name this stuff later after stream.

[spicetrance]

[ ⸻ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ.

Eyes that are blue in their entirety--even the whites covered in color--stare at him. Young. Brunette. Sharp features. The eyes, he realizes then, are ancient. The fact they seem to glow seems to hardly matter at the realization of age in front of him. Time. Something inhuman and yet deeply human at the same time.

Paradox.

⸻ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ᴅᴏɴᴇ, ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ.

What is done?

The concept of this young-yet-old man calling him "father" doesn't strike him as old. Something deep inside him (in his bones) tells him that it is true. He is the father of the one before him.

Fingers curl in the grains below him. Sand. They sit facing one another. Crouched in the shifting ground. Sand that borders the small old set of stone inside the sprawling and looming cave. Shadows they cast wax and wane at a steady beating pace. Shadows pass over their faces but neither age visibly. Instead he can feel it passing over him. Time. Passing over both of them. That feeling inside tells him it is true as well.

⸻ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ꜱᴇᴛ ɪɴ ᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴ. ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ɪᴛ.

A breath catches in his throat. A weight he realizes that has been crushing him begins to slide from his shoulders. Awe and wonder fill him. Respect. Amazement. Fear. Sadness. He feels the sorrow show on his face. His son merely smiles and shakes his head at the display of emotion. His son reaches out, young-yet-old hands encircle his own.

A burden of purpose you inherited from me.

The sensation of flaking is suddenly felt. As if shedding skin. He looks up once more into those ancient blue-in-blue eyes. The expression is obvious to his mind in a flash.

Dying.

His son is dying.

Layer by layer. Piece by piece. Moment by moment.

Sands shift underneath them once more. Shadows pass. His son's face shows in the light once more--tired. No, exhaustion. Loneliness. Relief. Sadness. Joy. Contentment. Longing for moments never lived that others could. His hands curl around his son's in that moment. ]

Son... [ His own voice sounds old to him as well. No, this IS my voice.


The young-yet-old man merely smiles once more.

⸻ᴀ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɪꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ. ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ɪꜱ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴꜱ. ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴏʟᴅᴇɴ ᴘᴀᴛʜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ᴛᴡɪᴄᴇ ɪꜰ ᴍʏ ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ? ʜᴜᴍᴀɴɪᴛʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴛᴏɢᴇᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴄᴏɴɢʀᴇɢᴀᴛᴇ. ʙᴜɪʟᴅ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘᴜꜱʜ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ. ᴏᴜʀ ɢᴇɴᴇᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴ, ᴀꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴀ ʀᴏᴀᴅᴍᴀᴘ ᴛᴏ ʟᴇᴀᴅᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴꜱᴘɪʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ. ɪ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴇɴꜱᴜʀᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴏᴜʀ ʙʟᴏᴏᴅʟɪɴᴇ ʟɪᴠᴇꜱ ᴏɴ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ɢᴇɴᴇᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ʙʀɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀᴡᴀʀᴅ ᴘʀᴇꜱɪᴇɴᴄᴇ. ꜱᴘɪᴄᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴇɴꜱᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ɢᴇɴᴇᴛɪᴄ ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ. ʏᴏᴜʀ ɢᴇɴᴇᴛɪᴄꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʀᴇᴘᴇᴀᴛ ʙᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ. ᴀɴᴅ, ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ, ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰɪɴᴅ ꜱᴏʟᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴋɴᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴇᴇɪɴɢ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱᴇꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ʜᴀᴘᴘɪɴᴇꜱꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴏʏ ᴡᴇ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴅᴇɴɪᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴠᴏᴋᴇᴅ.

His mind reels at the information and implications.

⸻ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ, ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ, ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴡᴇ ᴍɪɢʜᴛ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀʟʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ʟɪꜰᴇ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴅᴇɴɪᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴏᴜʀ ɢᴇɴᴇᴛɪᴄ ᴄᴏᴅᴇ ᴡᴏᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴄᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪᴇꜱ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ꜱᴇᴇ.

ᴍʏ ɢɪꜰᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ, ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ.

Another shadow passes over them.

The light returns.

The young-yet-old has disappeared as sand in the wind. All that remains in his place are worms crawling into the sand. Stillness fills the cave. Unbelievable and unbearable sorrow. Cheers fills his mind and senses. Elation. The God is dead!, they cry out. Jubilation. Wonder. Possibilities. Exploration. The coming together. The parting. The whispers of threads beyond the known. All of these pass through him and all that fills him is the sense of loss. The price paid for it all. A price he refused to pay and another paid instead.

Eyes open to stare at the hole above in the cave.

Then, a light. Brighter than the sun comes towards him. Eyes widen in sudden fear. There is no where to run, nowhere to hide. The heavens fall, the sky burns, then light engulfs him. Horror.

The worms are dead.

He gasps, jerks in bed, then stills at the ceiling above him.

Familiar and not familiar.

He stares at the ceiling as it a settles. The storm rages beyond the room. Wind and rain hitting the window. Rain. Water so scarce it was a currency within its own. Deserts. Dunes. His eyes close as memories of one particular person fill him. Brunette hair that tumbled down like water, an assured presence and knowing. Pride on her own talents and capabilities. She stayed by him when none would. His love, the one he cherished more than any other. One of two moons in the desert night sky.

His eyes close.

Our son is dead... and our daughter long before him. They've gone to the stars with you.

Reflection takes hold. Settling of memories. There is no adjustment to lives or reconciliation. He is Paul Maud'dib Atreides, once Paddash Emperor of the Known Universe. His name may be different now, but, it feels as if he has been asleep the entirety of this life. That he has awoken from a deep slumber and everything of this life had been a dream. A long continous dream. Now, he is awake, in a younger body. One that reminds him of when he first went to Arrakis. Yet, the memories are still his own as well.

Paolo Atreides pushes himself to sit up into his bed. He simply sits there with the low amber lights awakening to detect his presence. Moments pass that he has not tracked even with his Mentat capabilities reawakened. The feeling of pointlessness dares to cripple him. He cannot fall to the feeling once more and squander the chance his son had given him. There had been enough disappoints from the man once called Maud'dib. ]

Comments

[battlemeditation]

[ Everything is a blur: a blur of sound, light, color, noise. It is enough to make Fortis want to cover her ears and close her eyes to block all of it out. Except... she finds herself unable to move. Perhaps the dream won't allow her to move. Perhaps something else is stopping her from moving. Perhaps it is simply the state of sleep that leaves her frozen in her bed.

... Is she in her bed? Recollection seems to be eluding her as the dream surrounds her.

But is this a dream, or is it a nightmare? She finds that when she tries to focus on one part of the dream, to identify what she is looking at, a wall of sand blows in front of her, obscuring her vision.

What is happening?

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a flash of red seems to fly out of... somewhere, and in the dream, Fortis feels herself scream. Does she scream in the real world too? She isn't sure. She isn't even sure what is happening, but she is struck by a deep and great sense of loss. There is a feeling of saying a reluctant farewell and the feeling of being forced apart... forced away from someone before she was ready.

Who is it? Who are you?

REMEMBER...

A voice booms and echoes around Fortis and again she wants to clap her hands over her ears. The voice is both recognizable and unrecognizable and seems to be two voices speaking as one. She knows the voices, knows their tones, but she can't bring their names to mind.

Remember what?

She demands an answer from the mysterious voices, but no answer comes. The dream seems to be disappearing, but the echo of the voices telling her to remember keeps sounding, echoing and swirling around her even as she feels herself beginning to stir, sleep falling away. ]

-wake up, it is time to meet-

[ Fortis stirs more on the bed as another voice breaks through her still-sleeping mind. As she begins to rouse, she begins to remember what day today is, and what event awaits her.

Today is the day that she meets her intended, and they become married. Her eyes slowly open, but she does not rise from the bed yet; instead, she stares up at the ceiling above her, trying to recall what she can from her dream.

She is supposed to remember something or someone, and although she can't quite figure out who, there is a greater, deeper feeling that tells her she already knows this someone. Whoever they are, they are important to her, and she is important to them. It is of great importance that they meet. She is not sure how she knows that, but some lingering feeling from the dream tells her that is how it is.

With that thought in mind, she sits up on the bed, and after a moment, she moves to stand so that she might see to getting dressed and tending to her hair and to whatever else is needed so that she might be presentable for the meeting still ahead of her.

The next hour passes quickly, as she is dressed and fed and her hair styled and some small pieces of jewelry placed strategically so as to catch the eye but not to distract. That will come later, or so she is told. She has to stop herself from making a face of dislike, because she really does not like being weighed down by fancy clothes and jewels, but some occasions call for it. This is one of those situations, and her protests will do no good at all.

Finally, the hour is upon her, as she is told, and she is escorted down a series of hallways by her parents until they reach a room. The person she is to meet is in this room, but it is not as simple as opening the door and walking inside. She must be introduced... presented.

Part of her rebels against that. She is not some piece of meat to be presented for dinner, but propriety is propriety.

As she is announced, she thinks back to the dream and to the jumbled up mess of images and sensations that it brought. What does it mean?

Suddenly, she feels a sharp elbow jabbing her in the side, and she comes back to the present with a jolt. Instinctively, she sinks into something that is a cross between a bow and a curtsy, a practiced movement that only became so because of many repetitions until she (reluctantly) perfected it.

Once she is in position, she remains there as she has been told, waiting for the words that say her gesture has been received and accepted, and she may resume standing normally once more. ]

[spicetrance]

[ A knock at the door. His eyes raise as the headphones keeper steps in through the now opened door. An average height for a woman with light brown hair with undercurrent of red so light one may mistake it for a hue of pink. She smiles gently at him. He remembers then that she has felt something of a replacement mother as his passed while he was an infant. A deep sigh and close of the eyes at memories of this dreamlike life. ]

Good morning, m'lord. [ She moves to the window to open the covers. Rain still pelts the glass, but, the sun has risen. ] Your breakfast will be brought shortly. Your father has requested you to present in full dress today.

[ Paolo frowns at the deep sense of deja vu. Yet, he can't bring to mind why he would need the attire of formalities. ] Why?

[ The head housekeeper turns and folds her hands in front of her. He had always thought that she had feline grace. Certain moments, such as now, stick out to him in that manner. ] The formal meeting of House Shan is today! Don't tell me you forgot, m'lord. This will seal their house to yours and broker the more stable economy our planet needs.

[ An amused smile at her tone as more memories from this dream-life come settle against those he would consider his true memories. His voice is dry, hoarse, young, and yet his own from his life eons ago. ] You sound like your husband.

[ A pause and fluster takes her. Hands folded together roll fingers between one another before shaking her head. Her cheeks slightly red as she heads back to the main door. ] He IS your father's commander of arms. Are you surprised? You need to get ready soon, Paolo. First impressions are what matters in these sort of affairs.

I remember hearing your own first meetings were humble. [ A tired smile touches his face. The family dynamic has not repeated exactly. ] We're your concerns always on appearances?

[ The headhouse keeper turns on the falls on her feet. For a brief moment her formalities were broken. ] Paolo!

I'm sorry, Lanta. [ Paolo eases an apology out. ] It was a rough night. I'll be out shortlh.

[ Housekeeper Lanta pauses at the way the young man moves. The way his voice seems softer, more reserved, stoic. How he moves as if suddenly aged. Heterochromatic eyes take note that the young man seems to have become a man overnight. Something awakened in him. She frowns and bites the inside of her lip. Then, a respectful bow, and she silently leaves the room. Fingers twirls together as she makes her way down the long stone hall. The day will not be simple it seems.

Paolo dresses in full dress as requested. He notes the changes and yet similarities that stick out to him of the house that bears an ancient name. A red flare has been added to the ancient hawk. He fixes his collar and makes his way to the main hall. The main chair of the house sits with the family banner. His eyes taken the flares that surely carried over from a planet that was made of mostly water. A deep longing hits him then. ]

"I see you're awake and ready."

[ Paolo turns slowly, hands behind his back and folded together, eyes immediately on the man who is his father in this life. The man who has inherited the title of Duke of House Atreides. The man who is in the spitting image of the Old Duke pauses at the sight of his son. Silence falls between the two.

Then, his father let's out an deep sigh. ]

"I suppose this was an inevitable outcome. They warned me--the Bene Gesserits--that it was possible. Given the ancestry, name... We'll discuss this later."

[ Paolo nods. ] There's a lot I'd like to discuss, Father.

"So, you'd still call me that, given the circumstances?"

Why wouldn't I? [ A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. ] You're still my father in this life... and the Duke of our House.

[ The Duke levels and even stare before climbing the steps to sit in the chair. Paolo takes his stance beside him, hands still folded behind his back. He briefly allows himself to think about the underlying meanings. The Bene Gesserit still plot. They are aware of him--or that his memories could reawaken. He would presume then that if his new father looked like the Old Duke, that his new mother looked as the Lady Jessica did. The need to recomb over the last seventeen years of his life surfaces.

Patterns, his son had said.

His gaze refocuses the moment the doors open. The Duke of House Shan introduces himself. Duke Atreides welcomes him as an old friend. Paolo takes the entire exchange in down to the minute detail. Training of his memories kick in. Mentat. Calculating and storing small details. Bene Gesserit. Deciphering body language and words behind words. Hands flex. Everything is of good faith and friendly... with both sides having something to gain.

The Duke Shan raises his hand and introduces his daughter. Paolo moves his gaze to her. Then, he freezes. Everything in him stills. She looks like the exact image of the woman he loved--loves. His eyes immediately scan the room. No Spacing Guild. No ghola cage.

Patterns.

Duke Atreides glances at his son, then the daughter. A hand raises to gesture to the young man beside him. ]

"My son, Paolo. Heir to the house."

[battlemeditation]

[ To Fortis and her family, this arrangement is for their benefit and the benefit of their house, although theirs is considerably lesser in stature than most, and certainly not nearly as significant as House Atreides. Still, the two houses stand to gain from this union, even if, as far as Fortis knows, House Atreides is still more favored in social circles.

She has resolved that her duty in all this is to play the role of dutiful daughter, doing what must be done in the interest of helping her family. And, well, she would be lying if she said that the idea of marrying someone has always excited her. Perhaps this union is not going in ways she would have chosen for herself, but there is still no pretending she does not feel the slightest bit of girlish nerves when she thinks about meeting the man she is to marry.

And, taking into account the dream or vision that she has had, there is curiosity present as well. Perhaps this union will become more than one that started as an arrangement and turn into something more.

She remains in her curtsy for a few seconds more, before she slowly rises once she sees Duke Atreides glance her way before gesturing to his son. ]

It is a great honor to meet you and your family, my Lord. [ Proper greetings must be exchanged, and so Fortis sees to that before she allows herself to glance at Paolo. She is careful to not stare as that would be impolite, but she finds herself unable to look away once her gaze lands on him, as if some force is drawing her gaze and keeping it there.

If she is not careful, she worries that she will find herself accused of being ill-mannered for staring too long. ]

It is an honor to meet you as well. [ She adds by way of properly addressing the Duke's son. ]

[spicetrance]

[ It has taken years for the Atreides name to be cleared of the ruin that was brought by the Old Empire. Emperor Paul Atreides was not a kind ruler--neither had been his son, then Tyrant God Emperor Leto II. History of this new life teaches him such things, but he knows it would have to be such a way if humanity stands where it does at this moment.

No doubt the father of him in this life suddenly now worries what the awakened Paul Atreides may do once more.

Paolo bows his head deeply at her statement. Then, he pauses once more to regard her. Her name is on the tip of his tongue and he feels his body react in ways it never has in this new life. Heart racing. Attraction. His hands curl behind his back to focus his body back into a calm nature. Training from his old mother.

She doesn't know me.

Somehow it feels as if he has lost her once more despite never having her returned. ]

"You'll forgive my son, Lady Fortis. He is the withdrawn sort."

[ Paolos blinks. He supposes that he had been. A more quaint way of saying that he had been sleep walking his entire life. Still, he plays the part. A look downwards and a mumble of apology. Best for them to believe he is withdrawn as he certainly feels.

I am a man out of time. Place. Why did my son awaken my memories?

The Duke smiles regardless. ] "What did your parents require I send back with your entourage?"

[battlemeditation]

[ Despite Fortis's best efforts to keep her posture and her expression composed, the swirling memories in her mind are making it difficult to do so. She remembers fragments and pieces of events that happened in the past, and she is doing her best to reconcile them with the present events unfolding in front of her now. She remembers the turns that Paul Atreides had to take on his path, and the turns that she took as she followed him on that path.

Not every moment that they had together was a happy one, but she remembers thinking that the point of all this was simply being together. And they were together, until circumstances roughly forced them apart.

If this moment were different, she would step closer to Paolo, take his hands in hers, and pull him in for a hug, and perhaps for something more than a hug. Still, they are being observed, and proprieties must also be observed. To give into the attraction that she feels would be not proper at this present moment.

Still, she fixes her gaze on Paolo for the barest of moments, and she allows a look of unbridled emotion to slide into her gaze. Will he notice? She hopes so. The look is meant for him and no one else. ]

He is quite forgiven, my Lord. There is no offense taken. [ Taking chances and risking a lecture later, she once again looks at Paolo and smiles the smallest but warmest smile she can manage. ]

What did they require? [ She looks to the side, hesitating as if doing so will buy her time to pull out a letter that she was instructed to give to the Duke when she was presented to him. She hands the letter over to him and offers another small curtsy. ]

[spicetrance]

[ A glance upward is spared for a brief moment.

Withdrawn, quiet, but very aware and intelligent. Things he remembers others describing Paolo Atreides. The Mentant conditioning had already resurfaced from memories at a young age. His ability to control his body and his emotions as well. Things that had been latent and awakened fully with the agony in his last life. Dreams as well. Visions. Limited, as they had been when he was this age once more on Caladan.

Dan, they had called it in recent memory.

Spice...

Fingers curl and uncurl in thought. They only pause as Lady Fortis hands the Duke a letter. A glance is sent up at her again before forcing his eyes downwards once more. There's much to consider with how this federation works now.

The Duke opens the letter and looks over it. A confirmational sound is made. A rub of his chin in thought. Then, the letter folds between his hands. ]

"The Sha family had made their fortunes on finding treasures and rare minerals off the coast. The proposal isn't surprising, especially from an old friend. I'll have discussions when the rest of your family comes for the ceremony." [ The Duke looks to his son. ] "You'll be required to attend."

Of course. [ Paolos says softly. Best to continue to play the part that I was once upon a time. ] Why only me, though?

"It will be up to Lady Fortis's father if she attends."

[ Fortis. Not Bastila. He notes the name to himself. Some part of him feels that loss deeper.

Paolos simply nods in understanding.

The Duke looks back to Fortis. ] "Your father made mention you are trained in some of the Bene Gesserit ways. Your mother? What did they train you in?"

[ Paolos stills entirely. Hands curl tightly behind his back. Bene Gesserits. The name causes the old flame of anger to burn inside him.

So, a cat and mouse game with them again. ]

[battlemeditation]

[ For just a moment, Fortis's mind wanders. It is something she was often chastised for, being told that proper ladies did not drift off, especially not in the middle of a conversation. And even if no conversation was being held, it was hardly proper for a lady to become so lost in her thoughts that she became oblivious to the world around her. And yet, despite the best efforts of her mother (was it her mother, or someone else?) to remind her to remain in the moment, the habit never fully left her. It still remains with her even now, and this time, as her thoughts wander, they bring with them the image of a younger man: younger but appearing older because responsibilities and expectations have made it so.

What was his name? Not Paolo... Paul. Paul Atreides. And I loved him. I love him.

The thought comes to mind almost on its own, but Fortis does not push it away as something unwanted. She wants it. She wants Paul- Paolo.

For now, however, she waits while the Duke reads the letter, and then informs his son of what will happen with the ceremony. A part of her wishes to put her hands on her hips and state that she will be attending the ceremony because she wants to be there; but the part of her that has been taught will not allow her to break protocol so brazenly. Still, if she has a moment to speak with her parents, she knows exactly what she will tell them.

After a brief pause, she manages to find a conciliatory tone when she says: ] I am sure that I will be expected to attend, but I shall find out more once they arrive and we have had a chance to talk.

As for the training I have received... [ She has the list fairly well memorized by this point. ] Control of one's thoughts, emotions, and words. To observe one's environment and the actions of people and things within that environment. In a word, discipline.

[ And it goes beyond mere discipline too, but to properly explain all of it would take hours, and she is certain that the Duke does not wish to hear all of it. ]

I can provide more detail if you wish to hear it, my Lord.

[ Although truthfully, recounting her training to anyone is the last thing she wishes to do. ]

[spicetrance]

[ The filmbooks remain on the table behind him as well as documents spread out. Registries, personnel information, handwritten notes to himself of House names of the ones that inhabit the planet he now finds himself. This world is not Caladan--Dan--it is another world.

Okeanos.

A water planet that could be mistaken for the ancient Atreides homeworld. The decision had been deliberate, and he does not need the internal family documents to tell him otherwise. The Scattering. People fled to the stars after the Tyrant's death, including this pocket of Atreides. Direct descendents of the twin sister, Queen Ghanima, and thus Atreides to the claim of the Old Imperial Throne if the system hadn't been destroyed by the Tyrant. Instead, they had come to this planet on hopes of rebuilding the family in the image of what ithad been under the Old Duke Leto.

So far? They had been successful.

An Imperium does not exist now, instead a federation of individual planets. Okeanos being one of those planets. The House rules the planet and thus works with the other noble families that had established a new home in the Scattering. Of course, this federation retains the schools of the Old Atreides Empire. The housekeeper is a Suk doctor after all. His new mother had been a Bene Gesserit, just as his old mother the Lady Jessica had been. She passed when he had been a toddler, and rumors and whispers had spread through the court as to who had been the culprit.

The Lord Commander and the Master of Arms had always suspected the Bene Gesserits themselves, but blue could not simply be put at the feet of the old order. Not without repercussions.

He presses his palms to the stone railing and looks out at the gardens below as he churns the pieces together in his awakened mind. The Lord Commander, Master of Arms, and his new father had been friends since childhood. The Commander--Aymeric Bor'el--and his father were of established noble birth. The Master of Arms--Estinien--rose in combat prowess when raids had been conducted on the planet and he had secured his place in court. The Commander's Suk trained wife also made for a formidable force. Her sister was married to the planetologist and the two were always traveling.

Minute the presence of a Bene Gesserit mother and a faithful Mentat? The court seemed similar to that of the old Duke Leto. The people who had raised and trained him. People he finds himself missing. Especially Duncan Idaho.

He sighs.

A knock on the door behind him. Paolos sighs. His dress jacket has been discarded on the chair next to the table. Shirt untucked. He looks over his shoulder. Lanta stands at the doorway with an apologetic look on her face. ]

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Paolos. Lady Fortis wished to see you."

[ His gaze moves to the gardens below. ] She would want to know her future husband. It's fine, Lanta. Show her in.

[ The housekeeper opens the door further and motions for Fortis for step forward. ]

[battlemeditation]

[ Fortis had wrestled with herself about what to do for many long minutes; it may very well have even been an hour. She argued with herself just as many times as she convinced herself that the thing to do here was to request to have a meeting with Paolos: alone, just the two of them. Well, perhaps attendants standing by unseen, but certainly no parents who might intervene either with words or simply with their presence.

Still, she wondered if intruding upon his privacy was something he did not want. They were to be married, of course, but what if he did not wish to become better acquainted? What if his intention was to only take a concubine and not a wife?

Of course she knew that such a thing was possible; in a world where moves and countermoves still very much had their purpose, Fortis knew that romantic dreams had little place there. Still, she had dreams of being swept off her feet by someone- by the right someone, but there was nothing saying that that someone was Paolos.

Even so, she found herself growing restless in the quarters that had been assigned to her, and she found her steps wandering until... she found herself outside Paolos' room. This was not something she had done on purpose, as she had no intention of inserting herself into his quarters like some brazen woman with no manners. But before she could make her escape, she very nearly walked right into the housekeeper Lanta.

To Fortis's embarrassment, Lanta deduced what was going on with just a look at Fortis and another look at the door, and without hesitation, she knocked. Fortis felt as though she could sink right into the ground and disappear, if only it would open up and take her down with it. But no such thing happened, and she found herself forced to stand there while the housekeeper and Paolos exchange a few words.

She contemplates trying to make her escape, but before she can, Lanta holds the door open and motions for her to enter. Well, there's nothing else she can do now but enter and hope for the best.

She enters the room and drops into a low curtsy of respect. ]

I apologize for the intrusion, I- I was only passing by, I did not mean to interrupt.