[ He wonders how she might have to prove herself. That path he can't see in his visions. There are too many paths she might pick and none seem to properly converge. They branch out again and again. His eyes close briefly in an attempt to get his mind to still and calm. Other tasks and aspects need to be addressed first. ]
There is love... familial love. But, I don't know her yet. I don't know her likes, her dislikes, her goals, her dreams. Only what she insists I do through dreams. [ His eyes narrow slightly before sighing once more and shaking the thoughts away. ] Another time. You'll understand more once you reunite with my mother.
[ Surely Bastila's Bene Gesserit training taught her of the spice agony. What it takes to become a Reverend Mother. She surely knows of the Gom Jabbar. The mere thought of the test and the box causes a tremor in the hand that rests on her cheek. Only for a mere moment before he suppresses it again.
Did my mother tell her I was to be tested by the Supreme Reverend Mother?
A look of understanding crosses his face at her first response. Her answer is to be expected. Bastila has always wanted security and strength. The station of concubine is beneath her and always has been. Even knowing so, he had needed to make his intentions and his feelings known. Put things to rest so that they could move forward. ]
She has always deserved to be recognized as my father saw her. When the Supreme Reverend Mother came to Caladan? She treated her as if she was a mere servant in her own home. [ The whole situation has never sat right with him. ] She has become a respected member of the tribe. Maybe even feared, depending on who you ask.
[ His eyes glance upwards at the passing Freman. They will need to cut their conversation short soon in order to not draw further attention. He was going to say just as much until he hears what he hadn't expected. Blue-in-blue eyes immediately raise to hers once more. They lock. He listens intently to every word she says. He feels how his body reacts once more to her.
"You may court me."
Paul stares.
ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
His attention drifts as an image fills his mind, his eyes, his senses. The strong smell of spice incense carrying through the room. Thin curtains drifting at the bed. The mural of fish behind him in the room that was once his in Arrakeen. A woman standing at the long slit of window, and beyond her, the still night sky of Arrakis. The bustling city of Arrakeen just beyond hearing.
Paul stares at the woman in front of him with long chestnut hair.
She turns to him with a smile and hands folded over her stomach. Blue-in-blue eyes that were once like the deep soil of Caladan shine back at him.
⸻Basi.
ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
A sense of dread fills him as he knows what Bastila tries to show him. The people in the streets chanting his Fremen name. The prayers. The praise. The worship. Calling for their Mahdi to lead them to Paradise. Amongst it all she's there with...
ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ. ᴅʀɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ.
His mind immediately refocuses on what he knows he can feel and touch. The tent around him. The stillsuit he wears. His thumb on Bastila's cheek. The low light of the tent lamp. The sounds of the Fremen cheering and dining of another successful night. Bastila. A sharp inhale followed by another until he calms himself to look back at the woman in front of him. The woman who seems to have so many paths open to her when none seem open to him.
He moves in one fluid motion.
Hand raises to pluck the tent light from its hanging position and extinguish it. The tent is shrouded in darkness. That way the ones beyond the tent can't see.
Then, his hand rests once more against her face. ]
I thought you were dead. [ Voice barely above a whisper once more and nearly repeating himself. This time, however, he says it as Paul Atreides and not her duke. Hands curl against her. ] Only bones left like my father, our advisors, our men...
[ They will worship at the shrine of my father's skull... the ritual and mythos of Maud'dib spreading through the Known Universe⸻
⸻ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
She COULD be there with... a child...
The image comes to mind again of her dressed in Harkonnen battle armor. Fighting him. Plunging the blade into his chest.
Or, she could kill me. What does she truly want?
DRINK AND YOU WILL SEE.
Paul ignores the clawing visions attempting to take him from the present. ]
What is it you want, Basi? [ The voice barely above a whisper suddenly sounds haunted. ] You can choose. You have to choose.
no subject
There is love... familial love. But, I don't know her yet. I don't know her likes, her dislikes, her goals, her dreams. Only what she insists I do through dreams. [ His eyes narrow slightly before sighing once more and shaking the thoughts away. ] Another time. You'll understand more once you reunite with my mother.
[ Surely Bastila's Bene Gesserit training taught her of the spice agony. What it takes to become a Reverend Mother. She surely knows of the Gom Jabbar. The mere thought of the test and the box causes a tremor in the hand that rests on her cheek. Only for a mere moment before he suppresses it again.
Did my mother tell her I was to be tested by the Supreme Reverend Mother?
A look of understanding crosses his face at her first response. Her answer is to be expected. Bastila has always wanted security and strength. The station of concubine is beneath her and always has been. Even knowing so, he had needed to make his intentions and his feelings known. Put things to rest so that they could move forward. ]
She has always deserved to be recognized as my father saw her. When the Supreme Reverend Mother came to Caladan? She treated her as if she was a mere servant in her own home. [ The whole situation has never sat right with him. ] She has become a respected member of the tribe. Maybe even feared, depending on who you ask.
[ His eyes glance upwards at the passing Freman. They will need to cut their conversation short soon in order to not draw further attention. He was going to say just as much until he hears what he hadn't expected. Blue-in-blue eyes immediately raise to hers once more. They lock. He listens intently to every word she says. He feels how his body reacts once more to her.
"You may court me."
Paul stares.
ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
His attention drifts as an image fills his mind, his eyes, his senses. The strong smell of spice incense carrying through the room. Thin curtains drifting at the bed. The mural of fish behind him in the room that was once his in Arrakeen. A woman standing at the long slit of window, and beyond her, the still night sky of Arrakis. The bustling city of Arrakeen just beyond hearing.
Paul stares at the woman in front of him with long chestnut hair.
She turns to him with a smile and hands folded over her stomach. Blue-in-blue eyes that were once like the deep soil of Caladan shine back at him.
⸻Basi.
ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
A sense of dread fills him as he knows what Bastila tries to show him. The people in the streets chanting his Fremen name. The prayers. The praise. The worship. Calling for their Mahdi to lead them to Paradise. Amongst it all she's there with...
ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴇᴇ. ᴅʀɪɴᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜱᴇᴇ.
His mind immediately refocuses on what he knows he can feel and touch. The tent around him. The stillsuit he wears. His thumb on Bastila's cheek. The low light of the tent lamp. The sounds of the Fremen cheering and dining of another successful night. Bastila. A sharp inhale followed by another until he calms himself to look back at the woman in front of him. The woman who seems to have so many paths open to her when none seem open to him.
He moves in one fluid motion.
Hand raises to pluck the tent light from its hanging position and extinguish it. The tent is shrouded in darkness. That way the ones beyond the tent can't see.
Then, his hand rests once more against her face. ]
I thought you were dead. [ Voice barely above a whisper once more and nearly repeating himself. This time, however, he says it as Paul Atreides and not her duke. Hands curl against her. ] Only bones left like my father, our advisors, our men...
[ They will worship at the shrine of my father's skull... the ritual and mythos of Maud'dib spreading through the Known Universe⸻
⸻ᴘᴀᴜʟ.
She COULD be there with... a child...
The image comes to mind again of her dressed in Harkonnen battle armor. Fighting him. Plunging the blade into his chest.
Or, she could kill me. What does she truly want?
DRINK AND YOU WILL SEE.
Paul ignores the clawing visions attempting to take him from the present. ]
What is it you want, Basi? [ The voice barely above a whisper suddenly sounds haunted. ] You can choose. You have to choose.