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crescenthistory · 7 months ago

Text

in the silence, there is an us

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Throughout their lives, Paul and reader have often found themselves in each other's bed. Childish games after bedtime, late-night studying sessions, nightmares, and a burning need to not be apart.

Part of Paul's point of view can be read here: "you are my favourite silence"

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: not proofread, possibly some inaccuracies about plot details (have not watched dune in ages, i'm just obsessed with paul), best friends to lover, tension, light angst, jessica being a bit rude, reader being an orphan and of a lower social rank, duke leto's death (rip), lots of cuddles and lingering touches, fluff, the whole deal

***

The grand halls of Castle Caladan always had an eerie stillness after sunset. The select servants walked quietly, the sound of waves crashing below barely made its way through the stone walls, and the Duke and Lady Jessica kept to their quarters. For Paul and you, though, this was the perfect time to sneak past the sternness of bedtime. The day never seems long enough for young children whose eyes are still filled with stars.

“Come on!” Paul’s whisper was loud, almost too loud for sneaking around, but you didn’t think long enough to care. The thrill of the game was enough to make both of your hearts race. You were barefoot, your steps making soft thuds against the cool floor as you tiptoed through the hall toward his room.

“If we get caught—” you whispered, but Paul cut you off with a grin.

“We won’t. Besides, who can stop us?”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky confidence. He wasn’t wrong, though. You had never been good at staying still, at obeying the invisible rules set up by adults. With no living relatives to share your name, Paul was more than just a best friend – he was all you had. Him and Duke Leto, whose unwavering sense of duty made him take you in at the Castle when your parents died on a mission he orchestrated. Responsibility above all else, all the qualities he aimed at instilling in his young son. And it couldn’t hurt Paul to have a friend his own age, could it?

You slipped into his room, both of you giggling like you’d just played the best prank on his sleeping parents. His bed was huge for a 7-year-old, more space than one boy could ever need regardless of his nobility. Tonight, it was your playground, stretching for miles.

Paul scrambled up first, then turned and offered you his hand. “Bet you I can jump higher than you,” he said, a challenge clear in his eyes.

You took his hand, pulling yourself up and laughing as the two of you bounced on the mattress, trying to outdo each other in height and bravery. You weren’t worried about waking anyone. Even if Duke Leto found you – and he often did – his stern reprimands were laced with amusement.

This was not the first time the two children had snuck into each other’s rooms after dark, the activity becoming more habit than occasion. Nights like this were your shared rebellion, a refusal to let the day end just because the sun had gone down, just because Jessica had tucked Paul into bed an hour earlier for bedtime.

Eventually, after you had worn yourselves out, you collapsed side by side on the bed, your breaths heavy from laughter. You stared up at the ceiling, still giggling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“I don’t want it to be bedtime ever again,” Paul said, his voice soft, almost wistful.

You turned your head to look at him, sprawled out on the massive mattress, dark hair in his eyes that reflected the dim moonlight streaming through the window. You understood exactly what he meant.

“Me neither,” you replied with a smile. Your hand found his under the covers.

Neither of you moved as your true bedtime took over, the quiet settling in around you, comfortable and warm. You fell asleep like that, fingers intertwined, with no concept of what it meant to have boundaries. There was just Paul, and you, and the night that was never long enough.

***

In the wake of your early teens at the castle, sneaking into each other’s rooms had become less about rebellion and more about comfort. The innocence of bouncing on beds and stifled laughter gave way to whispered conversations in the dark and the shared weight of fears neither of you quite understood yet.

The first time Paul came to your room because of a nightmare, it startled you. You were just about to drift off when you heard the soft creak of your door, followed by the quiet patter of feet. You jerked up from the mess of blankets, blinking into the darkness. Confusion and perhaps a bit of fear grasped you, until you saw his silhouette standing near the edge of your bed.

“Paul?” you whispered, straightening up. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first, he didn’t know how. With his tense expression and shadows playing across his face, he looked haunted despite his still small, boy-like frame. You knew him in and out by now, and could clearly read the signs of his nails digging into the skin of his fingers, breathing shallow and uneven.

“Can I stay?” His voice was rougher than usual, like he was barely holding it together.

“Of course.”

You didn’t ask any questions, it was a silent understanding. Instead, you lifted the blanket, making room for him. He crawled in without hesitation, laying his head on the pillow on your left. His body rigid beside yours for a moment before he relaxed, the tension slowly draining away.

Lying there, you listened to the sound of his breathing steadying, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you, arm against arm. It was quiet, but not silent – the kind of quiet that only existed when you knew someone else was there with you. Someone who understood. Someone who would never judge you for being afraid.

In his newfound safety, Paul drifted off easier than he could in his own bed. Yours was significantly smaller, but somehow softer, and he could actually feel the weight of you beside him on the mattress. He could ground himself in your presence. When he fell asleep, his head fell slightly to the side, his hair brushing against your cheek.

You, on the other hand, stayed awake a little longer, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts racing.

You’d always been each other’s rock, but now, something was different. The comfort you found in his presence was deeper, more profound. It wasn’t just about not wanting to be alone anymore, it was about needing him specifically. It brought a smile to your face to know that he found that same assurance in you.

***

The weights on your shoulders materialised and became clearer as you grew beside each other. At sixteen, the favours Duke Leto had bestowed upon you by allowing you residence and education at Caladan felt like a debt more than a blessing. One you had to repay through excellence, through true devotion to any and all training given to you. While Paul tried to seem more lighthearted about it all, it could be felt in the air all the same. You were no longer just two children sneaking around a castle that seemed to never end. You were a future duke and a noblewoman-in-training, navigating a world that seemed to have its eyes on you at every moment.

To earn your gifted title and position and prove yourself worthy of your place as Paul’s friend, you poured over every textbook your teachers assigned you. The study of Caladan, of politics, traditions and customs occupied your mind to the extent that you neglected the occupant of your heart.

Yet, at late hours, it was always Paul’s bedroom floor the pair found themselves splayed across.

Sheets of notes, pens and books layed on top of themselves in a system neither of you could have been able to explain to an outsider. Paul against the wall with his notebook, you stomach-down on the carpet, nose buried between the words in your textbook.

“You’re going to wear yourself out.” Paul’s words were muttered, watching you through tired eyes.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just one more chapter.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“I mean it this time.”

Paul didn’t argue, but you could feel his eyes on you as you worked, his presence a quiet comfort beside you. It had become routine, the two of you studying together, you claimed you worked better that way. Paul occasionally asking questions while you tried to focus on your own work but more often than not, you ended up helping him instead of yourself.

Your one-more-chapter became two more as you tried to retain the information, but your eyelids grew heavier, your focus slipping. The same sentence became burned into your retinas without making much more sense.

Ever so slowly, your head was brought closer and closer to the ink. Eventually it was all you could see before your cheek hit the page – you were out as a light.

Paul watched you for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. This was not the first time. He closed his own book and moved quietly to your side. He brought a finger up to brush some of your hair out of your face before he rolled you over. Gently, he lifted you, careful not to wake you as he carried you to the bed. His bed.

It had almost become part of the routine, he watches you exhaust yourself and then ensures you get the rest you deserve. He had done this before, but each time, it made his chest tighten more in ways he didn’t fully understand.

As he laid you down delicately, he hesitated by your side for just a moment, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the peaceful expression on your face. He didn’t realise how often he found himself staring at you like this, wondering when the girl who used to be his playmate had become someone he couldn’t stop thinking about. Someone he wanted to protect, to keep close, even as you worked yourself to the bone. He wanted to tell you you didn’t have to, that he knew and that you were enough. Instead, he let his instinct win and lightly caressed the soft flesh of your arm.

After a brief pause, Paul pulled the covers over you and sat on your edge of the bed for a while longer. He was tired himself, but he didn’t want to move. Not just yet.

***

The past few months felt as if they stretched on for years with how much change and development you were faced with, almost forcefully. Despite your efforts, the older you got, the more you felt like a young girl attempting to parade as a grown woman ready for whatever duties Duke Leto sees fit of you, as a “noblewoman” without any true blood given nobility.

Paul had been dancing around your worries for a while now, cutting off your worried rants with funny quips and dragging you from the library or training room to the beach when he believed you too worrisome. However, his duties were catching up to him as well, even when he tried to balance on the beam with you. He would be a duke one day, and though he had acted like a prince all his life, this was much more real.

His duties were specifically catching up to him in the form of one Lady Jessica. Reminders, comments, requests to his teachers and staff. She wanted him to start becoming the man he needs to be.

One of her lectures was playing out before your eyes in the library, though it escaped you how it even began. The soft, rhythmic drumming of the rain against the high windows felt like the one thing tethering you this world as she spoke, shadows cast across her face.

Lady Jessica’s voice sliced through the rain, calm but pointed. Leaving the air around you feeling heavy. You sat at a table beside Paul, as she stood above you, a judge passing through your reading session. Her sharp eyes, blue within blue, never seemed to miss anything.

She had always watched you carefully, ever since you were children – though it wasn’t until recently that you noticed how her gaze lingered on you. Emotion indecipherable, yet somehow your stomach seared from it. She was assessing you on criteria it felt you had no control over.

“You’re both approaching the age where things will change,” Jessica said, her gaze flicking between you and Paul. Her tone was deceptively gentle, like the calm before a storm. “You can no longer afford to be... careless.”

There was a long pause, a silence that felt charged with unspoken meaning. Paul shifted beside you, and though you didn’t look at him, you could feel the tension in the way he carried himself, alert, almost defensive.

“I’m not just speaking about duties to the House or the formalities expected of you as you come of age.” Lady Jessica’s eyes rested on you, sharp and assessing. “I’m also speaking about the way you conduct yourselves in your personal relationships.”

Your heart stuttered at the implication, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. You did not wish to dig into the meaning behind her words.

This was not the first time she’d given such a lecture, but it was the first time it felt so personal. So aimed. It was understood she must be referring to the hours upon hours you spent together, including in the moonlight. The quiet moments where you and Paul sought each other out, clinging to your comfort when the world felt too heavy to bear alone.

It was never intended to be anything inappropriate. You were each other’s safety nets, just like you had always been. But still, you felt a pang of shame coil in your chest at the thought of it being seen that way.

“You have been given responsibilities that go beyond your own desires,” Jessica continued, turning slightly toward Paul. “You are the heir to the House of Atreides, Paul. Every decision you make now, every relationship you allow to develop, can impact that legacy.”

Paul’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you risked a glance at him. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his posture betrayed his discomfort. His eyes flicked to you, worry clouding them more than annoyance at his mother’s words. He searched your face for something, and did not seem happy with what he saw, but you ripped your gaze away a mere second after.

He was not thinking about his legacy. In that moment, all he thought about was you and how you were feeling.

Your stomach twisted, and the weight of it all – the difference in your status, the expectations that shadowed both your lives – seemed too much. Lady Jessica was not wrong, and Gods did you hate it. You glanced down, willing the words to settle somewhere far away, somewhere that wouldn’t hurt so much.

“You must understand,” Jessica said, her voice softer now, but no less firm, “the time for childish games is over. It’s time for both of you to take your roles more seriously. The future will not wait for you to be ready.”

The words hit you harder than they should have, like a reprimand for something you had not yet done but already felt guilty about. You wanted to say something, anything to show that you understood, that you weren’t some distraction pulling Paul away from his responsibilities, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you nodded stiffly, keeping your eyes trained on the floor.

Jessica gave a tight-lipped smile you did not see, before turning around to take her leave, pleased with the efficiency of your talk. She was gone, her robes whispering against the stone floor as she left you alone with the silence she had created between you two.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The weight of Jessica’s words still hung heavy in the room, thickening the air between you. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, not yet.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Paul finally said, his voice low and careful, like he was testing the waters.

When you did not respond, Paul let out a soft sigh, moving his body towards you. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother—”

“Your mother is always worried,” you cut in, more sharply than you intended. You could feel the weight of it all pressing down on you. The constant reminders of how you didn’t quite fit into this world of nobility and politics, how your presence was tolerated but not truly embraced by the one woman you wished to be on your side. “And maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

You did not elaborate, you did not need to.

Paul’s expression tightened, and before you could move away, he reached out, gently gripping your hands between his. His touch was warm, grounding, but you tried not to let yourself sink into it.

“No,” he said, his voice firm now. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head again. “But your mother thinks—”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words were out of Paul’s mouth before he could stop them, and for a moment, he looked almost startled by his own admission. He blinked, as if trying to make sense of his own boldness, before his grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he said, quieter this time, but no less intense. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

You looked up at him then, your breath catching at the rawness in his voice. Paul never let anyone see him like this—not even you most of the time, not fully. But now, there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Desperation, maybe. Or something deeper, something unspoken.

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he continued, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret he’d been keeping for too long. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

Your chest tightened, torn between the overwhelming urge to believe him and the guilt that had been festering inside you since Jessica’s words. You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes made it impossible to say any words out loud.

So instead, you swallowed your thoughts, pressing them deep down where they couldn’t be reached.

“We just need to be more careful,” you said softly, pulling your hands away from his grasp. Your skin still tingled where his fingers had been. “Your mother’s right. We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s face fell, the tension in his shoulders sagging slightly. His now-free hands went up to rub at his face before he sighed. “But we’re not acting like kids.”

“Aren’t we?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul was quiet for a long moment, his eyes flicking away from you, as if he couldn’t bring himself to argue. Maybe because deep down, he knew you were right.

But then, just as the silence between you started to feel unbearable, he spoke again, his voice quieter, but full of conviction.

“Nothing has changed though. Not between us.”

The words lingered in the air, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t know how to respond. A part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to cling to the idea that no matter what the world threw at you, no matter what Lady Jessica said, you and Paul would always be the same. The same two people who had spent years leaning on each other, who had always been there to catch each other when the ground fell away.

Yet, you knew what Paul’s wishful thinking sounded like more than anyone else. You knew everything about him. And in this moment, you knew he was wrong. No matter how much you both tried to ignore it, the future was closing in around you.

“I should go,” you said quietly, getting up from your seat before he could say or do anything to stop you. “I need to think.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough to keep you rooted in place for just a moment longer, looking down at him. He still looked so young, his eyes so wide. That familiar ache settled in your chest, the same ache that came whenever you thought about what you were trying so hard not to lose.

“I will see you tomorrow,” you said, and with that you left him to sit with the sound of rain drops against glass.

After Jessica’s most pointed lecture, your unease at night, the one you and Paul seemed cursed to be forever plagued by as children of the castle, had only increased. You woke in cold sweat or you did not wake at all – regardless, you stayed in your own bed, never venturing down that familiar path in the hallway. You hugged your knees for comfort.

You were a proper young woman. As you ought to be.

Nothing could get you and Paul to stop spending time with each other entirely though, not his mother and certainly not complicated feelings. There was already a lot of that flowing around anyway.

Classes, meals, walks around the hallways, the occasional silent moment watching the waves side by side in a large window. Never late-night visits. Never lingering too much, especially not around Jessica.

She seemed pleased with your development, so you bit your cheek and played the part.

It had been months since either of you crossed that invisible boundary, but the comfort of those nights lingered in your minds, a shared memory you couldn’t quite let go of. One that you held tight on rough nights.

Ironically enough, it was the nights without thunder or storms that you struggled the most. Gripped by fear and horror, you fought through the worst nightmare you had experienced in many years. Mangled bodies, fire and smoke, Paul’s face distorted by sandstorms that you swear you could feel cut into your fragile skin like class.

The scream was lodged in your throat as you shot up, finally able to pull yourself out of the depths of your consciousness of all that has happened and all you fear will. Drowning in sweat and tears, violently trembling all over, you suddenly found yourself on your feet in the cold hallway.

No coherent thoughts were running through your head, just instinct and an intense need to be saved from your own mind. Even in a waking state, you still felt half infused in the nightmare, seeing the scenes when you blink, as if tattooed on your eyelids.

Almost running down the known path, your hand grazing the wall as you went to stabilise yourself. The rational part of your brain told you it wasn’t appropriate, that you should listen to Jessica, you were both too old to be doing this – but you were not in a rational state of mind right now. Right now you were the same scared little girl you have always been, the one you fear you always will be, and you knew what you needed to do to quiet her screams.

When you reached his door, you paused, your hand hovering over the handle. What if he didn’t want this anymore? What if he would turn you away?

Before you could second-guess yourself further, the door creaked open, and there he was. Paul stood in the doorway, lit up from behind by a single candle on his nightstand. His eyes were wide as he took the sight of you in, but there was no real surprise etched on his face. However, if you weren’t mistaken, you thought you saw relief in it. Like he had been waiting for you, hoping for you to come.

Paul breathed your name out like a ‘thank you’, stepping aside to let you in before you could even speak. His hair was dishevelled, his shirt wrinkled from where he must have been lying awake, staring at the tall ceiling.

You slipped in past him, already feeling some tension leave your body as soon as the door closed behind you. You weren’t sure what to say. Maybe you didn’t need to say anything at all. Letting your eyes meet his, the look on Paul’s face told you everything you needed to know.

Without a word, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed, his presence a warm, steadying force behind you. He didn’t ask you any questions, he didn’t need to. You both knew that whatever it was, it was enough to bring you here, to him.

You hesitated for just a moment, feeling the weight of the years between you. When you were children, there had been no second thoughts, no hesitation. But now, voices were creeping in – but you shoved them aside like his blankets, and climbed into his bed.

When Paul slid into bed beside you, everything felt right again.

The tension in your body melted away as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and suddenly, the fear that had gripped you moments ago faded into nothing.

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the last of your tremors subsided. He was your anchor, your constant in a world that was rapidly spinning out of control.

“Are you okay?” Paul finally asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You nodded against him, but your throat felt tight, your words stuck behind the weight of everything unsaid. The nightmare had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, and it wasn’t just about the dark images in your head. It was the fear of losing Paul, of losing the one person who had been by your side for as long as you could remember.

“I’m glad you came,” Paul said quietly. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, his hand tightening slightly on your shoulder as if to ground himself.

“I know,” you whispered, finally finding your voice. “I wanted to come sooner.”

There was a pause, and then, after a long moment, Paul’s thumb began tracing slow circles on your arm, his touch gentle but deliberate. It was a gesture of comfort, of familiarity.

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured, so softly you almost didn’t hear him. “I swear it.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head up, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His face was serious, his eyes reflecting the weight of the promise he’d just made. For a brief second, you thought he might say more, something you’d been waiting for but weren’t ready to confront.

Instead, Paul’s expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, the gesture tender, reassuring. It was something he might have done when you were younger, but now it felt different. It wasn’t just comfort anymore—it was a part of the promise.

Neither of you said anything after that. You simply held each other, letting the quiet settle in. The world outside might have been shifting, changing in ways neither of you could control, but here, in the stillness of the night, there was nothing but you and Paul.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, only that, for the first time in a long while, you felt safe. And unfortunately, as the next few days would ensure, it was the last time for a long while as well.

***

When Arrakis claimed Duke Leto, it also claimed something inside Paul.

He wasn’t the same after that day. The boy who had been your partner in rebellion, the one who made you laugh even in the darkest of times, had hardened. His grief was silent, buried under layers of duty and survival, but you could see it. It was in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes had dulled since your arrival on this cursed planet.

In the middle of it all, you felt lost too. You had lost the closest you had to a father figure in Duke Leto, but worse, you were losing Paul—bit by bit, day by day, as he was forced to become someone you struggled to recognise. This was a different kind of nightmare, one you couldn’t wake from.

After growing used to the luxury of Caladan Castle’s beddings, you found yourself huddled with Paul in a small tent in the middle of the desert, the harsh winds of Arrakis howling outside. There was nothing but sand for miles, and for the first time since arriving on this planet, you felt truly untethered from the life you once knew.

Paul sat across from you, his back pressed against the rough fabric of the tent, his face half-shadowed by the faint light from a small glowglobe. His eyes were distant, fixed on something you couldn’t see, something only he could comprehend.

“Paul?” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t answer at first, but then, slowly, his gaze shifted to you. There was a fragility there that caught you off guard—a vulnerability that reminded you of the boy you used to sneak around the castle with, the one who used to chase away your fears with a single glance.

Without thinking, you moved closer, kneeling in front of him. His breath hitched as you reached out, gently placing one hand on his arm and the other on his cheek. He looked down at your fingers, as if surprised by the touch, before his eyes met yours again.

You wanted to say something, anything at all, to ease his pain. To take some of the burden off his shoulders, even if that meant taking them upon your own. No words felt worthy enough and died in your throat, while the sentiment remained hot on your tongue.

With Arrakis raging around you, you wanted him to feel some sense of security.

“I’m still here,” you whispered, echoing the words he had said to you when you were the one needing the comfort.

For a moment, he just stared at you. Then, with a twitch of his lips, something cracked in his expression, something that had been carefully held in place to keep it all in. Paul’s shoulders sagged, the weight of loss and doom pressing down on him all at once.

He didn’t say anything, but when you shifted closer and pulled him into your arms, he didn’t resist. He simply let you hold him, his head resting against your shoulder, his breath shaky and uneven.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s presence as the storm outside raged on. The world around you was crumbling, but here, in the faux quiet of the tent, there was nothing but the two of you. You didn’t have words for what you were feeling, but it didn’t matter. Paul understood. He always had.

As if the continued touch broke him, Paul made a sound like a tear-less sob, saving water while still drowning in emotion. His arms tightened around you, holding onto you for dear life.

He murmured something against your neck that you couldn’t hear. You made an inquisitive humming sound as you began to stroke his back, coaxing him through his pain.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. His voice was raw, it sent ripples through your heart. “Please.”

“You won’t,” you promised, your fingers moving up to card through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Paul. I’ll be right here with you.”

If he wanted to answer, he couldn’t. Instead he let himself have this moment before facing a world that seemed increasingly too big.

***

Life among the Fremen was harsh, unforgiving, but the two of you had learned to survive. It had been weeks since you arrived in the sietch, and every day felt like a battle—against the elements, against the constant threat of danger, against the growing distance between you and the boy you grew up with.

The desert night was deceptively cool, the air carrying a sharpness that contrasted with the oppressive heat of the day. You stood just outside the sietch, gazing up at the unfamiliar stars that stretched endlessly above the dunes. The sky was clear—almost too clear—so different from the comforting overcast of Caladan, the gentle crash of waves a memory long lost to the wind. You inhaled deeply, trying to ground yourself, but the vastness of the desert made you feel small. Disconnected.

There were few quiet moments here, and you took a deep breath as you were surrounded by it.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind you, soft but deliberate. Without turning, you of course knew it was Paul. He came up behind you, standing slightly to your left so you could see him in your sideview. You leaned back, resting your shoulder on his own.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Paul laughed lowly – some things never change. “Neither could I.”

You shook your head, still staring at the stars. “I don’t know if I’ve had a proper night’s sleep since we left Caladan.”

“I miss the rain,” Paul said quietly. “I never thought I would. I used to complain about it when we were kids.”

You smiled faintly. “Don’t lie, you hated being inside when it rained. You’d drag me out into the mud even when it was pouring.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Well, you never said no.”

“I never could.”

There was a pause, one that carried the weight of the past few months – Arrakis, the loss of Duke Leto, the constant struggle for survival. The two of you had grown so used to moving, fighting, planning for the next step, that there had been no time to sit with your grief. No time to just be, in the way you only can with each other.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Paul murmured, glancing at you sideways. “How quickly everything changes. A few months ago, we were on Caladan, complaining about studies, sneaking into each other’s rooms like we always used to... and now–”

“We’re here,” you finished for him, your voice quieter. “In the middle of the desert.”

Paul’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you felt the weight of his gaze. You’d been through so much together, seen so much of each other, in ways no one else had. Yet there was still a distance between you now, a hesitation that hadn’t been there when you were younger.

It was as though you both knew you were standing on the edge of something, but neither of you dared to cross it.

“I was thinking...” Paul started, his voice trailing off. He looked away, frowning slightly as if choosing his words carefully. “Would it be... strange if you stayed with me tonight? Just for comfort, I mean.”

Your heart skipped, somehow caught off guard by the question. There had been so many nights, both as children and as teenagers, where you had found solace in each other’s company. Whether from nightmares, from stress, or simply because being apart felt wrong.

“Not strange, anyone would need a bit of comfort in our situation,” you tried at humour before looking back at him with soft eyes.

He didn’t say anything, seemingly trapped between his thoughts. Usually when you spend the night together lately it was because of difficult emotions. You open the door for him to talk about his feelings.

“Are you– are you okay?” you asked, searching his face for the answer.

Paul was always the one holding everything together, always taking on the weight of his responsibilities without complaint. But tonight, standing under the cold desert sky, he seemed tired. Tired in a way that went beyond just sleepless nights.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked out over the dunes, his expression unreadable, though the subtle tightening of his jaw told you he was wrestling with something.

“I’ve been thinking about my father,” he finally said, his voice thick with the grief he rarely let slip. “About everything he wanted for me. For us. How he wanted me to be a ruler who led with compassion, but how can I...?” He trailed off, swallowing hard, and you could see the battle raging behind his eyes.“I don’t know if I can be what he wanted.”

Your heart ached at his words. You had always known Paul felt the weight of his future, but you hadn’t realised how deeply it cut. Stepping closer, you touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention back to you.

“You already are,” you said softly. “Even in the middle of all this, Paul, you haven’t lost that part of yourself. Your father would see that.”

He exhaled shakily, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world fell away. There was a vulnerability there, one he rarely let show. It made something inside you shift, as though the careful lines you had mentally drawn to protect yourself, to keep things unchanged between you, were suddenly blurring.

“I’m just afraid of losing more,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Of losing everyone I care about. Losing you.”

The words settled heavily in the space between you, a truth that had always lingered but was now undeniable. You were no longer just childhood friends. You were no longer just companions trying to survive. There was a throne in your heart, and on it, Paul was more than just a duke.

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, turning towards him and stepping even closer. “You couldn’t. I’m here, Paul, I’ve always been here.”

Paul stared at you, his expression shifting into something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes softened, the hard edges that had been carved into him by grief and duty melting away, if only for a moment. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you now, something that had been building for years but had never quite been said aloud.

“You don’t understand,” Paul whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t lose you. Not just because you’re the last piece of Caladan I have left... but because I—”

He stopped, his throat working as if the words were too hard to say. But you knew what he meant. You’d always known, hadn’t you?

Paul took a step closer, the last step separating his body from yours. His hand lifted to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers lingered at the base of your neck, and you were sure he could feel the rapid beat of your heart in your pulsepoint. It echoed the weight of what he wasn’t saying.

“You can say it,” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation.

Paul’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the verge of stepping back, of retreating into that familiar space where he could hide from the truth. But then his palm made contact with the side of your neck, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. Breathing in deeply, slowly.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret he had been holding onto for too long. “I have loved you for so long, and I didn’t even realise it. But now, I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your heart stuttered at the confession, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t a declaration shouted from the rooftops, it wasn’t a grand, romantic gesture. It was quiet, real, the kind of love that had grown slowly over years, woven into every shared moment, every laugh, every late-night conversation.

“And I love you,” you whispered back, the words barely audible in the quiet of the desert night. “You’re my best friend, my person. You must know that.”

Paul let out a soft, almost relieved breath, his hand moving up to cup your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his. There was a question in his eyes, one he didn’t need to ask. You answered it by leaning in, lips barely brushing against his, before he closed the final gap with the gentlest of kisses. He was tentative, as though testing the waters of something new, something fragile but real.

It was a kiss that felt like a promise.

It lingered, even when he pulled back ever so slowly, resting his forehead back against yours.

You both stood there in the quiet, the weight of the desert and the night around you, but the tension between you finally dissipating through your touches.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Paul whispered again, his voice steady this time, though the vulnerability was still there, just beneath the surface.

“I will stay with you every night, if that would make you happy.” There was no hesitation in your voice or your heart. Just love.

A smile spread on his face before he pressed it against your lips in another kiss. Searing, caring, passionate. This was the closest you have seen him to his old boyish self, always happy to bask in your presence.

Letting his hand travel down to find yours, he interlaced your fingers and pulled you back into the sietch.

His room was small, barely big enough for the both of you, a stark contrast to your conditions at Caladan. But as you lay down beside each other, it didn’t matter, you were glad for the excuse to keep him even closer. Paul wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly, and for the first time since Arrakis had stolen everything from you, you felt safe. Safe in the knowledge that whatever came next, whatever trials the desert or the universe had in store, you wouldn’t face them alone.

As you lay in his arms, your head resting against his chest, you whispered, “We’ll get through this, Paul. Together.”

Paul’s grip tightened around you, and you could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

“We will,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

“And I you. No matter what, my love.”

Warmth spread across Paul’s face at the name. He thought, with sleep beginning to cloud his mind, that though there are many uncomfortable changes – that is one he will happily accept.

For the first time in weeks, you both fell asleep easily, wrapped in the comfort of each other, and the quiet promise of the love that had finally, after all these years, been released into dry air.

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itsreallynotriri · 2 months ago

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The Duke’s Betrothed

Y/N and Paul sneaking around.

Paul Atreides x Fem!reader

word count: 773

warnings: fluff, arranged marriage

requested by: @ekgrooms using A6 and B7

masterlist, Paul masterlist

The first time Y/N laid eyes on Paul Atreides, it was as if the universe itself conspired to halt time. Their gazes locked across the grand hall of Castle Caladan, where their engagement was to be announced, and in that instant, nothing else existed—only him. The weight of duty, the careful maneuvering of noble houses, and the whispers of political alliances all melted away. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, all sharp cheekbones and piercing blue eyes, a quiet storm wrapped in nobility.

Paul felt it too. The moment his eyes met Y/N’s, something within him shifted. He had expected another strategic marriage, another lesson in duty—but instead, he found her. And she was radiant, her presence like a force of gravity, pulling him in, making him forget the careful lessons of restraint and propriety.

The announcement had been made with all the pomp and circumstance expected of two great houses uniting, but neither of them had needed it. Theirs was not an arrangement of convenience or power—it was fate.

Y/N’s arrival on Caladan had been an affair of state. Her family, noble and prestigious, had disembarked from their ornithopter with all the grandeur expected of a house worthy of binding itself to the Atreides name. Banners bearing their sigil fluttered in the sea breeze, and a formal procession led them toward the towering castle.

Duke Leto Atreides stood at the forefront, his expression a carefully measured blend of welcome and authority. Lady Jessica stood at his side, her Bene Gesserit training evident in the poised way she assessed the newcomers. Paul, however, stood a step ahead, his heart pounding in his chest as he laid eyes on Y/N for the first time.

Her father spoke first, bowing slightly to Leto before introducing his daughter. “Duke Atreides, my daughter Y/N. May this union bring prosperity and strength to both our houses.”

Y/N inclined her head in graceful acknowledgment, but it was Paul’s gaze she sought, and when their eyes met, the world seemed to still. He took a careful step forward, offering his hand. “It is an honor to meet you,” he said, his voice softer than expected, as if he had already surrendered to whatever force had drawn them together.

Her fingers met his, and a charge passed between them, subtle yet undeniable. The formalities continued around them, but Y/N barely registered them, her attention solely on the young duke-to-be before her. She had heard of Paul Atreides—his intelligence, his sense of duty, the legend already forming around his name—but no account had prepared her for this.

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” Y/N whispered breathlessly against Paul’s lips as he pressed her against the cold stone wall of the castle’s secluded corridor.

He smirked, his hands framing her face as he leaned in once more, his breath warm against her skin. “I’d take the blame gladly.”

She giggled but it was quickly swallowed by another kiss—deep, urgent, as if they were trying to make up for lost time. They had been forced to endure a night of public appearances, endless toasts and polite conversation, all while their hearts pounded with the knowledge that they’d find a way to steal away, just the two of them. And now, with the moonlight spilling through the high windows, they had.

Paul pulled back just enough to brush his thumb along her cheek, his expression softening. “Do you trust me?”

Y/N exhaled, her fingers tangling in the fabric of his tunic. “With everything.”

His lips found hers again, slow and intoxicating, as he pressed her even closer. The castle was vast, its corridors twisting and labyrinthine, but in that moment, they could have been standing at the edge of the universe, alone in their own world.

Every stolen kiss, soft laugh against skin, whispered name felt like a rebellion against formality, expectation, and time itself. Paul’s hands settled at her waist, his forehead resting against hers as they caught their breath. The air between them charged with something more than just attraction.

Love.

Real, undeniable, unshakable love.

A noise down the hall had them both freezing, their hearts leaping into their throats. Paul grasped her hand without thinking, his reflexes honed from years of training. They dashed down the corridor, barely suppressing their laughter as they slipped into the shadows, breathless and exhilarated.

Y/N squeezed his fingers. “If we keep sneaking around like this, we might actually get in trouble.”

Paul grinned. “Worth it.”

And as he pulled her into another stolen kiss, she had to agree. Worth it, indeed.

#timothée chalamet #dune #timothée chalamet imagines #paul atreides #paul atreides x reader #usul #paul muad'dib #fluff #arrange marriage #sneaking around

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sscrslvr · 2 months ago

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"winds of the desert heart "

(paul atreides x female!reader)

Part 1: Destined to Be

Word count: 3.1k

Description: At a party in the Atreides' Caladan mansion, you, the lovely and honorable princess of House Corrino, are introduced to Paul Atreides. You two are attracted to one another right away. You and Paul have an unrivaled electric chemistry. You're wickedly smart, terribly funny, and perfectly flawless, and Paul is just the same. You and Paul become closer, both literally and figuratively, with every second that goes by. You both secretly concur that you would be more than happy to continue pursuing whatever odd thing was occurring between you two for longer than one night, no matter what it took.

Warnings: Fem!reader, princess!reader, Corrino!reader, mentions of sexual activites(no actual smut yet), brief mentions of alcohol and drugs/spice, (SPOILER: talk of political marriage)

Authors note: I worked hard to make sure this was INCREDIBLY lore accurate with no spelling or grammatical errors. I PRAY that ya'll are okay with whatever format this is lol. This is my first fanfic EVER so I'm open to criticism!!! Let me know if you have any recommendations or anything, I'm planning to make this a pretty long series, but this part is sort of like a teaser to see if you even want any more parts. This DOES end quite abruptly. Anyways, enjoy!

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“--Duke Atreides, you have simply outdone yourself,” a peculiarly tipsy lady had said to Paul just a moment ago. Her drunkenness explained how she mistook the boy for Duke Leto, Paul’s father. Her jeweled fingers held a wine-filled crystal glass with a lipstick-covered rim above her head in celebration, her gaze drifting around the large dining hall, which was filled with people of all sorts.

The people in the room were either high-class citizens of the Imperial House Corrino and House Atreides, nobles of the Landsraad Council, the wealthiest Ixian engineers, or the Imperium’s favorite spice smugglers—who were disguised as wealthy folk, of course. Everyone was dressed in their finest suits and gowns, drinking spice-melange-infused liquor and the famous Caladanian fine wine. At first glance, it was a party. A grand one at that. But in reality, it was just another boring political meeting disguised as an entertaining event—mainly so the elites’ children could grow more familiar with each other for when they will have to take on their parents’ roles. You and Paul fell under that category.

“The compliments go to my mother; she did all the planning,” Paul replied plainly, eager to shake this strange woman off of him. You had seen many women come up to him, hoping to find some entertainment at this party. However, Paul remained firm and treated them all the same: dismissive but respectful. You notice his eyes dart around the room, searching for somebody else to converse with, before they land on Gurney Halleck, the Atreides’ weapons master, who was drunkenly singing and strumming the strings of his baliset. Paul bid the woman a hasty farewell, then paced off into the crowd of old nobles with leathery faces who reeked of spice melange until he was out of your view, so you decided to focus your mind on something else to pass time.

You were seated in a velvet-cushioned armchair at a small table in the corner of the dining hall, which you had found around 10 minutes ago to escape awkward, persisting conversation with some unknown young lord of some old forgotten land—whose breath smelled like manure and greed and some of the main course from tonight's meal. You presently sighed at the painfully recent memory, praying to some god that you would never again have to cross paths with whoever that was. To distract yourself, you studied the room.

Glowglobes had been freshly lighted to appease light among the early dark, casting shades of orange upon the pristine marble floors that held swirling colors of the richest maroons and emerald greens and precious golds. Your eyes dragged across the floor to the other side of the room, which had an entryway cut out of the stone wall. Around a dozen foolish female guests were crowding the center of the Great Hall, grouped around the palace’s grand fireplace. An open blaze crackled there, emitting heat and small flickers of light onto jewels and beads and costly fabrics of the women’s dresses. They were all quietly cursing themselves for mistaking Caladan for a warm environment, wishing they’d brought their fine whale fur coverings—or at least had worn longer gowns.

You stared at them, now realizing that half of them were the daughters of spice smugglers and the other half were most likely some descendants from the nobles of the Landsraad Council. One girl in an unsightly yellow-gold dress noticed your eyes upon the even more unsightly group, which evoked whispers to protrude from their thin lips and resulted in you turning your head in the opposite direction to avoid conflict—or worse, another unwanted conversation.

You sighed again, looking down at your bejeweled hands and fingers. You were observant. Too observant. You noticed every little detail, blaming the fact you were locked away in a palace for half of your life due to your father’s overprotective nature. Because of him, you normally succumbed to the library instead of pursuing a thrilling nightlife like other girls your age. But he had a good reason. He is none other than the Emperor Shaddam Corrino IV, an extremely noble man who rules the entirety of the known universe. With you being the most beautiful of his many daughters, he felt he needed to protect you from the horrors of the Imperium. And to make sure you never had to rely on a husband in the future, he made sure you were very well educated in geography, politics, history, economics, and so on. Because of this, you were wickedly intelligent, which ultimately heightened your observant nature.

Looking down at your glass of wine, noticing how the dim lighting reflected off of the deep red color, you entirely miss the fact that someone sat down at your table. Maybe you aren’t so observant after all.

“I beg that you don’t talk to me,” a male voice muttered in your direction. You quickly looked up, slightly offended by his words. You then saw it was Paul Atreides, and he had not even looked at you yet. You guessed he was avoiding all forms of contact, assuming you were just some stranger, which was self-explanatory because you were, in fact, sitting in a corner by yourself. “This party is giving me a migraine; I feel as if a sandworm is burying into my cranium,” he whispered under his breath to nobody in particular.

You started laughing at his analogy but desperately tried to choke back the sound. You averted your eyes back down to the table, shaking your head as your lips remained curved in a smile. You found it humorous, the sight of a young noble of the great House Atreides so bored and agitated at a very important event he’d even taken part in hosting. You thought it was amusing that he’d decide to start a conversation with you, if you could even call it that.

“...You were not supposed to hear that; I apologize,” he said genuinely after looking up and ogling at you for a few long seconds. Shocked was an understatement; he was bewildered. He had been eyeing you since you arrived, noticing that you had been looking at him as well. He knew who you were; everyone did, but he hadn't realized it was you he had spoken so rudely to. Paul Atreides had seen plenty of pretty women in his years of living; however, none of them seemed to stack up to you in terms of the effect you had. You certainly lived up to the rumors he’d heard about you—you were every bit the desirable daughter of the Emperor. While he typically remained aloof to women in general—as you had observed earlier—he found himself a bit more engaged in your proximity.

“Relax, Atreides. I won't call my Sardaukar troops on you… yet.” You tease, turning towards him and looking into his green eyes. He had a terrifyingly charming face; his hawk-like features and emerald irises made it nearly impossible to look away from him. And his hair… His hair was perfectly tousled, his dark brown curls twisted and twirled in every right direction. Your smile widens; you are fully amused now, thrilled to finally converse with someone of interest to you.

“And when does your highness plan to call them?” Paul posed in a faux-serious manner; his eyes sparkled with tease. He found himself shocked by both the sincerity of your amusement and the boldness of your words, which instantly tells him that you are, in fact, the Imperial princess of House Corrino, and you damn well have authority over him. He leans forward, resting his chin against his hand as he presses an elbow onto the table, regarding you with more attention than he had given any of the other guests this evening. His head tilts to the side as he studies the ineffability of your beautiful face, a lock of his hair falling into his eyes in the process.

“I will call them the next time you refer to me as ‘your highness,’ and I’ll be sure that my troops slice you to bite-sized pieces with their lasguns.” You jest, dramatically clutching your chest, your lips subtly curled upwards in a snarling frown in an attempt at disgust. Your ‘seriousness’ only lasts a couple of seconds before a wide grin returns to your face. Unfortunately or fortunately, it was hard to decide; you were growing more interested in Paul by the second.

“And you seem the type to follow through with your threats… Independent and well-calculated, just like your father.” He mused; his compliment was subtle, but he knew you’d detect it. He smirked at your reaction, bewitched by how your soft lips twitched upwards as you smiled. Yes, he certainly found you intriguing, a bit more than he should have.

“Threats? No, no. Favors, Paul Atreides.” You note back with a sly smirk, directing your attention to four women who were whispering in a circle. You gesture for him to look as well before you lean in and whisper, “It seems that group has taken quite an interest in you, don’t you think? You see that girl in the disappointing yellow-gold dress? That’s a spice smuggler’s daughter, and when I was grabbing a glass of wine from the beverage table, I overheard her sharing all of the things she wanted to do with you tonight.” Your words were woefully true, but you were only speaking them to further tease poor Paul.

“How unfortunate for her, then. I’d rather not associate myself with women of that sort. I have more… discriminating tastes.” Paul replied after biting back a laugh when you mentioned the daughter of the spice smuggler, the last person he’d ever want as a potential betrothed. He turned his gaze back to you as he spoke, his eyes focusing oddly more on your eyes, as if he wanted to memorize the way the colors in your iris blended together and created a reflection of your mind and soul. His stare wandered to your body, noticing how well you’d adorned an elegant dress of the finest silk. The future Duke was so drawn to you he could almost swear that you were a Bene Gesserit witch playing tricks on his mind. You had him enamored. He never wanted this banter to end.

“Discriminating tastes? Oh Paul, do tell,” you replied, a smirk plastered upon your masterpiece of a face. You are definitely enjoying this encounter. Paul Atreides was the only man at this gathering you’d be willing to associate with. You can’t help but glance at his lips every now and then as he grins, the sight so precious you would’ve compensated a painter one million Solaris to replicate his smile. You were falling deeper into whatever this was with each passing moment, prideful to know that you were the only one who could match these discriminating tastes he spoke about.

“My tastes would have me avoid the… gold,” he gestures in the direction of the young lady, “and look towards more… priceless treasures.” He leaned back in his chair, directing his attention back to you. Paul held your gaze, a soft, proud smirk apparent on his face. He knows the implication of his words will be obvious, especially to you. It only took him a few seconds earlier in the beginning of your conversation to pick up on your wit and intelligence.

“Well, it seems you've unfortunately eliminated a hefty majority of the women in this room from your taste profile,” you murmur, a teasing smile lifting the corners of your lips. However, as his words sink in, it grows into a more genuine grin; it seems stars have even started to twinkle in your eyes. You have this Atreides ducal heir wrapped around your finger, and you are quite ashamed to admit that he has the same effect on you as you do on him.

“That must mean fewer opportunities for my taste to be satisfied,” he muses, the playful tone in his voice betraying the sincerity in his eyes. “Perhaps the one I'm speaking to will suffice,” he adds, his lips twitching upwards in a smug grin. Paul now looks at you, the princess of the Great House Corrino, like you're the only woman in the world. His stare is so intense, so prying and intimate, that you feel like a soft blue egg lying in a nest of your mother's feathers high up in a swaying tree, vulnerable.

“Perhaps,” you echo as a means of replying. You lean forward, almost instinctively, and place your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. Looking up at the handsome Paul Atreides, you try to dissect his soul through his eyes. Your eyes hinted ‘yes,’ but your tone lied and whispered, ‘We’ll see.’. Is Paul bright enough to pick the correct answer between the two? Hm. Perhaps this party isn’t so boring.

Paul notices the agreement in your eyes and the playfulness in your tone. His gaze holds yours a bit longer before drifting to your perfect, sensuous lips. God, he’d be lying if he said he didn't want more of you. But the most dangerous thing was that you wanted more of him as well. You two look into each other's eyes again for one moment… Two moments—before Paul decides to speak for the both of you.

“I find myself wanting to satisfy my more… carnal tastes,” he admits with no hint of shame; his voice drops to a lower tone, laced with one too many touches of desire as he looks at your lips once more, “if we’re speaking in honesty.” He smirks, his eyes flick back up to yours as he waits for your response.

“Well, Paul Atreides, if we are speaking honestly, I must admit that I would be more than willing to engage in satisfying both our carnal desires. But I… like you.” You whisper, leaning closer as a soft smirk paints itself across your face. “If anything were to happen between us after this party concludes, I wouldn't wish for it to be a one-time thing. However, given our family backgrounds, we’d have to keep this a secret, at least temporarily.”

His eyes widen slightly at your unexpected honesty. He smiles at the thought of your desires, the idea of satisfying them. He is more than intrigued, though slightly wary of your like for him. He leans toward you again, the distance between you narrowing.

“The feeling is shared. I find myself wanting more than just a one-time encounter with you, princess. But I understand your concerns. If we were to partake in… this,” he gestures between the both of you, “it would have to be kept quiet and discreet.” Paul leaned back, contemplating the situation. While his interest in you is undeniably present, he knows the risks and consequences.

“I must admit,” he continues, but his eyes linger on your perfectly sensuous lips, “your beauty is unparalleled. However,” he pauses, meeting his eyes with yours once again, “the implications for our respective houses are not to be ignored.” Paul raises his glass of wine to his nose, giving it a swirl as he observes your reaction. “I don’t want you to mistake my actions as mere carnal desire. I have a genuine interest in pursuing a future with you, he admits, awaiting your response.

You find it excruciatingly hard to hold back a smile as he speaks. Happy was an understatement; you were thrilled to know he really wanted more than just a night of pleasure. While listening to his words and weighing your options, you have settled upon a very unique and possibly crazy idea. After a few more moments of thinking and processing, you speak.

“Well, Paul, it enlightens me to know you'd also like this to go further. I want something meaningful with you. But, as you said yourself, there are some possible negative outcomes that could happen between our houses if anyone discovers… this,” you gesture between you and him. “However, I have a solution. An idea, a plan. With some moments of consideration, I have come upon the fact that the one and only way we can pursue a relationship is through political, strategic marriage between our allying houses,” you propose, still putting the pieces together in your head.

“Marriage,” he echoes; the thought has crossed his mind in his moments of talking to you, but he hadn’t expected you to bring it up so quickly, “that is the only way we could pursue something meaningful without causing scandal or upsetting our houses.” He pauses, his mind processing the consequences and possibilities. “Political and strategic marriages are common. However, there are still questions… What about our personal desires? The physical chemistry between us is undeniable,” he whispered, his voice growing more sensuous by the second.

“Our personal desires would most definitely be quenched if we go through with this. Tonight we shall decide if our desires are worthy of being upheld so we can further discover if we would like to keep this a one-time occurrence or a long-term commitment—if you so wish, of course,” you whisper, subconsciously leaning closer to him. With each and every word he had spoken, you found yourself more inclined to touch him. Paul wasn’t stupid like the other men your age at this party. He was well-calculated, incredibly intelligent, and thoughtful. Oh god. Paul Atreides is already making you fall apart without even touching you yet. You quickly decide, before he could respond, to take a mental step back.

“I pray you don’t believe I’m thinking too irrationally; too far ahead…” You add, “I just can’t help but stare into your green eyes and dream,” you admit, much more than you should’ve. You embarrassedly put a hand on your forehead right after the words roll off your tongue so naturally. You feel oddly vulnerable with him, even though you have just truly met him.

“No, I don’t believe you’re thinking too far ahead,” he reassured you, placing his forearms on the table to lean closer. “Perhaps it’s the wine, or maybe it’s something else,” he admits, his voice softer than ever before. He raises a hand, gently caressing your soft, warm cheek with two long fingers. “I’m also unable to look away from you. There is something about you that I can't ignore, a pull that I can’t resist. I think you know that, princess,” he murmured, using your title in a strangely intimate manner. Your words had wrapped around him like a soft, seductive whisper. He could feel your physical proximity, and it was intoxicating; addictive, like spice. Paul couldn't ignore that; he couldn't shake the thought that he needed you in any way you were willing.

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loiladadiani · 2 years ago

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Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich (1857 - 1905)

Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich is in some ways a mystery and in others he is not.

He was the fifth son and seventh child of Emperor Alexander II of Russia. He was an influential figure during the reigns of his brother Emperor Alexander III of Russia (who trusted him) and his nephew Emperor Nicholas II, who was also his brother-in-law through Sergei's marriage to Elizabeth, the sister of Tsarina Alexandra. Sergei served for almost 15 years as the governor-general of Moscow until becoming a victim of terrorist violence in 1905 just when he was getting ready to leave the post. He was a very cultured man and spoke four languages in addition to Russian. He was also very religious (even though sometimes he showed concern about what he considered his wife Ella's excessive religiosity).

There is always much talk about the fact that his marriage to Ella was childless and that he wore a corset under his uniform (this was standard practice at some point in Prussia.) His sexual orientation seems to always be an issue. We don't really know because Ella and he left no papers, diaries, or letters that could enlighten us in that area. We do know why he wore the corset and why he seemed so impatient and uptight a great deal of the time: He had osteoarticular tuberculosis and was in a lot of pain most of the time. Within the family, he was extremely close to Grand Duke Pavel, his younger brother, and his sister Marie. He was also close to Tzar Alexander III and to Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich.

Several interesting quotes about him:

Consuelo Vanderbilt then Duchess of Malborough met him in Moscow, she considered him to be "One of the most handsome men I have ever seen."

Ernst Ludwig, Grand Duke of Hesse: " He was tall and fair with delicate features and beautiful light green eyes".

Marie, Queen of Romania: "Dry, nervous, short of speech, impatient, he had none of the rather careless good humor of his three elder brothers ... but for all that we loved him, felt irresistibly attracted to him, hard though he could be. Few perhaps cherish his memory, but I do."

Grand Duchess Marie, Duchess of Edinburg by marriage and later Grand Duchess of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha adored him and called him "an exceptionally nice young man... and can be recommended one very possible way, not because he is my brother, but because he is an exception among princes."

His wife sustained that she adored him. She also said that Sergei was the type of person you liked more as you got to know him better (paraphrase.)

I have read that many of the malicious rumors about him came from William II, the German Keiser, who had been in love with Ella; she turned him down to marry Sergei. Certainly, Grand Duke Alexander Milkhailovich (Sandro) did not do him any favors in his book "Once a Grand Duke." Although his book is quoted on the Romanovs very frequently, he is not always reliable.

The pictures of Sergei above are not frequently seen - all of them were reblogged from the tumblr blog sergei-and-ella-romanov

One more thing: His nickname was Giga.

Smilies Sergei and Ella

#russian history #imperial russia #romanov dynasty #nicholas ii #Alexander III #Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich #Giga #Grand Duke Paul Alexandrovich #Grand Duchess Marie Alexandrovich #Grand Duchess Ella Feodorovna #Marie #Q

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thepaleys · 7 months ago

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Dearest Missy!

Many thanks for your last letters. I am pleased that you liked my present. (…) These days I was busy, so did not write and then that terrible chagrin about Uncle Paul has been weighing heavily on my mind. The hard but just punishment has come upon him; he has been officially dismissed from the service and made an exile. His children are put under Vormundschaft [Guardianship] of Uncle Serge and the greater part of his fortune he cannot touch and it is put for them. And all that for the sake of an old coquette of past 40 who has had any amount of adventures in her life and who is no better than a cocotte du grande mond. And he, poor innocent fool, writes that it was his sacred duty to marry this woman and to break his word of honour to his sovereign! That is where we are going to now, it seems to me, nothing sacred anymore, than a foolish love for a worthless woman! The poor, poor children, who simply adore their father and whose young hearts were broken by this announcement, which Uncle Paul has been obliged to make to them himself by letter!

Well, I cannot think at anything else at present! He has also written to me, but I have not answered for the present. You see, no reasons and no arguments are of any use in such a case.

Yesterday Uncle Serge arrived here for 3 days from Darmstadt… he is simply broken hearted about Uncle Paul, though old age' has made him calm, and resigned about such family tragedies, that are becoming so frequent, that one resigns oneself to them, faute de les pouvoir éviter. He was very nice with Ducky and had a talk with her, so that she was rather touched. Beforehand she felt nervous and uncomfortable. I have asked him to speak with her about Kyrill, as this sad example now terrifies me and they are both fast drifting to the same end! No hope of any kind that it will be allowed, so if they persist, the same terrible fate is their only future! (...)

10 November 1902

My Dear Mama,

… Thank you so much for your letter. I can imagine that the thought of Uncle Paul, is dreadfully bitter, and how sad you & Uncle Serge must be thinking it all over, and such a dear and charming brother as Uncle Paul was too! And the dreadful thing is, that one cannot imagine that he can be happy. Perhaps a very few years and then the dreadful regret of all he has left will come, and his children; poor little Alix, if she had lived, all this would not have been - if she looks down from heaven how sad she must be, sometimes one really hopes that the dead know nothing more of what goes on down here, or they could not be happy in heaven! (...)

I am so pleased Uncle Serge was nice with Ducky, I am sure the meeting must have been painful to her. I share your anxiety about her future, I wonder how will it all end. Did Uncle Serge talk to her upon that subject also? Will Uncle Paul's children now live with Uncle Serge and Ella? (...)

Your loving Missy

#grand duchess maria alexandrovna #marie of romania #victoria melita #grand duchess victoria feodorovna #grand duke kyrill #grand duke sergei #grand duke paul #olga paley

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crazykotyara12 · 3 months ago

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He's not wrong tho

#russian history #history #russian empire #napoleonic era #historical shitpost #Paul I #paul i of russia #grand duke konstantin pavlovich of russia #Grand duke Konstantin Pavlovich #historical memes

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postcard-from-the-past · 1 year ago

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Grand Duke Sergei Alexandrovich of Russia, Grand Duchess Elizabeth Feodorovna of Russia, with 2 children of Grand Duke Paul Alexandrovich of Russia: Grand Duchess Maria Pavlovna of Russia and Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich of Russia

Russian vintage postcard

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rafecamerons-national-anthem · 4 months ago

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THE HIDDEN ONE-PAUL ATREIDES

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 Paul Atreides discovers Y/N, a mysterious woman caught between humanity and machines, created as a weapon by his family. As they grow closer, their bond challenges destiny. 𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The desert winds howled across the surface of Arrakis, carrying the endless whispers of fate and prophecy. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the still, vast expanse of sand. A new chapter in the Atreides lore was about to begin, one that had been written long before Paul Atreides was born. And though his mind had been consumed by visions of a future yet to be realized, there was one vision he could not shake. Her.

Y/N. The hidden one, a name he had never heard but whose presence seemed to loom over him in every moment of clarity. Her image, striking, enigmatic, with eyes that shimmered an unnatural blue, had appeared to him in fleeting moments, in the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness. He had seen her in the most unexpected places: in the stillness of the desert, in the heart of the Emperor's court, in the shadow of a battle not yet fought.

The visions had become so vivid that they haunted him, each one more real than the last. It was as if she were calling out to him, from a time long past, from a place hidden beneath the sands.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The day Paul Atreides found the secret room was an accident. He had wandered the halls of the grand Atreides stronghold, as he often did when lost in thought. His steps echoed off the cold stone walls, and the flickering lights from the chandeliers cast their soft glow across the polished floors. It was in this quiet solitude that he stumbled upon the door. It was hidden behind a tapestry, an old relic that seemed out of place, yet remarkably well preserved.

He pulled aside the fabric, revealing a narrow passage. The air was thick with dust, as if the door had not been opened in centuries. Without thinking, Paul stepped inside.

The room beyond was a stark contrast to the rest of the castle. It was smaller, and its walls were lined with shelves filled with ancient texts, cryptic diagrams, and machinery that seemed impossibly advanced for the time. But there, in the center of the room, was something that caught his attention.

A pod. It was sleek, metallic, and humming with an energy that felt...familiar. As Paul approached, his breath caught in his throat. Inside the pod was a woman, beautiful, serene, yet impossibly still. Her skin was pale, almost ethereal, and her eyes, those blue eyes, were closed, as if she were merely sleeping.

The moment Paul’s fingers grazed the surface of the pod, her eyes snapped open. She stared at him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

“You...” she whispered, her voice a blend of wonder and recognition.

“Who are you?” Paul managed to ask, his heart pounding in his chest. He had known, somehow, that this was the woman from his visions.

“I am Y/N,” she said softly, her gaze never leaving his. “And you…you are Paul Atreides, the one who will lead us into the future.”

Paul’s mind raced. How did she know him? How had she been hidden away for so long? He had so many questions, but the answers seemed to elude him.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

Unbeknownst to Paul, his father, Duke Leto, had known of Y/N’s existence for many years. In fact, it had been the Duke who knew about this generational secret that his family holds, far from the prying eyes of the galaxy and the political machinations of the Imperium. The truth was that Y/N was more than just a person. She was a being caught between humanity and the machines of the past. A living testament to the forbidden thinking machines, who had been altered and preserved as a weapon, a safeguard for the Atreides legacy.

Paul’s discovery of Y/N did not come without consequence. His visions had led him to her, but the Bene Gesserit, who had their own plans for Paul’s destiny, had long known about Y/N as well. They understood her significance; she was the key to breeding the Chosen One, the one who could wield the powers of the Kwisatz Haderach. But what the Bene Gesserit did not anticipate was the bond between Paul and Y/N, one that ran deeper than any political or genetic manipulation.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

“You’re...not just a woman,” Paul said, his voice breaking the silence between them. “You’re something else. Something...ancient.”

Y/N smiled faintly, her robotic blue eyes glinting with a knowing sadness. “I was meant to be a weapon, Paul. A part of a forgotten war. But I am human too, just like you. I’ve been waiting for you, for this moment. I knew you would come.”

Paul stepped closer, a mix of curiosity and awe tugging at his chest. “Why? Why wait all this time? What’s your purpose?”

Y/N's smile deepened, and she reached out, her hand hovering near his. “I am here to help you. To guide you. To stand by you. Together, we can change the course of history.”

A heavy silence fell between them, thick with the weight of their shared destiny. Paul reached out slowly, his hand brushing against hers. The contact sent a shock of warmth through him, a connection he couldn’t explain. And in that moment, all the confusion, the fear, the uncertainty seemed to melt away.

“I don’t know how,” Paul whispered, his eyes searching hers, “but I think I’ve been waiting for you too.”

Y/N’s gaze softened. “Then let’s face the future together.”

They stood there, their hands intertwined, as the weight of their fates settled upon them.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The Bene Gesserit, led by the determined and calculating Lady Jessica, were not pleased when they learned of Y/N’s existence. For years, they had sought to control the bloodlines, to ensure that the Kwisatz Haderach would be born according to their plan. But Y/N was a variable they had not accounted for a wild card in the grand scheme of things.

Jessica, ever the loyal servant to her Order, confronted Paul in the halls of the Atreides stronghold.

“You have to understand,” Jessica implored, her voice tense. “The Bene Gesserit have spent decades grooming you, Paul. You are the one they’ve chosen, the one they’ve trained. And yet, this...this machine is not part of the plan. She is a threat.”

“I don’t care about the plan anymore,” Paul said fiercely, his eyes blazing with a resolve that surprised even him. “I know who I am. I know what I’m meant to do. And Y/N...she’s a part of it.”

Jessica’s eyes narrowed, a hint of fear flashing in her gaze. “You don’t understand, Paul. The Bene Gesserit will stop at nothing to see their vision realized. If you side with her, you’ll bring war to us all.”

Paul’s heart wavered for only a moment. But when he thought of Y/N, of the way she had looked at him, the way they had connected, he knew he could not turn away. He would not.

“I’ve made my choice, Mother,” Paul said, his voice firm. “And I will not be swayed.”

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

As the conflict escalated and the sandstorms of war swept across Arrakis, Paul and Y/N stood together. In the quiet moments between battles, when the world seemed to hold its breath, they found solace in each other. Their love, born of destiny and choice, grew stronger with every passing day.

One night, as they stood beneath the star-streaked sky of Arrakis, Y/N turned to Paul, her robotic eyes shimmering in the moonlight.

“You’re afraid,” she said softly.

“I am,” Paul admitted, his voice low. “But not of the war. Of what I might become. Of the power I have to wield.”

Y/N stepped closer, her fingers brushing his jaw, a gentle touch that grounded him. “You are not alone, Paul. Together, we can face whatever comes. We can change the future, together.”

He pulled her into a kiss, soft and lingering, a promise of what they would build. As their lips met, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them, their love, their power, and the future they would shape.

In that moment, Paul knew that he had found something worth fighting for, not just the throne, not just power but something deeper, something eternal. And no matter what challenges lay ahead, he would face them with Y/N by his side.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The days stretched into weeks, and the conflict on Arrakis escalated as the Atreides’ struggle for control of the desert planet became all encompassing. The war raged on, against the Harkonnen, against the Emperor’s forces, against the very forces of fate itself. Yet, in the midst of it all, Paul and Y/N’s connection deepened.

Their secret moments were stolen between battles, hidden in the shadowed corners of the Atreides stronghold, or beneath the sprawling, endless skies of Arrakis. Despite the danger, despite the world crumbling around them, they clung to each other, finding solace in the love that had sprouted between them, unpredictable yet undeniable.

One such moment arrived after a particularly brutal confrontation with the Harkonnen forces. Paul had returned from the battlefield covered in dust and sweat, his face drawn with exhaustion. Y/N, ever the constant, found him as he entered his chambers, her presence like a steady flame in the darkened room.

Paul’s eyes softened when they met hers, and he exhaled deeply, releasing the weight of the day. His once clear blue eyes, now the same shade as hers, spoke volumes of the battles fought and those yet to come.

"You’ve been fighting all day," she said, her voice gentle, yet laced with concern. She stepped toward him, reaching up to touch his cheek, feeling the roughness of his stubble. "You need rest."

"I don’t know if I can," Paul replied, his voice distant, conflicted. "Every moment is a step toward the future, but I can’t see it clearly. There’s so much uncertainty...I see visions of us, of you but they are fragmented. Some of them...they frighten me."

Y/N’s gaze was unwavering as she stepped closer, her fingers softly tracing the curve of his jaw. "I am not afraid of the future, Paul. And neither should you be. We’ve waited for this moment, for this bond to come together. We can walk through it, side by side."

Paul inhaled deeply, absorbing her words. The soothing calmness she radiated began to settle his thoughts, grounding him as only she could. She was the anchor in the storm that was his destiny. He could no longer deny it.

"Stay with me," Paul whispered. "Help me make sense of all of this. You’ve been a part of the plan since the beginning. But I’ve changed. I’ve seen the possibilities of the future. I know I am meant for something greater than I can fully grasp. And maybe...you are too."

Y/N’s smile was soft, warm with affection. "I am no longer just a weapon, Paul. I was shaped for a purpose, yes, but now I am a part of something more. With you, I can feel it. Our bond is not one of politics or control. It is one of love, of choice. I choose you, Paul. I have always chosen you."

He looked at her, his expression softening into something tender and vulnerable. He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm, feeling the warmth of her skin against his. "Then I choose you, Y/N. We face this together. We will rewrite the future."

And as they stood together in the quiet of the night, the sounds of war distant yet ever present, they shared a moment of peace. Paul kissed her then, a kiss that spoke of promises made, of destinies intertwined. It was a kiss full of longing and hope, a silent vow to never let go, no matter the challenges ahead.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The Bene Gesserit had been watching. They knew Paul was growing increasingly unpredictable, his visions, his growing bond with Y/N, all of it had stirred something in the fabric of their plans. Jessica had felt the tension for months, but now, with each passing day, it became clear that Paul’s path would not align with their carefully laid designs.

One evening, Lady Jessica arrived in Paul’s chambers. The air was thick with tension as she met her son’s gaze. “Paul, we need to talk,” she began, her voice calm, but there was an undeniable urgency in it.

“I know what you’re going to say, Mother,” Paul said, his voice heavy with resignation. “You want me to turn away from Y/N. But I won’t. She is part of me now.”

Jessica’s eyes flashed with frustration. “She is a dangerous variable, Paul. The Bene Gesserit have been tracking her for decades. She was not meant to be part of your story.”

“Maybe it wasn’t meant to be anyone’s story but ours,” Paul replied, his voice unwavering. He glanced over his shoulder, catching Y/N’s eye. She stood just behind him, watching with quiet strength. “You don’t understand what she means to me. I’ve seen it, Mother. Our future together is more than just a bloodline. It’s about love. It’s about choice.”

Jessica’s gaze flickered to Y/N, the woman who had long been a mystery to her, whose presence now threatened the balance of power that the Bene Gesserit had worked so hard to maintain. “You think love is enough to change everything?” she asked, a sharp edge to her words. “You think that will stop the Bene Gesserit from ensuring their plans come to fruition?”

Y/N stepped forward then, her voice steady as she met Jessica’s gaze. “I don’t care about the Bene Gesserit’s plans. I care about him,” she said softly, her hand resting on Paul’s shoulder. “And he cares about me. The future is not set in stone, Jessica. We can make our own destiny.”

Paul nodded firmly, his hand covering Y/N’s in silent support. "She is right. We make our own fate, and we’ll face the consequences together."

Jessica’s eyes softened, but there was still a trace of doubt. "I never wanted this for you, Paul. I never wanted you to be caught in the middle of their games."

Paul met her gaze with newfound strength. "You’ve taught me to trust in my own power, Mother. And I will. With Y/N by my side, I will forge a new path for Arrakis, for our family, and for the future."

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The rebellion against the Harkonnen forces reached its peak as the Atreides rallied their allies, with Paul and Y/N leading the charge. They stood side by side, not just as rulers, but as partners in every sense of the word.

The desert winds whipped around them as they stood atop a dune, gazing out at the battle unfolding below. Sandstreaked warriors fought with determination, their cries lost in the chaos of war.

"Are you ready?" Paul asked quietly, his gaze never leaving the horizon.

Y/N turned to him, her eyes gleaming with fierce resolve. "I’ve been ready for this moment for centuries."

And as the battle raged, their hands found each other once again, strong, steady, bound by something deeper than any political alliance or royal bloodline. They were united, not just by destiny, but by love and choice. Together, they would change the course of history.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The dust of war settled in the wake of the battle, and though the future remained uncertain, one thing was clear: Paul and Y/N had carved their own path. A path that led to the throne, yes, but more importantly, a path that led them to each other.

As the sun set on Arrakis, casting a golden light across the desert sands, Paul and Y/N stood together, looking out at the world they would shape.

"We will face everything that comes, together," Paul whispered, his lips brushing her ear.

Y/N smiled, her eyes shining with the certainty of their shared future. "Together, Paul. Always."

And as the winds of destiny swirled around them, they knew that no matter the trials ahead, they were stronger than the sum of their parts. The love between them would change the universe one choice at a time.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The days following the victory over the Harkonnen and the fall of the Emperor’s forces were filled with the quiet hum of change. The Atreides now stood as rulers of Arrakis, the planet once lost in the sands of time, now the heart of a new future. The desert winds, ever constant, whispered of the shifting tides of power, but beneath it all, a new dynasty was being born.

Paul Atreides sat upon the throne in the grand hall of the Atreides stronghold, his blue eyes reflecting the weight of leadership. But beside him, always beside him, stood Y/N. His equal. His partner. The one who had walked through the fires of destiny with him, not just as a symbol, but as the very core of his strength.

Their love had altered the very fabric of the universe. No longer merely a woman of mystery or a weapon of the past, Y/N had become something more, an integral part of the new world they had forged. Together, they had defied the expectations of those who had sought to control their fates. And together, they had emerged victorious.

The Bene Gesserit had retreated into the shadows, their plans thwarted, but the fear and control they once wielded had no place in Paul and Y/N's new vision for the future. The choices they had made were their own, and the consequences, while great, would not deter them. They had rewritten history.

In the halls of the stronghold, as night fell across the vast expanse of Arrakis, Paul and Y/N shared a rare moment of peace. They stood on the balcony, the dim orange glow of the setting sun casting long shadows over the endless desert, now a symbol of their rebirth.

Paul’s fingers traced the curve of Y/N’s hand, their palms pressed together. "Do you ever wonder, after everything we’ve been through, what the future will hold?" he asked softly, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken questions.

Y/N’s gaze lingered on the horizon, her blue eyes reflecting the twilight, the endless sands stretching before them. "I do," she replied, a smile tugging at her lips. "But not in the way I used to. I used to fear it. The unknown. The path laid before us, and the one that others expected us to follow."

Paul turned to her, his brow furrowing slightly. "And now?"

"Now," she said, her voice steady, "now I believe in the future we’ll create. A future we shape with every decision we make, with every choice we embrace together."

Her words carried weight, a promise not just to the empire they ruled, but to each other. They had been to the edge of the abyss, had touched the core of their destinies and come out stronger. Their bond, forged in the fires of war, was unbreakable. They were not just rulers, they were a symbol of what could be achieved when love and fate intertwined.

As they stood in silence, the stars began to appear above them, shining brightly in the night sky. It was a beautiful sight, the same stars that had guided their ancestors, that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires. But tonight, they were witness to something new. A new beginning.

"Together," Paul whispered, as if affirming to himself the weight of his words. "We’ll face whatever comes, side by side."

Y/N’s smile deepened as she turned to him, her hand resting over his heart. "Together," she echoed.

The universe may have shifted, but in that moment, with the stars above them and the vast desert stretching before them, Paul and Y/N knew they had already won the greatest battle of all, not for power, not for control, but for their love, for their shared vision of the future.

And as the winds of Arrakis continued to blow, carrying whispers of a new era, the world below them stirred with the promise of change. A new era of peace. A new era of unity. A new era of hope.

And they would rule it together, not as mere monarchs, but as something far greater. A force unstoppable, for the power of their love could conquer even the harshest desert winds.

As the first night of their reign fell, Paul and Y/N stood together on the balcony, hand in hand, looking out at the world they had conquered and the future they would build.

The sands of time had shifted. And the dawn of a new era had begun.

Together. Always.

#paul atreides x reader #paul atreides #paulatreides #dune #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee chalamet #x reader #y/n #paul atreides x you #paul atreides prompt #paul atreides imagines #dune fanfiction #dune fic #dune imagine

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