Who taught you to do that?”

“It seemed the right way.” Paul uttered. 

Dr. Kynes then mumbled something under their breath. 

“‘They shall know your ways as thought born to them.’”

“Are you Fremen?” Paul asked. 

“I am accepted in both sietch and village” They said vaguely, “Now, come and see the spice sands on which your livelihood depends on.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) and her father were seated in the front of the ornithopter, in the cock pit, when Paul asked a question. 

“What would you do if your ornithopter went down out here?” he asked. 

Her eyebrows pursed together in confusion at that question. 

“You wouldn't want to go down out there. It’s worm territory.” They replied. 

“Dust cloud,” she heard the words of Gurney Halleck from behind her as she strained her neck to see what he was talking about. 

“I see it,” she said. 

“That’s one of your harvesters.” The doctor noted. 

They descended closer to where the harvester was crawling on the ground, gathering spice and storing it in its belly as the leftover fumes were expelled. 

“You can see the spice scattered over the surface. A rich spice bed, by the color. If you get a little higher, you’ll have a better view.” They taught. 

The Duke pulled back on the handles and the aircraft began lifting overhead of the harvester.  

“You see these spotter aircraft looking for wormsign.” “Wormsign?” Paul asked. 

“A sand wave moving towards the crawler,” they translated. “Worms travel deep but get closer to the surface when they attack. If you are patient, we should see one.” 

“A worm always comes?” Gurney questioned. 

“Always. They’re drawn by rhythmic noises.” “Why don't we just shield the crawlers?” 

“A shield’s a death sentence in the desert. It attracts the worms and drives them into a killing frenzy.”

“Is that a worm?” Duke Leto asked.

“Big one,” they affirmed, “you have good eyes.” 

“Calling crawler Delta Ajax niner. Wormsign warning. Acknowledge.” 

From her headset, (Y/N) could hear the questioning voice of the man in the crawler.

“Who calls Delta ajax niner? Over.” They responded.

“They seem pretty calm about it,” (Y/N) muttered. 

“Unlisted flight. Imperium business. Wormsign north and east of you. 3.7 kilometers.” The doctor said while looking through binoculars. 

“Delta Ajax niner, this is Spotter One. Wormsign confirmed. Stand by for contact fix. Worm is on intercept course to your position. Contact in five minutes.” (Y/N) heard. 

“So what happens now?” Gurney asked. 

“They’ll call a carryall to lift the crawler. They'll harvest right up to the last minute.” They remarked. 

The next few moments were a blur. At first, everything seemed okay. The workers on the crawler and the spotters and carryall people were collaborating to make sure the harvester got off the ground. When all of a sudden, the fourth arm of the carryall failed to deploy.  That’s when the air inside of the ornithopter shifted. You couldn’t outrun a worm, not even if you evacuated before it got there. 

“How many men on that crawler?” Duke Leto inquired 

“Crew of 21,” Dr. Kynes answered. 

“Our ships can take 6 each,” The Duke stated. 

“That’s still four short,” (Y/N) cautioned. 

I must not fear. 

“We’ll find a way.”

The Duke pressed forward on the levelers in front of him and sent the ornithopter head first into the sand, the ship went quiet. The wings went against the sides and all that (Y/N) could hear was the rustling wind that whistled past them. As the altimeter’s measurement continued to drop swiftly, so quickly she was almost afraid they would hit the sand, the ornithopter leveled and the wings sprouted from the sides and restarted their buzzing sound. 

“Land there,” her father said to her while gesturing to a flat plane westward to the crawler. 

 “This is Duke Leto Atreides.” He addressed, “We’re coming down to extract the crew of Delta Ajax niner. We’ll set down on the west.” 

It was like her mind and body was betraying her. Something like this, this fear and unease, was never what she felt when she flew on Caladan. Her pulse was jumping rapidly against her, where the neck of her still suit met her veins. Her lungs were 

Fear is the mind-killer.

Carefully, she planted the craft against the sand. Her hands were slightly unsteady against the handles. The commotion rattled her mind. She picked the clamor of Paul from behind her while she just sat in her seat for a moment. She took a deep breath and unbuckled her harness. 

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

She heard her father barking orders to people. She saw Gurney begin to move generators out of the ornithopter and Paul moving down the ramp. (Y/N) paced toward her father. 

I will face my fear. 

“What do I need to do?” she asked. 

“Help Gurney throw out the shield generators,” he beckoned, “when you’re done, help Paul with escorting people in.”

She nodded and started the seemingly long trek to where Gurney was. She exited out of the ramp and went to the side of the ship where he was. She could feel the fine grains of sand and spice hit her. The smell of cinnamon infected her airways and made them feel like they were closing. She held her breath and started to grab the generators and throw them out. The bones of her knuckles were so strained against her skin that they felt like they were going to pop out. 

I will permit it to pass over me and through me. 

She finished removing the last of the generators and looked around to find Paul. She saw him just crouching out in the open. Not moving or shouting, or doing anything that would be considered normal for what was occurring. She felt the breezes of workers as they scrambled to get onto the ship. At once, she heard the booming voice of Gurney calling out for the two of them. She felt the vibrations of the bald man’s shoes against the soft sand over the shuddering sounds of the desert scene. Before he could grab her shoulder, she bolted to where her brother was, her mind clearer than it was the entire duration of their time on Arrakis. 

And when it has gone, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. 

(Y/N) sprinted over to Paul. 

“Paul!” she yelled, “we have to go!” 

But he didn’t react, his mind still in deep thought. She ebbed her way closer to where the boy was hunched over in front of the wheels.

“Paul!” she called louder. Without hesitation she grabbed his shoulders and shook him out of his mind.

“We have to go,” she said through gritted teeth. She grabbed his hand and pulled him up from the ground. But he was like dead weight. 

“Paul! I said, ‘Let's go!’” 

“Okay, okay,” he stammered. 

They briskly moved back to where the ramp of the ornithopter was. The sand became soft and harder to move through as the worm approached. Like they had to run through fresh mud. Suddenly they both slipped and fell to their knees and when their hands hit the grab they began to sink in. 

All she could do was stare at her hands as they went under. She knew the worm was approaching rapidly and there was nothing she could do. She looked up from her hands and in the near distance she could make out the lowering of something. 

The ‘thopter!

With all her might, she stood up, grabbing Paul as well, and made a dash to the ramp. Before they could get on fully, the ornithoper lifted off the ground. She made a move toward one of the bars on the side, her hand still gripping Paul’s to make sure he didn’t fall. They quickly moved far above the site of the crawler. She could see the ripples in the sand from It. 

(Y/N) looked out to where the harvester was being consumed by the sandworm. She could make out the teeth of the creature as she clinged to one of the aircraft’s handles. It clicked in her mind why these beings were considered god. They could swallow buildings and machines with ease. They were other worldly. It was quiet damnation. 

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.  

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) was standing on the grand balcony that looked over Arrakeen and beyond the shield wall. Her hands were placed on the cold sand stone railing that was rough on her skin. She could see the same rock formations she saw as she entered the city. She looked out to the biggest rock she could see on the skyline. 

I wonder if the Fremen can see me right now.

The open expanse of the desert made her feel like eyes were constantly against. What happened today didn’t help either. Her mind was still playing back the memories of what had happened just hours prior. She could pinpoint every grain of sand or spice against her skin. It was surprising, she could tell the difference after a small exposure. It was like her mind was clearer after being out there even though there was a knocking at her head. 

Suddenly, she heard the thundering bellow of the heavy doors from behind her. Out of breath, she turned around to see her brother, his hair wild and eyes almost glazed with sleep. 

“What are you doing awake?” she asked him.

“The sun’s barely gone down.” he replied, his voice groggy. He walked over to where his sister was looking out and took harbor beside her. 

“What are we looking out at?” 

She was a little shocked that her brother was acting so amicable to her even though their last interaction didn’t go over so well. 

“I’m not sure,” she responded in a sigh, “it feels more like something is looking out on us.”  

He hummed in agreement. 

“I’ve been having visions,” he said after a beat of silence. 

“Oh?” she returned slightly bewildered, “what do you see?” 

“I see the desert, I see a blade like the one Stilgar had and someone hands it to me.”

He looked toward his sister. 

“It feels like someone I know gives me the blade.” 

Her chest tightened. 

“I don’t know,” Paul said with his face in his hands. 

“What about you,” he steered away from the topic of him.

“I don't know,” she admitted, “it’s like I was realized. Like certain things made sense.”

“Dr. Yueh said it’s probably the spice,” he said to try and comfort the two. “That it was a psychoactive chemical.” 

“Yeah…” she whispered out. 

“You like it here,” he stated matter of factly, “like something here will make you free.”

It was true, a part of her did like it here. But it wasn’t something she would expect her brother to pick up on. She wanted to stay here because that meant she wouldn’t have to live out the rest of her life away from her family with a random family as a wife. Before she could reply, Paul cut her off. 

“Who knows, maybe dad’ll give this place to you.” Paul smirked, jokingly. 

“That would be nice.” (Y/N) said, her arms against the solid railing of the balcony with her head on top of them.

Her brother placed a warm hand against her shoulder. 

“Your own planet to rule, as I, I don’t know, advise from the wings or something.” 

(Y/N) lifted her head from the railing and looked out to the starless night where only two moons danced. 

“My Arrakis,” she said, looking out to the abyss.

She turned back to her brother, a warm smile that was small against his face. 

“My Lady, are you alright?” he asked. 

(Y/N) voice was shaky and a little jittery. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” she replied as she walked on the ornithopter, sitting next to her brother. 

Thufir Hawat walked into the ornithopter and took place in the front of the ‘thopter, ahead of her. 

“Let's get you out of the sun” he said, the sides of the ‘thopter coming down. 

Lady Jessica took her orange veil off and threw it over her head, onto her shoulders. 

Larva, (synonym: caterpillar): to describe someone who preys on others or an extortioner. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Brother,” (Y/N) said as Paul walked into the sparring room. It was like any other morning on Caladan, the sun streaming in through crystal clear windows. The thing that made this sunrise special was the fact that it was her last day on Caladan. They would leave the next day, in the early hours of the morning, when the moon was still up and only the owl sang. The moon and archaic stars would see her family leave the planet they’ve been for centuries. It was her last sunrise that was accompanied with songbirds’ song and the slow, easy sway of trees. 

“Sister,” Paul said, walking through the room barefoot and eyes half filled with sleep. His feet made a soft padding noise throughout the room. 

It had been a recurring thing for Paul and (Y/N) to spar, so they would be able to keep their abilities sharp, without fear of hurting the other. But it had been months since they had the chance.

“How long have you been up?” Paul asked with a yawn. 

She turned back to face her brother. It was quite comical, even though they were twins, they were completely different. Paul was destined to become something the history books couldn’t comprehend, as their mother would say. (Y/N) was to fall into the background, to make sure she didn’t upstage her brother. He was to be duke. She was to be a wife. He wanted to be a dreamer. She dreamt of leading. He wanted to continue undergoing mentat training. She wanted to do more than pick place mats. 

The only thing they had in common was Bene Gesserit training, and only for her it was allowed to pursue it more than her brother. 

“Not long,” she said, “a little while, maybe an hour, hour and a half.” 

“And you?” she questioned, “it looks as if you just rolled out of bed and put on whatever was available.” 

Paul’s lips quirked slightly at the side. He strolled over to the table at the opposite end of the beige room where the shields and weapons were splayed out. 

“Have you heard anything about Duncan?” she asked her brother, knowing his fondness of the swordsman. 

Even though the question was innocent enough, Paul’s whole demeanor changed. He stiffened and froze in place like he had heard something or been reminded of something awful and terrible pertaining to Duncan Idaho. 

“He's fine,” he bit out quickly. 

(Y/N) was taken aback by this. Even though for the past couple of weeks Paul has been quieter than normal, never in her life had she heard Paul speak this way. A way which was so snapped and tight, so short, so irritated, maybe irritated by her. Paul seemed to have changed since the night she heard his wails. Paul continued what he was doing and snapped on the shield. 

(Y/N) carefully walked over to the ornate table that was covered with different kinds of weapons. She took a spot near Paul and put her own shield on as well. The atmosphere around them was as thick as molasses. 

“Are you alright?” she asked, attempting to make some sort of amendments. She knew that he didn’t feel well. But her brother was not in the mood for trying to have any sort of reconciliation. 

“Can we just spar?” he said coldly, grabbing a knife. He walked back to the center of the room. He tapped the button on his shield and the murmurs began as the shield washed over him in a blue haze.

(Y/N) sighed and tapped her own shield button, the cover enveloping her from head to toe. She grabbed her own weapon and stood opposite from her brother. 

They both took fighting stances and looked at eachother. (Y/N) took in her brother’s face, no longer full of childlike wonder and youth, some of that seemed to fall away into something darker, some not all. After a quick nod from her brother, they began fighting. 

They took turns taking slashes and hits against each other. The sound of clinking metal filled the echoey room. 

“What happened all those nights ago?” she asked her brother breathlessly as she took refuge in the far corner of the expansive mat, trying to catch her breath. 

“What do you mean?” he responded, lunging forward to get her.

Quickly, she jumped and turned around to the opposite side of Paul, now in the corner. 

“With you,” she took a step forward to slash him, “in the library”

Paul’s shield flashed blue as he put his sword against her weapon. The two were eye to eye with one another. 

“Nothing happened,” he bit, in her face. He pushed all his weight against her, to make her unsteady. (Y/N) haphazardly stumbled to the side, Paul falling forward onto the floor, miscalculating the amount of force needed. 

“Even if something did happen, it would be none of your business.” he growled. 

“If something happened with mother than you should say something”

“Why does it always come back to mom for you?” he probed. 

“You make her out to be some sort of villain!” he raised his voice at her, getting off of the floor. 

(Y/N) scoffed at this. 

“You only say that because you’re her favorite.” she retorted back, “having everything handed to you! You’re painfully entitled!” 

Paul let out a groan and tackled her to the floor. Both uselessly struggling and throwing punches against each other. (Y/N) back was against the mat, Paul’s hands were rough around her shoulders, pushing her down further. Her shield flashed that blood red color. She put all her might into kicking him off, but her attempts were futile. Her lips were pressed together and breathed even more labored than before. Something deep inside of her stirred and commanded her actions. 

“I’m entitled! I’m not the one who left for months to go off and study some ancient agenda!” 

“Get off of me!” 

Paul seemed to be pushed by some other worldly force off (Y/N). Quickly he scurried to his feet. (Y/N) propped herself up on her forearms, panting. 

Paul jabbed a finger in her direction and tried to speak some words to existence, but his fury made it impossible for those words penetrate through the air. He knew she used the voice on him. Out of anger, Paul stormed out of the room, leaving his sister to deal with her actions. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The thoughts of earlier this morning plagued (Y/N)’s head. The beauty of the view from the flight deck couldn’t quell her racing mind. The partly cloudy blue sky added insult to injury, her surroundings were so heavenly and luscious while her actions made her feel like some sort of gnarly, ugly witch. 

You did nothing wrong. You were protecting yourself. 

Her body was slumped in on herself as she stood, her arms crossed with her hands on her upper arm, like she was comforting herself. Her neck was beginning to ache from it being virtually folded to her chest. 

You had shields, why did you need to protect yourself like that?

The self doubt consumed her like pools of bone chilling water. The water slowly rising and hitting at her ankles. How it would seep into her shoes and freeze her feet rendering her immobile. The panic would set in, the fear of not being able to move. When the water has already risen to her knees and it would run like a raging river, like her brother's rage. His rage would knock her over and it seemed like she couldn’t move her arms forward. Her head had gone below the water, rotten and polluted. Her screams couldn’t be heard from below the river she drowned herself in. The water seeping into her mouth, a bitter taste was all she could make out. It would fall down her throat and into her lungs, like she was letting the rage and hatred consume her. 

“(Y/N)!” she jumped, being pulled out of her thoughts at the shouting of her father. 

Frightened, she turned around to see her father in his pilot gear with his arms outstretched wide and a smile equally as wide on his face. The fear melted from her body, like poisoned ice to clean water, and she began to walk toward him. 

“Hi,” she said to him, letting herself be taken in by his warm arms. Her father was like a lighthouse in a deep, dark storm. When the masts and sails seemed to creak and flatter and navigation failed, he was a light that constantly showed up. He pulled away from the hug, but his hands were still on her shoulders.

“Are you ready?” he asked her in an excited, but hushed tone. 

“Yes,” she said with a small smile on her face. 

Her father smiled back at her and placed an arm around her shoulder as they walked to where the ornithopter was. 

“Have you finished all of your packing yet?” Duke Leto questioned.

“Most of it,” she responded, her voice still soft, not fully ready to be expressed.

She cleared her throat, eyes cast to the ground, “I have some papers and other little things to pack up, it shouldn’t take me long.”

Her father looked at her, his eyebrow up in surprise. It wasn’t like his daughter to act so aloof and out of it when they went out. 

“Are you feeling alright?” he probed. 

“Yeah, yeah,” she affirmed, her voice just a little bit unsteady, “just tired. I didn't sleep well.”

The two of them got closer and closer to the royal ornithopter. She saw Lanville in the machine making sure that everything was okay and nothing would fail while they were out. (Y/N) slid from under his arm and hurried up the ramp and into the cockpit, almost forgetting to thank Lanville. 

“Thank you,” she rushed out to say as she plopped down into the chair, quickly buckling her seatbelt. Her father entered seconds behind her. The two of them worked to set up and prepare for the flight. The air was filled with the clicks, taps, beeps, and chimes of buttons and switches. The engine came to life below them and the wings began to flutter up and down. 

“Are you ready?

“Yeah” 

Her father grabbed the cyclic stick and slowly but surely they began to lift off the ground, she pressed a button that raised the feet from the ground and into the thopter. The two left from the hangar and began flying out over the azure sea of Caladan, the last time they would be able to. 

“It’s beautiful today,” he said over the roar of the engine and wings. 

“Yes it is.” she responded, continuing to just look out the window. 

Her father looked over to her with a worried look on his face. 

“Have I ever told you about my time on Ix?” he asked, his eyes straight ahead on the sky in front of him. 

“Briefly”

“When I was your age,” he started, “maybe when I was just a little younger than you, my father sent me to Ix for me to proceed with my education. I didn’t want to go but I had to, it wasn’t my choi-”

“Paul and I fought today,” she interrupted her father. 

“I know, I saw him before he met with you.” he said, matter of factly, slightly confused. 

“Paul and I fought today.” (Y/N) urged, she closed her eyes tightly, like if she opened them she would be greeted with her worst fears that manifested from childish nightmares. 

Her father’s eyes soften at her

“Oh, my dear…” he said lowly, in a tone that would be used to console a small child. 

“I don’t think it was even about anything important,” she sniffled. 

“If it's making you feel this way then you should say something.” 

And it was suddenly like the river that surged through her mind earlier was being drained, all the words came out. 

“I called him entitled and that he had everything handed to him.” she paused for a second, “that he was mom’s favorite and that's why he was those things I said before.” 

Her father let out a long sigh

“Is there anything else?” he inquired.

Yes! Tell him about the night in the library! The voice! The anger, disdain, and fury that courses through your body!

She looked over to her father, his eyes were full of worry when they looked at her. Silently, (Y/N) shook her head and looked back to the window. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The lights in (Y/N)’s bedroom were low and no moon rays came through the window. The walls were bare with no pictures and every table seemed to be cleaned of all life. Bookshelves were so clean you could see your reflection off them and pens as well as other small items didn’t exist in her room anymore. 

Thoroughly, she went through all her drawers, bedside, desk, closet, and searched for any things she may have left and forgotten to pack up. But, almost every crevice was empty, there was nothing in them, only the memories. 

She walked to the second closet in her room, a smaller one, used for nothing more than coats and shoes. She opened the dark, wood grain doors and they creaked like screeching cats. Reminiscing, she ran her hand over the wooden bar that the hangers hung off. The bar was smooth like marble with no chips or cracks, it was as perfect as she first remembered. 

She set her hands down on the top of the chest of drawers beneath the clothes line. The surface was cold and had a laminated feeling under her hands. She looked down at the mahogany and a face looked back at her. Her face, tired and aged, there she realized it would be her last time on Caladan. No more rain showers, no more hearing the playing of bagpipes early in the morning, and no more coats. 

Quickly, she changed her mind to something else, checking the drawers. The first drawer she opened was as empty as the castle walls, nothing was left in there, just a little bit of stray lint. She crouched down and opened the middle drawer. In that drawer she found a singular pen, a basic one with silver details. She sighed out and placed it into her pocket. 

She dropped to her knees and opened the final drawer on the very bottom. The space was much like the other ones, a dark mahogany with minimal imperfections in the wood, perfectly glossy and with silver accents outlining the corner of the drawer. The only thing that made this drawer different was a small, intricate, embossed chest no bigger than a book they had in the library, covered in a thin layer of dust. She used her hand to brush the dust off the top of the chest. Dust bloomed into her face and she coughed slightly. The box had a small sparkling silver latch at the front of it. The latch had space for an equally tiny key. She looked around the drawer looking for the key. 

Surely enough, something dazzling in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She looked over and saw it was the key she was looking for. She took the key, no longer than a paperclip, into her hand. 

Delicately, (Y/N) unlocked and opened the box. The hinges didn’t groan at the sudden movement, even though it had been closed for what seemed like years. Inside the box was a stack of documents, letters, and pictures. Nostalgically, she flipped through the papers. One was a letter from a close friend on Wallach IX that had been lost. Another was a birthday card from her 7th birthday. Even a doodle she had drawn from a decade ago was there lying in the pile. At the end of her scouring through the documents, she found a photograph she thought she had lost ages ago. 

Lady Jessica and her daughter began to fall into a strained silence. No words were exchanged, the only sounds in the room were the scraping of knives and forks against plates. (Y/N) grabbed an orange out of the center bowl and began carefully peeling it, careful to not puncture the supple pulp. 

“Did your father tell you the news?” Lady Jessica questioned.

(Y/N) sat up straighter in her chair. 

“No, what news?” she said firmly while placing a piece of orange peel on her plate. 

Lady Jessica cleared her throat. 

“When we go to Arrakis, I’ll,” Lady Jessica hesitated, “we will need you to take a more discreet position.” 

(Y/N) sat frozen in her seat.

“Discreet?” 

“It would be in your best interests if you took a step back.” 

“Why would I need to step back?” she questioned, harshly, “All I ever do is step back. What is different about this now?” 

The Lady grabbed her napkin from her lap and wiped her hands on it. 

“A step back from your educational studies to let new opportunities be pursued.” 

“Meaning?” 

“We have found a place for you in the Landsraad.” she said while looking into her daughter’s eyes. Her eyes were a reflection of past ancestors, eyes cold and unwilling. 

The words drifted into (Y/N)’s ears, they held an undertone and misconception. 

“We may have found a possible suitor.”

Orange juice spritzed against (Y/N)’s face. Her thumbnail was buried in the bleeding orange. The juice as sticky as the situation in front of her. 

She tried to conceal her disdain and hurt as she cleaned her hand. 

“Who is it?” she asked, veiled. 

“The details are not fully sorted.” Her mother informed. 

“The details are not fully sorted and yet you tell me this information.” she remarked, annoyed. 

“I’m giving you a warning.” she said indignantly. 

“Not for who I have to be with, not knowing that is worse than knowing I am going to be sold off like a sheep.” (Y/N)’s cheeks burned with anger.

 “At least give me the courtesy of knowing who will shear or slice me.”

She uprooted herself from the table, shoving her citrus soiled napkin on the table. Her footsteps echoed out of the room like thuds of elephants marching. Her brother walking into the room as she walked out. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her footsteps reverberated off the stone halls, an agitated thump again and again hitting the ground. 

“Sister” her brother's words called out to her. His hair a mess and sprouted over the place. 

“Brother” she said, solemnly trudging through the halls. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air of Caladan hasn’t shifted from winter to spring yet. The bite of leftover frost attacks the people outside and the windows frost in the evening. The spring makes brief appearances daily. When the frost melts against the grass and the dew hugs every surface, the sun shines through the droplets creating dancing whisps. The sun warms the grass, but a feverish chill washes over the sky. When you're warm from the loving rays, the polar squall latches onto your bones, a feeling that mimics that of the body heating and attacking the unknown of what's inside. The curse of the bleak days before equinox, but the warmth gives hope for the days to come. 

Hours later, the winds whistled past (Y/N)’s face as she stood on the platform ahead of the Imperial spacecraft. Wearing her luscious ceremonial clothing, she stood next to Paul, his hair slightly more contained than this morning. His jaw was taut, like something was troubling him.

What could trouble Paul? He has everything he could have wished for, and more he doesn’t realize.

She looked up and saw the orb carrying the fleet of people overseeing the signing over. The automated feet of the ship touched down to the ground with a soft boom, like a mallet gently hitting a timpani, adding suspense. It was like the universe's first no instrument symphony. 

(Y/N) looked past her brother and cast eyes onto her mother. She stood like a picture of her son, jaw taut and shoulders back. 

The spacing guild ship opened and the imposing ramp creeped to the ground. Before it could even touch the asphalt, a plethora of Imperial dignitaries spilled out of the craft, a man with a scroll, representatives of the spacing guild, and what seemed to be a legion of one Bene Gesserit reverend mother. 

The envoy of people, led by a scroll carrying man, proceeded down a grand carpet, lined with Atreides officers. 

She witnessed the rise and fall of her father’s shoulders. Her father with his cap under his arm. Standing meters away, she could see the rippling gold aiguillettes on his uniform, the shining herringbone chain contrasting the dull gray cloth. 

The daughter caught a glimpse of her mother, her eyes cast to the ground at the sight of the reverend mother. Her shoulders were tense and seemed to be strained. 

The wind carried wisps of her fathers conversion with Thufir Hawat and Gurney about the cost of the trip, solaris upon solaris spent by the Imperium, all for a formality, a going away party. It was like the scowl could be heard in Gurney’s voice as well as the warmth in her father’s. It brought her comfort that her father was dealing well with the governing of Arrakis. 

Suddenly, the man with the scroll stepped forward. He bowed to the duke and the duke nodding back to him. 

“By the grace of Shaddam IV of House Corrino, Ascendant to the Golden Lion Throne and Padishah Emperor of the Known Universe, I stand before you as Herald of the Change.” His voice commanded through the air. 

“We are witnessed by members of the imperial court, representatives of the Spacing Guild, and a sister of the Bene Gesserit.”

(Y/N) corrected her posture. She knew all about the Bene Gesserit from filmbooks, lessons from Thufir, and her regular teachings from Bene Gesserit sisters in their ways. The Herald’s words became a fuzz in the back of her mind. A flurry of thoughts, like dancers, ambulated through her mind, occupying the center stage. The dancers with their pointed shoes that seemed to paint more plots into her mind.  What seemed to her to be straightforward transfigured into something too difficult to just show at the surface. 

Why would they need a Bene Gesserit for a planetary exchange? The thought ran through her mind. 

Why would they need a reverend mother that invokes fear in my mother? 

 “The Emperor has spoken, ‘House Atreides shall immediately take control of Arrakis and serve as its steward.’”

The man tightly closed the scroll. The scroll snapped into place.

“Do you accept?”

Her father made his way forward to the front of the platform. He stood there like a mogul overseeing the establishing of a business deal. 

“We are House Atreides. There is no call we do not answer. There is no faith that we betray. The Emperor asks us to bring peace to Arrakis..” Duke Leto’s voice held strength and confidence. 

A drum beat made (Y/N)’s skin prickle. 

“House Atreides” her fathers voice pushed through, taking time.

The tension was palpable in the air. The wind carried no song and even the birds didn’t sing raucous applause. 

“Accepts!”

Thunderous chants of officers ignited throughout.

Her father’s figure smoothed down the stairs like an eel as he walked to the laid out scroll. Words were exchanged between her father and the Herald, (Y/N) too far away to figure out what they were saying. Duke Leto looked back to the platform, where his family stood. Finally, he rolled his signet ring in the wax. 

It was done.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The air over the mountains was clear as summer’s day, even with clouds covering the morning star. The grass underneath (Y/N) was like quicksand, it slowed you and made you laze and gaze at the sites around you. She looked out to the open sea of her home. The glistening water lapped at rocks beyond the shore and padded to the sand banks. Long billed birds swooped down at waves, nipping at fish swimming in their aquatic murmurations. The squawks from the birds mirrored childlike laughter that took place here years before. 

Caladan’s gales blew past (Y/N)’s ear again, but now they carried reprises of soft and playful songs from her childhood. The gentle strumming of a baliset playing through her mind. The sky, though gray, was light with clouds and the grass delicate underneath her feet. 

She ebbed closer to her father on the top of the cliffside in the cemetery. The weight of the place didn’t carry on her shoulders, but instead was filled with his stories about her father’s time as a boy on these cliffs. It made her feel closer to the people she wasn’t able to meet. The memories of her grandfathers’ before were told to her by her father from the way he heard it from his father. 

A smile slowly etched across her face as she hurtled forward. The smile was toothy and childlike, like it came back from when she was a girl to this moment now. Duke Leto raised his hand to his daughter and she responded with her own wave. Everything was natural, everything was in place. She rounded the final curve of the hill and came face to face with her father. 

“Did the wind slow you this time?” Her father teased playfully. 

“Either that or my boots.” she joked along, rolling her eyes. 

(Y/N) took a place by the side of her father, both of them looking out from the cliffside. From the top the landscape reads differently than before. The cliffs didn’t heave over you like tyrants as they did from the bottom. The sea’s icy hands didn’t reach out to pull you to the horizon. The tempests didn’t push against you to move you further from your goals. your arms didn’t need to be in front of you to brace yourself for the fall to the ground below. Your forearms could rest against your ribs and your hands could be safely warm in your pockets. 

“Have you seen your brother lately?”

Her father asked the wind blowing across his face. The wrinkles and lines smoothed against his forehead and the seabreeze seemed to awaken a deeper thing in him, like a phoenix burning reborn from the ashes. 

“Briefly, I saw him at breakfast.” 

“Did you have breakfast with him?” he asked

“No I was leaving, he was coming in.” she quipped, while looking out against the horizon, “if I had to guess where he was now, I’d say bothering Duncan.” 

The Duke let out a chuckle at her words. 

The two fell into a comfortable rhythm as the shore lapped at the sand meters below them. The air was slightly damp as the warmth fell over them before being cooled by the wind. It became known to (Y/N) that the days of a cool climate were drawing few. In a few weeks, she, as well as her family, would be shipped to Arrakis. Where even when the sun was set, it was still boiling. 

“Speaking of Duncan,” her father began,”he’ll be leaving for Arrakis a week before us.”

She gave her father a surprised look. She didn’t doubt her fathers plans, but sending Duncan to Arrakis a week before them surprised her. 

“Why? Why only a week?” 

“Let him survey the area, get a feel for it. If he’s lucky, maybe find the Fremen. As for a week, the emperor did say immediately.”

“Why do you want to find the Fremen? Wouldn’t that make it more likely for them to attack spice harvesters?” She asked, recalling information she had heard during prior meetings that her father invited her to. 

“If we find the Fremen and make them our allies, the planet Arrakis could be so much more than what it is already.” 

“And you believe Duncan can find them?” 

“He is fully capable, you and I know that.” 

“Has Paul asked to come with him yet?”

Her father let out a sigh and put his hand to his pinched brow. 

“No, but I suspect it's sooner than later.” he breathed out 

Leto took a minute and looked over to his daughter. His eyes were soft and gentle. They were filled with love. 

“Everyday I am exceedingly grateful that I have a daughter who doesn’t try to go out of her way to get herself in danger.”

(Y/N) looked down at the soil and smiled softly at the words of her father. 

“I suppose Paul took all of the adventurous spirit.”

“No, no, no, not all,” he tsked, “In your eyes, I see a cunning and daring young woman who isn’t afraid of what's in front of her.” 

He placed a firm hand on her shoulder, a hand that brought more reassurance than his words. 

“That, my dear, is what an adventurous spirit is.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a few days after (Y/N)’s talk with her father. A low, deep rumbling of some sort of craft roused her from her sleep. The noise echoed and sustained for several minutes. The rain poured onto the expansive window that opened down into an inner courtyard. Annoyed, she looked over to her bedside clock, hoping it wasn’t too early and she could go back to restfully sleeping. 

Who, in all that is good, needs to be here this late? 

She restlessly twisted and turned in her bed. But the soft pillows and sheets could not call her to sleep. Her mind couldn’t settle even after the commotion outside stopped. It was like something inside her compelled her to get up, like whispers that spoke in the darkness in the corners of her brain. They urged her over and over again to surge and be alert. After what seemed like hours of trying to settle, she threw her legs over the side of her bed. Her feet hung inches from the floor, she stretched her back, untying the knots in her back that were tied with sleep. She cracked her neck to the side and rested her palms behind her on the plush, white duvet. Looking over to the clock again, she saw that it had only been 10 minutes since she first checked the time. 

Maybe a walk will do me some good.

Carefully, she planted her foot on the little rug by her bed and got up. She activated the glowglobe in her room. The artificial golden rays made shadows appear from wall to wall of her room. She could see out her windows into the courtyard, the dim light of the moon highlighting leaves and the gentle rustle of the wind moving them synchronously. She softly padded over the entrance of her room where her slippers were. She rubbed the leftover sleep from her eyes and went to the closet to get her robe. 

Aimlessly, she roamed the halls of the home she was soon to leave. The night was rainy and cold, like any other. The combination of rain and coldness was something she wasn’t going to miss when she went to Arrakis, but it made her sad knowing that both of those things couldn’t be true there. There wouldn’t be anymore rainbows that arched over valleys and meadows. There would be no more running through the rain when trying to get home. She wouldn’t be able to watch filmbooks with the gentle pitter patter of rain in the background. The rain wouldn’t be the lullaby that brought sleep to her eyes. The smell of rain wouldn’t be lingering outside the flight deck before her and her father went out. The smell of rain left would be permanently left on Caladan. 

As she continued her stroll, the sound of quiet weeping from a different hall piqued her interest. Slowly and carefully, she began to walk towards the sounds of anguish. When she got to the entryway, she peered over and saw her mother standing in front of a door, almost guarding whatever or whoever was behind the door.  

She took a closer look at her mother, crouched over herself crying, face red with tears muttering something to herself. From beyond the door she could hear the pain filled groans of a boy. 

Paul! Paul’s behind that door! 

Her breathing picked up. (Y/N)’s brow pinched together, what was going on? What was happening? The dancing whispers came back to her mind, telling her that her mother was responsible, she is why this was going on.

No, no, that doesn’t make sense. She’s here crying over her son. Her son is in pain behind that door and she isn’t stopping it!

She bolted from behind the wall and rushed back to her room, not because she wasn't worried about her brother, but because she was concerned about what her mother had to do with it. 

The walls of the ballroom encased the sounds of laughter and drunken rejoicing. It was late into the evening, the sun had sunken and met the horizon, while the stars began dancing along the sky, mirroring the Atreides’s guests. They waltzed along to the music of a lively string quartet. (Y/N) stood near a table laid out with dishes of all kinds and next to an imposing, mahogany door that led into a different part of the castle. The greens, blues, and reds of dresses flurried past her like snowflakes. From where she was standing she could see the talking of party-goers as well as Duke Leto conversing with esteemed guests. 

Suddenly another person took a spot by her side, a person who held very highly in her heart. The person leaned in closer to speak into her ear, his hand on her elbow. 

“Are you alright?” Paul asked, playfully, “you look like you’ve been imprisoned at your favorite   holiday.” 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes at his teasing.

“I’m fine,” she replied, breathing out. 

“Have you had enough of old ladies commenting on how you’ve grown into a fine young man?” she retorted. 

Paul gave (Y/N) a glare all his own at her words. Instead of taking offense, (Y/N) only grinned at his expression.  

Before Paul could speak again,

“But, yes Paul,” she looked over to him. “I’m alright.” 

The two fell silent as they had nothing else to say. They let the music of the quartet flow through the room. Resolved, they were standing at the wall of the ballroom, not dancing, not laughing, just standing. 

Paul shuffled into a straighter stand before asking, 

“Do you see Lady Vornis over there?” he nodded to the other side of the room. 

(Y/N) craned her neck to see where Paul was talking about. On the opposite side of the room was Lord and Lady Vornis. The former was standing there straight as a pole while his wife was boisterously talking with the people around them. 

“Yes I do, why?”

“Well,” he started, “she has been unfaithful to her husband.” 

(Y/N) turned herself to Paul, whose hand was now resting on her waist, her eyebrows to the ceiling in surprise. 

“And how do you know this?” she asked, eagerly. 

“Earlier today, I saw her and her husband arguing.” 

“So you have been eavesdropping on others' conversations?”

“No!” he said, flustered, “I was just there at the right time to hear what they said to each other.” 

“What did they say?”

“I didn't hear much at first, but at the end, it sounded like Earl Vornis was reprimanding her for her relationship with one of their stable boys on Vorn.” 

She glanced again to where Lord and Lady Vornis were again. The two of them seemed agitated, on edge. Earl Vornis looked like he didn’t want to be here at all, or maybe he didn’t want to be next to his wife. Lady Vornis seemed to have cleared a decent amount of wine in a span of two hours. 

(Y/N) paused for a minute and bit her lip in thought. She looked back to the boy at her side.  

“Have you seen Baron Nalador lately?” she questioned. 

“No, why?” 

“Apparently he has gambled away the fortune his father left him.” she said, matter of factly. 

“It seems the Vornis and Nalador are not very clandestine with their affairs.” He added. 

(Y/N) hummed in agreement, taking a sip of her drink that was on a nearby table.

Timidly, Paul asked, “Do you think anyone knows about us?” 

“No, why would they?” she affirmed, “it’s not like we’ve done something scandalous in public. We have given them no possible way to know about us. It’s fine, Paul.”

Paul was looking at her with a face that asked if she was sure. She looked over to the kicked puppy looking man and scoffed. She placed her hand on his shoulder, reassuringly. 

“Yes Paul,” she said, firmly, ”people don't know.” 

The fortress walls of House Harkonnen imposed on (Y/N) walking down the hall. It was like the same shadows followed them. The eyes of sculptures and paintings glared at them every waking moment. It seemed like even if you were shroud in darkness, it would watch you too. It made the skin stand on the back of their neck. 

(Y/N)’s footsteps were soft and padded beneath the hard floor. The tall windows around them brought in white ink drop fireworks from the celebrations of Na-Baron Feyd Rautha’s birthday. As they shuffled across the floor, an old painting that glittered in the light caught their eye. 

They stopped to examine the painting, in the furthest corners of the fortress. A woman, a Harkonnen woman, with flowing brunette hair that laid in intricate braids on her head. Her skin was the color of milk. Not because she was pale, but because of the lack of sunshine. The shadows cut harsh lines across her face. Her eyes didn’t gleam that Harkonnen color, though they had the same ambitious glint in her eyes. On a planet without beauty, it was the most beautiful thing there. 

“What are you doing?” The gravelly voice of Feyd Rautha called. 

(Y/N), frightened, jumped back and put their hand over their racing heart. 

  “You cannot impose on someone like that!” they reprimanded, “where do you come from? The shadows?” 

Feyd only chuckled at the assumption. (Y/N) turned back to continue looking at the painting. The Na-Baron crept out of the darkness and took a place by their side. 

“I never liked this painting.” he said matter of factly. 

“Why not?” they asked, “it’s an extremely well done portrait.”

“It's unsettling.” 

(Y/N) let out a scoff. It was ironic that Feyd Rautha, a man who found pleasure in the misery of others, found a painting of a woman from the past unsettling. 

(Y/N) eyes betrayed them.

“What's so humorous about that?” The Na-Baron questioned, harshly. 

“You find a portrait unsettling.” 

“It’s like she branches out to me.” he said, “in my dreams, the shadows reach out from the darkness and pull me inside. She hilthers me closer, like she wants me to do something. 

“Do you know her name?” they asked.