#paul atreides x chani

[thevampiremarie]

THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani)

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

PART I: JESSICA

Lady Jessica focused her intent gaze on the Reverend-Mother’s... gift. This gaze, to which the minutiae of observation was second nature rather than practiced pretense, followed the lines of the girl-child’s high cheekbones up towards large eyes that appeared to overwhelm the face they were set in.

She’d seen that look in those eyes before. Perhaps a thousand times over, a million times over. Reflected in the mirror back at her on Wallach IX, reflected in the shadowed eyes of the girls she barely remembered. The girls that one by one fell, until amongst a hundred girls there stood five Bene Gesserit.

Jessica’s skirt rustled against the floor as she stalked closer, circling the child, examining every angle.

How interesting.

Such control in the child’s bearing, belied by such fear.

Paul had always been fascinated with off-world animals in the filmbooks; the agrarian creatures that inhabited Caladan for over twenty generations bore no thrill to her clever son. Jessica had never understood his fascination as the filmbooks rendered such organisms dead to her. Mere simulacrums of life with soulless eyes.

Perhaps one such simulacrum stood before her now in the form of a human girl. “Reverend-Mother, does she have a name?”

“We call her Chryse. However, if that name does not suit you, Jessica, you may name her as you wish. It is of no consequence to us.” Reverend-Mother Mohiam’s demeanor certainly hadn’t changed in the slightest from the days when she served her overtly. When Gaius Helen Mohiam spoke, everything from her inscrutable countenance to the even tones of her voice commanded subservience. “You will not harm nor bring harm to the girl-child. It is our one order.”

Jessica watched as Mohiam brushed her fingers against Chryse’s jaw to tilt her still face up towards the sallow light of the glow-globe. Not even a muscle twitched in her smooth facade. Jessica wondered what sort of chaos lay beneath, whether the girl would be like the jagged rocks under the beckoning surface of Caladan’s oceans. Only a fool would dive into the dark water blindly.

There was no other option but to acquiesce. “You have my word. She shall not come to harm under my care or the care of House Atreides.”

“Good.” A look passed between them, lasting only a second. Within that second lay an eternity.

The Reverend-Mother strode from the room with an economical gait, not sparing another iota of energy to look back.

Jessica knew then the precise nature of this “present”.

How many men had failed in the making of the Kwisatz Haderach? How many years, decades, centuries had her sisters carefully tended the most sacred plant, a mind that could bridge space and time. If Paul failed -

She stopped that fearful thought in its tracks, held it in the cradle of her mind’s eye, then let it pass through.

The Bene Gesserit were patient like mountains were patient. Time was an endless resource. It was better to cultivate many plants of good stock than to nurture a small garden and watch as its leaves shrivel and diel. Chryse was not and could never be the Kwisatz Haderach. Perhaps that fact ought to have assuaged Jessica’s fear. Yet - if Paul should die while he was only eleven, the House of Atreides forever extinguished, the child seemed poised to become the next vessel to carry the bloodline of the Kwisatz Haderach. Only ten years old, and she had mastered the prana-bindu like an adept three times her age. Who knew what sort of terror she had been bred to create?

Her son had already shown promise even without her training. Paul might flourish, grow into a man, grow into the mind that the universe needed. That would never come to pass if Chryse supplanted him.

Mohiam must have felt some minute degree of affection towards Jessica. If she hadn’t, the Reverend-Mother would not have left the girl in her care. The blade was double-edged; the Bene Gesserit cared not for which of the two survived, only that one of them did. Motherhood had softened Jessica to the point where she felt some empathy for her poor charge. Not enough empathy to entirely stay her hand, but enough that she wanted the girl to live. Enough that she intended to lift the burden of killing her from Paul’s narrow shoulders.

“Come here, girl.” Once she was close enough that the Bene Gesserit-trained woman could stretch out a single, finely-boned hand and press her fingers to the weapon’s temple, she bade her stop.

Jessica brushed her mind carefully up against Chryse’s, wary of the mind traps the girl had surely been taught from birth.

There were no traps. Not even a token protest.

Chryse had fewer defenses than a newborn infant. Her mind was splayed out in the open; even the slightest whisper of Voice guaranteed complete obedience. The Bene Gesserit had truly forged a weapon of a girl. She hadn’t a psyche of her own - where there should lay a personality was instead filled with iron bars of mind conditioning. Jessica’s heart ached for her. No child deserved to live like that.

A moment passed wherein she further plumbed the depths of her mind. Jessica knew then that Chryse could never use a Voice of her own. The same breeding that had left her mind wide open had left her unable to Speak. But of what use to the lineage of the Kwisatz Haderach was a girl entirely unable to use the Voice and critically susceptible to it?

The vision came on suddenly, as the waves did against the shores of Caladan. A figure whirled amongst dozens of men as they fell to their knees. The lady knew those movements by heart even though they felt wrong. It was the Weirding Way, without a doubt. At the same time, every action was utterly alien. Chryse moved through the battlefield like a valkyrie of old with hands that created ruination with every twitch. Her deficit of Voice was more than made up by her complete mastery over the physical realities of others. Lungs collapsed inwards; hearts refused to beat; nerves froze. Blood. Oceans of blood.

Without meaning to, her fingers fell away from the girl’s temple in astonishment and the vision dissipated like morning mist.

The Kwisatz Mother had bred an abomination.

The laws of nature should have forbidden such a being from coming into existence. No doubt, she wouldn’t have without the careful guidance of the Bene Gesserit. What infinite combination of genes could produce a person who could bend human bodies to their will? A weapon to be wielded against the very molecules of anatomy? Chryse had quite a bit further to go before she would become the war goddess Jessica saw in her vision, but her raw talent remained a cudgel poised over Paul’s head and ready to end his life.

This was an unacceptable outcome.

Forgive me, Jessica thought; forgive me for what I must do. “You will never harm Paul Atreides. You will never allow harm to come to Paul Atreides. You will always remain loyal to him and never betray him in the slightest. You will lay down your life for him.” She swallowed down her guilt as she watched her Voice take root in the blank shell of the young girl’s mind. That Chryse was now freed from Bene Gesserit absolute control was a small consolation for the crime done against her. For Paul to live, this girl must be subjugated.

Her wide, dark eyes blinked. There it was - a tiny spark of life in her young, solemn face. Chryse was just a girl. A young one, at that. Innocent. Guilt ensnared Jessica’s heart and held it in a chokehold. The sisterhood had not completely uprooted her weak personality, but there was no doubt that their conditioning program left permanent scars. Jessica’s Voice would not have affected Chryse nearly as much without it.

The lady resolved always to be tender to the girl. At a minimum, she could improve the quality of Chryse’s life. Jessica told herself this as she called for servants to take the girl, bathe her, dress her, and prepare a chamber for her near Paul’s. Was it so selfish of her to want her son to live? At any cost? Paul’s new companion would always be treated well and never punished. There were worse fates. For the Kwisatz Haderach, the Bene Gesserit could commit any number of sins.

But Jessica knew her mind and herself. This was a blood debt that she could never repay.

Paul would be safe, and the girl’s powers would never be used against him. That would be her consolation.

-

Her palms smoothed over the muscled plains of Leto’s back. The Duke was her husband in all but name, and Jessica reveled in how he relaxed at her touch. At the school on Wallach IX, she’d learned everything but the warmth of trust and partnership built from deep, mutual love. There was no room in the lives of the Bene Gesserit for any kind of love besides the love of the sisterhood. It was this trust and love that had led Jessica to birth Leto a male heir instead of the daughters she’d been commanded to produce.

Leto reluctantly pulled himself away from her to pick through some papers strewn across his desk. “What’s this I hear about a new handmaiden joining our household?” 

Involuntarily, Jessica inhaled. “Ah, my new charge. Chryse. An orphan, Bene Gesserit trained but not suited to the task. Reverend-Mother Mohiam, the Imperial truth-sayer, has entrusted her safety to me.” She kept her hands out of Leto’s line of sight so he couldn’t see the tension in her white knuckles. Ever so slowly, the lady exhaled. Again, guilt. The guilt threatened to consume her whole.

Her husband had always been far too intuitive for his own good. “She is young.” Sometimes a conversation with him was like playing chess. Every word, every tone, every movement playing off those of the other. Jessica enjoyed such a conversation far more when the stakes were not nearly as high. Perhaps he knew even subconsciously what she felt, what she had done.

Jessica let the silence in the air hang.

Leto sat at his desk, his brown eyes never leaving her smooth face.

She conceded first. “It will be some time before the girl will serve as my handmaiden in truth, but is she not of an age with Paul?” Not quite a lie, not quite a truth. A certainty presented as a question even though she had already decided the answer.

With no other child from her in sight and no political marriage alliance contracted to provide others, her son remained at the forefront of his father’s concerns. “Paul must keep his attention turned towards his lessons. I trust you, Jessica. He cannot be distracted.” Leto was known to others as inscrutable and honorable. She could read every emotion that flickered across his handsome face. He was worried; that much was plain. He was worried about what the legacy he’d built and the enemies he made might do to his kind son. His only son.

Even though he would never know it, the solution to his worries was close at hand. “My love, every child needs a companion. There are no children of an age with Paul on Caladan and certainly none suitable for his station. I’ve seen his loneliness. I know you have too.” The truth in her words was undeniable. Only eleven years old, and Paul had never known a friend his age on Caladan. He glued himself to his filmbooks and the stories of Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck. Leto cared for more than just raising an heir. Jessica knew he loved Paul. He worried about his well-being. Her husband would grant her this wish. Check.

“What better place for a friend than a girl in his mother’s service? They won’t have to be parted for quite some time. And there is no better judge of caliber than the Bene Gesserit.”

His resigned sigh echoed in the quiet of his study. Checkmate. “You’re right.” Leto’s footsteps as he got up and drew closer to her were a comforting rhythm. She knew that rhythm by heart.

“I do tend to be.” The impulse to feel the rhythm of his pulse beneath her hands overtook her, and she let it. Jessica reached out to press herself to him. Her Duke responded in kind as he gently drew her arms around his neck and brushed his forehead against hers.

It was more than enough sometimes to breathe in the same air as her beloved. To know that she shared space, time, and life with him.

Leto pressed a kiss to her mouth. Without any further words, he left the room.

Her fingers pressed against her closed eyes as if to alleviate the burden she’d taken upon herself. All of this would be justified in the end. Jessica had to keep faith in that.

Reposting this unfinished dune fic i started during the 1st movie and orphaned on ao3! Seems as if there's interest. LMK if you want on the tag list.

[bluntblade]

Pouring over Paul and Chani's early scenes together like "looks like there's more heartbreak underneath the heartbreak", and now thinking about when Chani gets Paul to talk about Caladan. I don't know if she's even imagining that she'll ever get to see beyond Arrakis or if she really wants to ever leave it, but there's the wonder under that crooked little grin. Paul gives her a little bit more of a sense of just what the Fremen might be able to accomplish, and he does so while he's still very much just Paul Usul Mua'dib.

But come the end of the film, the Fremen are setting out into the stars not to witness any of that wonder, but to destroy the opponents of the Kwizatz Haderach.

[murphycooper]

“i want you to know, i will love you as long as i breathe.”

dune part ii / ojibwa / waiting for this story to end before i begin another, jan heller lev

[thedeadtravelfast]

this is the plot right?

[the-gom-jabbar]

The whole genetics project of the Bene Gesserit may have been dubbed a failure because Paul wasn't a girl but there was nothing stopping Paul and Feyd-Ruatha acting on that sexual tension they had in both book and film.

Paul could have taken Feyd as a third Consort. Just imagine Paul with his Empress Irulan and his wife Chani sitting at his side and Feyd just sprawled on the dais steps just wearing something scandalous like

You were right Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, wasted potential.

[asshatproductions]

Can’t stop thinking about that moment in Dune 2 where Chani is trying to show him the proper way to sand walk and Paul’s sheltered-space-catholic-white ass immediately goes “according to my research 🤓☝️” like boy if you don’t-

[bpdlottiematthews]

Dune Part Two (2024), dir. Denis Villeneuve

[artemistics]

Paul swallowed. The figure in front of him turned into the moon's path and he saw an elfin face, black pits of eyes. The familiarity of that face, the features out of numberless visions in his earliest prescience, shocked Paul to stillness. He remembered the angry bravado with which he had once described this face-from-a-dream, telling the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam: "I will meet her." And here was the face, but in no meeting he had ever dreamed.

[beautyinsteadofashes]

I've seen a lot of people (mostly men if that's a factor) focus on how Chani was heart broken by Paul choosing Irulan. Am I the only one that thinks she's mostly upset that he's lost himself, is embracing/using the prophecy and waging war? She definitely cries as she summons the worm and is quiet and alone but in the room she's angry and staunch and doesn't bow to him. Their conversation about him not wanting to lose himself or lose her before they left for the South felt very important. Maybe I'm misinterpreting but I definitely felt like it was more nuanced and deeper than her just being his love interest. I think Zendaya and Denis made some really cool and powerful changes to her character.

[galactic-rhea]

No, she wouldn't, Paul.

Guys, I watched Dune Part 2

[moonlit-knightz]

finally! we get a 4k image of this iconic gay asf scene! 🤭

[thevampiremarie]

THE KNIFE OF MUAD'DIB (Paul x OC!Reader x Chani)

Wherein na-Duke Paul Atreides is not the Bene Gesserit's only prospect for the Kwisatz Haderach. Raised by Paul's side as his playmate and servant, Chryse, the Bene Gesserit's cuckoo child, will forge a new future for her master.

(previously posted on AO3 as Themis)

PART II: PAUL

He pressed play on the filmbook viewer again. Before Paul’s eyes, the swamps of Ecaz came back to life, the projected mist swirling through his room so thick he could barely see his hand through it. The boy could almost taste the sweet moss and rich earth on his tongue if he breathed in.

What would it be like, to wander those marshes and see the fogwood bend to his thoughts? To watch weavers knot krimskell rope with their practiced, scarred hands?

Paul swallowed thickly. He’d never be allowed to go off-world until he was older. He passed his hand through the fog again and pretended he could feel beads of water gathering on his palm.

Father had started him that day on his lessons with Hawat. He remembered the weight of the Duke’s hand on his shoulder as his father brought Paul to the study chamber where the old Mentat waited. Before he could turn and ask his father to stay, he was gone. Not even the Duke had time enough now for his heir.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Paul felt ashamed of himself. Father had enough on his plate. What sort of son did he make, gathering resentment? A poor one.

The filmbook switched to the glittering gems that miners could find on Hagal. He sagged back into his chair and watched the images flicker on his wall.

Mother liked to smooth his hair back with a single palm and say in that still-water calm tone of hers that he would be greater than his father someday. Paul brought his knees up to his chin. The lonely dunes of Arrakis replaced the scenes of shining jewels trundling from the depths of Hagal mines.

No one could be greater than Father.

He’d watched the Duke turn down the dimly-lit hallway before the Mentat retainer rapped the table with his wizened knuckles to call his attention.

Thufir Hawat was pleased as always to see him, if a bit gruff in his mannerisms.

He’d set Paul to a variety of tasks that were difficult, at best. Thinking that felt like admitting defeat.

How was he supposed to be the heir to House Atreides when he couldn’t even memorize the endless formulas and calculations Hawat laid out in front of him?

Mother always told Paul he was good at remembering and liked to play games with him over breakfast. What had changed in their dining room that day?

She had endless patience and endless persistence. Thufir had comparatively less of the former and about the same amount of the latter.

He bit back the urge to throw the cup next to him filled with day-old tea at the wall.

Day in, day out. Filmbooks, lessons, meals with Mother.

Even if Paul wanted to leave the compound to explore the same pastures and beaches he’d wandered a hundred times over as a little boy, the chafing security team his father insisted upon would have followed him around.

He wasn’t a little boy anymore. Paul was too old to play around in the sand like a baby.

Last week, he’d pestered Duncan to start his combat training. “I know you think you’re old enough,” the swordmaster had said. “But you’ll have to wait a little longer, Paul.”

It wasn’t fair.

Paul unfolded his lanky frame from the chair to carelessly pick through the steel toy figurines of an Atreides legion on his side-table, now arranged in a battle against a battalion of porcelain Imperial Sardaukar.

The Sardaukar, crouched behind their defense of a stack of filmbooks, were losing.

He could imagine how glorious the battle would be!  Paul Atreides with Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck by his side, victorious, a field of felled enemies before him-

With a random twitch of his hand, he accidentally swept the Atreides soldiers onto the floor.

Paul despised his occasional clumsiness.

The boy bit back a sigh as he bent to collect the fallen figures.

He studied one of the toy soldiers, the battle lance in its hand and the shield on its wrist. Perhaps he ought to steal a shield from the training room. The weapons were kept separately, locked up where only the swordmasters could get them, but the swordmasters kept the shields in locked cabinets. If Paul could show Duncan he knew how to use a shield-

A conspiratorial smile came to his face. With a shield, Duncan would have no good reason not to begin his combat training. The Ginaz swordsman might even cheer him on for his ingenuity.

With that pllan in mind, the young boy turned off the filmbook viewer and slipped out of his chamber, careful not to make a sound as he padded along the gray stone hallways towards the closest training room. The cupboard that housed the shields was only loosely padlocked; shields were hardly the most dangerous things in this wing of the manor.

There was no key to be had nearby. Not that Paul expected one - it wouldn’t be nearly as impressive if he’d simply unlocked the cupboard with little fanfare.

Mother liked to repeat odd little sayings to him with an expression on her face that told Paul he really ought to understand them more than he did. He figured it was some sort of weird Bene Gesserit thing. Sometimes the sayings stuck; other times, they didn’t. “My mind controls my reality.”

He’d come to resent that one. It’s not like if he thought hard enough, Father would see him more often, Duncan would start his combat training, and Thufir’s games would come easier.

The padlock was standard, with knobs and buttons that had to be arranged in precisely the correct pattern and order for it to open. Each time it closed, the pattern and order would change.

Paul had opened these dozens of times if he thought about it.

In his hands, the lock came apart quickly. The remnants were put to the side softly so no servant walking past could hear him rummaging in the cabinet.

Some of the wrist units were dusty, old things probably made in the year he was born. The new shield units were… there!

He reached out and grabbed one that looked like it might fit.

Paul was far too intent on measuring his prize to his wrist to hear the barely-there sounds Duncan made as he snuck up on the boy.

“Paul.”

The swordmaster’s voice, low and rumbly, scared him. Paul tried to hide his instinctive twitch, but from the self-satisfied look on Duncan’s face, he hadn’t succeeded.

Oh no. The shield. The Atreides retainer had already seen it in his hand. He tightened his grip on it and tried to square his shoulders to look Duncan straight in the eye. Much to his dismay, Paul had to tilt his gaze up.

His voice sounded tinny and high in response. “I got it, didn’t I?”

“I’m impressed. You did.” The older man made no move to take the shield from the boy’s death grip. Duncan looked at him sternly for one long moment. A fond chuckle followed, and he reached out to ruffle Paul’s hair. Paul hated it when he did that but could never duck out of the way fast enough. “And you thought stealing this would be a good idea… why?”

He set his jaw and tried for some of Father’s severity and larger-than-life presence. “I know how to use the shield. I’ve got one. You needn’t worry about my safety now, and you have to teach me how to fight.”

One of the man’s scarred eyebrows raised. “Do I?”

“You do!” Why wasn’t Duncan taking him seriously? “I order it.”

“Young master, when you can look me in the eyes without looking up, and your voice drops lower; I’ll consider following your orders. In the meantime, I only follow the orders of your father, the Duke.” The good-natured tone in his gruff voice did little to mitigate the sting of his words.

Paul slammed the shield down on the empty weapons table in frustration. “It’s not fair. I’m not a little boy anymore. And- and if you don’t teach me to fight now, when will I learn? How long do I have to wait?” No, it wasn’t enough for the swordmaster to chastise him like he was a baby. Of course, Duncan had to just stand there and not say anything back to him at all. The lack of response made the boy feel infinitely worse.

“For my father, the Duke, to decide I’m ready? He doesn’t- he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t even see me every day.” Paul’s words hung heavy in the air between them, and he knew instantly that he’d made a mistake.

He’d gone too far to back down now.

The warrior broached the distance between them in two long strides.

His large, scarred hand clasped Paul’s jaw in a tight grip, forcing the boy to look up at Duncan’s face instead of staring, shamefaced, at his bare feet.

“You’re a good kid, Paul, so I’ll say this once, and we’ll be done with it. Duke Leto Atreides, your father, is the best man I have ever known. Everything he does, he does for the prosperity of House Atreides. For your prosperity.” Unbidden, tears began to form in the boy’s eyes. He did his best to will them to stop.

“You don’t know anything about what your father, my lord, has done. What he’s sacrificed.”

Even in Duncan’s grasp, Paul kept his jaw tight and shoulders back. His pride wouldn’t allow him to do anything else.

“The Duke may be too busy fending off the Harkonnens to chastise you properly, but I’m not. I’ve allowed you to be a little shit right now in my training room. Do not expect me to permit this behavior going forward.” His tutor let go of him suddenly, and the boy staggered back. “You will sit your studies. You will behave. You will learn how to fight when we deem you ready to learn. Above all, you will not disrespect your father like that again.”

Resentment bloomed in Paul’s chest, hot and heady. He tamped down on it with the control Mother taught him. “I understand.” The bitterness was replaced by painful embarrassment. How immature must he have seemed to the great Duncan Idaho, lashing out like the baby he professed not to be?

Father… Shame coated his throat. His father was out there somewhere in the Imperium, risking his life fighting Harkonnens, and Paul was here in his mother’s wing, throwing tantrums.

The swordmaster’s bearing softened slightly at the sight of Paul’s embarrassment and shame, scrawled plainly across his charge’s face. “I get it. I understand what you’re feeling.” Duncan clapped him on the back. “You’re the heir. One day I’ll serve you. Better you get that outburst out of your system now than let your father see any of it.”

The floor suddenly became very interesting.

He tucked his chin to avoid the older man’s regard.

“I don’t reward bad behavior. You know that. I am, however… impressed that you managed to get into one of the cabinets without the code.” Paul caught a glimpse of the shield in Duncan’s hand as he lifted his head.

He caught the shield band in one hand before he had even realized the man had tossed it at him.

“Get used to wearing that all the time, as we do. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out. We won’t be starting live edges. I will see you in this training room every day for practice on your sayaw forms. If you behave, we’ll spar with bokkens.” Elation ran through him. Paul had thought himself well and truly in trouble for a moment there.

Forms training every day was a far better outcome than nothing. He would make Duncan proud. And Father would be proud if Duncan gave him good reports on Paul’s progress.

The Ginaz swordmaster strode from the room. Before he exited, he stopped in the doorway. “Paul…” The boy could see no traces left of sternness left on his rugged, tanned face. “You’ll be alright, kid.”

Paul watched him go.

He thought of the filmbooks. Ecaz. Hagan. Arrakis. All the places he could go one day. Paul looked at the shield in his hand. He would do his best in the classroom with Thufir. He’d show Duncan that he deserved to fight with live edges. Resolution formed in the depths of his mind. Paul would surpass them all.

-

Mother had found him later that week in the same training room. Duncan left much earlier, while Paul elected to stay behind. Pattern after pattern, he whirled on the training mat, weaving around imaginary opponents. The sayaw forms were the foundation upon which the Atreides Eskrima rested.

His skinny limbs ached, and he could feel sweat trickling down his back under his loose tunic, but Paul kept going. Duncan had called the forms a type of dance. While he hated the dance lessons his mother kept him in, the rhythm of the sayaw forms was far more appealing.

A fight had the same beats as a live pulse, he’d found.

The new training regimen gave Paul something to do, a goal to work for. But when he wasn’t training with Duncan or struggling through Thufir’s mind games, the emptiness would creep back in.

Paul would watch filmbook after filmbook on the countless planets of the Imperium. Even anything with information of what lay beyond the Imperium. Anything but the hollowness of the Atreides manor.

Even the promise of live-edge dueling shortly did little to stave off the immense pressure Paul faced when he was alone with himself or the lingering fear that he would never live up to that pressure.

He attempted to take Duncan’s words about his father to heart. The bitterness that welled up inside Paul remained. The Duke deserved a better son, he thought. But he would have to make do with me.

When Mother came to him that afternoon, he could feel the tiniest bit of terror emanating from her serene countenance. Her face was calm as always - yet the slight razor-edge of her fear sent a chill down Paul’s spine. “Paul.”

“Mother,” the boy said, pulling out of his lowered stance to stand up straight, wiping his brow with the edge of his tunic.

She pressed her lips together. “Come. There is someone you must meet.” Without another word, his mother turned away from him sharply.

Curiosity and dread warred for dominance in Paul’s thoughts. His mother, Lady Jessica, was Bene Gesserit and fearless. What could frighten her?

Dutifully, he followed after her. Just as Duncan had taught him that week, he took extra care to make his steps as silent as possible.

The lady stopped abruptly in front of her presence-chamber. Paul could see his mother’s reluctance to enter, though she conquered that reluctance after a moment and pushed the door open. A slip of a girl sat on the bench by the far wall. Her face was blank and hollow under the light of the glowglobe. He thought she looked awfully skinny, even more so than him.

“Paul, this is Chryse. She will be joining our household as my new handmaiden, though she is still in training.”

The boy looked over Chryse once more. His mother rarely took on new handmaidens and always ones that came to her fully trained. Perhaps that knowledge should have put him on guard, but Paul somehow knew he had nothing to fear. The girl’s dark almond-shaped eyes, too large for her face, met his gaze.

He straightened up under her scrutiny. Paul wanted her to… be impressed. “Hello.” The boy tried for the deep resonance of his father’s voice but only sounded gravelly. He winced.

“Hello.” Someone else might have been daunted by the expression on Chryse’s face - like a frozen-over lake on Lankiveil. Lankiveil’s eternal winter was inconceivable to Paul. He’d only seen snow in the filmbooks.

Even around him, his mother’s own look never defrosted. The boy was used to it.

Lady Jessica stepped forward as if to come between them. “She will be joining you for some of your lessons. I’ve already spoken to Duncan. I hope you will come to regard her as a… companion.”

A new sparring partner! Well, that made the girl’s presence chafe less. Paul disliked his mother’s implication that he required a companion. He was doing just fine without one. Then an unexpected wave of giddiness swept away his dislike. Sparring with Duncan was unfairly one-sided. Paul enjoyed the thought that he could have an opponent against whom he might win. Maybe when she wasn’t attending to his mother or in lessons with him, Chryse would watch filmbooks with him. Paul could show her everything he knew. The girl might command his Sardaukar figurines while he fought her with his Atreides legions. He wasn’t entirely sure how girls acted typically, but his mother’s new handmaiden seemed like she’d be willing to play with him.

Thoughtlessly, he darted over to her and grabbed her hand. Paul dragged her with him as he skipped towards the door. Mother made an odd choked sound in her throat at the sight of the two of them, but he ignored her.

The girl stopped suddenly just before the doorway. He turned towards her and his mother. Why the delay? “Well, come on! You haven’t explored our wing much, have you?”

Chryse looked to his mother for a moment as if silently asking for permission. When she received a nod, the girl turned to look at him once more. “No, I haven’t.” Her voice quavered. To Paul, she sounded like she didn’t speak often. Weird.

“Let’s go!” His mother let them leave her chamber without any words in protest.

The younger girl’s hand was cold in his, but as her palm warmed, she began to match his tight grip.

 When Paul looked back to see if she was paying attention to him, he saw the slightest smile on her face directed at him.

Man tumblr was tweaking when I tried to post this the first time. I had three chapters of this story completed before I dropped it and I'm now writing the 4th. Thanks for reading!

Tagging: @redskull199987 @itsemy01 @blahzaiblahsheep @herebereblogs

[bluntblade]

Frank Herbert: what if Lawrence of Arabia in space

Denis Villeneuve: ah oui, but also, what if Lawrence and Prince Faisal banged

[all-inmoderation]

Paul, looking out in horror at the Harkonnens massacring Sietch Tabr, saying "I didn't see this coming" (I should've/could've seen this coming). Paul, having a vision of Chani dead in his arms. Paul, having a vision of a djinn Jamis telling him to drink the Water of Life so he can see the future. Paul, after months of being terrified of what the prophecy will do to him, willingly going into it so he can See. So he will be able to See the future and protect the people he loves. Paul, succumbing himself to monstrosity, in the end.

Paul, watching Chani walk away.

[wine4thewin]

Chani, anytime she hears someone refer to Paul Atreides as Lisan al Gaib or Mahdi:

Meanwhile, Lady Jessica & her psychic unborn baby hearing the same thing:

[controld3vil]

sand walking?

pairing(s): dune 2 cast x actor!reader (platonic!!)

synopsis: requested by this ask!

⤷ alt: how to seduce someone walking on sand.

notes: there hasn't been confirmed for dune 3 yet but denise villeneuve has said he's writing for it to happen. ill patiently wait for the day it's confirmed :) ALSO there are fictional/made-up mentions of the novel for the sake of the reader. they're made to be gender-neutral!! and this includes platonic flirting between cast members. i MAY have gotten carried lmaoo

“I mean- what do you think of the character? Do you think they deserved more screen time?” The clip starts off with you comfortably conversing with the interviewer. To say you weren’t deflecting their curiosity. In actuality, you were eager to learn what others thought about your performance and take on the character. The only other interpretation had on-screen was from the classic 1984 film by David Lynch.

The clip that has been widely retweeted back is of a cute moment you had from the first film of Dune (2021). Before release, little was known about your character’s potential. Apart from the enthusiastic book lovers, film viewers were clueless about what role your character would play after the first movie.

Denise Villeneuve didn’t reveal much to you in person. He wanted to keep ideas confidential until he was 100% on board making the project come to life. Still, rumors sparked through speculation and interviews with the cast members of Dune. Including an infamous short, that you forgot about, of yourself boasting about your hopes and wishes for your character.

“Yes! How could we not!” On the opposite side, the interviewer exclaimed as they leaned forward from their chair, closing into your proximity. Their hands clenched, tightening their grip on the flash card, full of questions. “The movie left us on such a cliffhanger. I think everyone would want to know what happened to Nerre,”

“That’s for Denise to decide,” Nodding you gave a relaxed smile while lifting one leg over the other. Your shoulders relaxed, feeling content and ecstatic about their response. “I can’t confirm anything until he gives me the green light to say anything,”

“I’ve also talked to Timothée this morning,” A shift in gears as the journalist flipped over another flashcard. You two had just fussed about the finale and its dramatic cliffhanger. “And all he had to say were the sweetest things about you,” At the mention of your costar compliments, you felt your skin heat up. Your eyes soften, expressing only fondness for the lovely message. A soft awh escaped your breath. “He’s very sweet. Timothee's always been fun to be around.” A fervent chuckle from the interviewer sends them into a feverish excitement. “And- he said- you had great flirting skills!” It was then your face morphed into complete shock and giddiness . “Really?!” The camera pans up on your initial reaction, eyes popping out in surprise and a bubbling laugh slowly erupting. “I’m glad someone appreciates my talents!”

Without context, the short clip seemed harmless. Your sheer reaction to Timothee's comment emphasized the fun chemistry the two of you had on set. Mirroring much of Paul and Nerre's friendship, you both complimented each other well in the first film, being the youngest surrounded by well-renowned actors. But the reason for the recent spike of interest was partially from Dune: Part Two and their interviews.

Fast forward to the debut of Dune: Part Two, it made success at the box office. Even surpassing the first film altogether. The entire cast of Dune was proud of the work they've made. The introduction of new characters played by wonderful actors and actresses all around.

Weeks after the early IMAX screenings, press interviews were being published amongst of the young cast members. A particular interview by IGV Presents brings together Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Florence Pugh, Austin Butler, and yourself.

This would be considered to be one of your first interviews with the Dune cast after the box office release. You felt nervous yet overjoyed at the same time to be meeting your co-actors again after the conclusion of filming had taken place.

The spokesperson of IGV, Simon Harkness starts off the interview strong with a pleasant greeting. "Congratulations on an incredible movie. Uhm it is the definition of a sci-fi blockbuster and is absolutely phenomenal, so huge congratulations to you all!"

"Thank you!" The five of you all politely cherish his kind words.

"It's so lovely to talk to you. Um- Timothee, Zendaya, I'm going to start with you. This is probably the hardest question I've ever asked in an interview so you've been warned." An endearing giggle can be seen from Zendaya before allowing him to continue. "Sand walking, who does it better?"

Timothee immediately lifts up his microphone. "I'm going to give it to Zendaya here." Without glancing at her, you could tell Zendaya was happily smiling at his compliments. How quick he was to answer made it seem how well connected the cast was even given the amount of time spent together. The main lead continues very swiftly, diving more into how cinematic the shot was from an outside perspective, "I think it's the most- one of the most cinematic shots in the movie and she really has it very precisely down but it's the nature of the movie too that she's supposed to be better than Paul,"

"Is that what it is?" In return, Zendaya who sat next to him gave him a teasing look.

Quietly from afar where you sat, next to Austin Butler, you whispered. "He acted like he couldn't do it but," Soft snickering can be heard across the room.

"In fairness to me, I was going 65%- 65 to 70 too hard," Chalamet reasons justly as he glances in your direction before looking back to the interviewer.

"You dumbed it down," Harkness nods in a high-spirited manner. Right after, Timothee reluctantly agrees, keeping the mood light-hearted.

"I had to!"

"Just how committed you are!" Austin steps in, joining in on the joke.

"Zendaya, you can take that crown. I love that," The brown-haired man reassures as she recuperates with appreciative laughter. In truth, it was a beautiful scene between Paul and Chani you were lucky enough to witness behind the camera. And contrary to their light banter, you thought both actors did well at accomplishing what it was meant sand walk. Truthfully you had no scenes beyond walking through the desert but understanding the mechanics and traditions of the Fremen was as fascinating as it was watching it up close.

Suddenly it was Florence's turn to speak, "Zendaya taught me the other day and I had to just stop to stare at her feet."

"The swoopy swoop?" You asked in a cutesy tone, with furrowed eyebrows. You couldn't help but remember the few instances you witnessed your costars practice the sand walk to be one of the more adorable rehearsals you've seen on the sand.

"Yeah, her feet were so pretty! She was doing the swoopy swoops," The blonde acknowledges, waving her hands in a zig-zag pattern. As the replication of water and how her feet moved.

The interviewer's eyes light up, "Honestly I tried to swoopy swoop at home- um because we have a carpet in the bedroom."

"How did it go?" The mixed actress puts forward.

"Awful!" An assembly of bewilderment is seen between Zendaya and Florence as they quickly question why. However, they reassure him in the end that they would practice together in hopes of him archiving the sand walk.

Talks with simple questions went down the row. Florence discusses her experience from her beginnings, starring in Little Women, comparing those scenes in terms of royalty to Dune. In both films, she's worked with well-known actors and now Christopher Walken as the emperor and her father. She raves about how it was a dream come true. A dream she had when she was little. From this experience, Florence emphasizes the concept of learning and observing her fellow actors.

Another intriguing topic follows Austin for his experience between learning choreography fighting and Elvis's iconic rubber legs. In a sense, as you leaned forward on one of your seats, you became fascinated by the Elvis actor's comparison of it all. While Elvis's moves were televised and had to be precise for the camera, being a Harkonnens gave him more leverage in the freedom to move. It was a captivating question that you couldn't help but want to listen to more.

Comparisons aside, you didn't have much to note for your upcoming question. Which is exactly why you felt unprepared for what he was going to ask.

Harkness brings up your name for the finale. "You have done stunt work before. For the first and now second film, I've heard you compared it to rather- dancing. Is that what you think your relationship with the choreography has been?"

You gave a content hum, "You see it with the Fremen or Harkonnens right? Everyone moves so differently and for the course for me, I've had to adjust my choreo little by little. And I think that analogy you mentioned really does relate back to dancing. I don't know if it's because I was once a dancer or that I'm a visual learner," You shrug your shoulders, "But I see the choreography as a dance routine. You're moving alongside people, doing hits and jabs. Both are very hands-on so I would like to approach it as something I can always work on." Satisfied with your answer, you clapped your hands together.

"Kind of like sand walking no?" It was then that Zendaya swerved counterclockwise to face you.

Bringing back the conversation they had in the beginning about sand walking, your eyes instantly brighten. "Exactly like that!"

"I feel like you would be great at sand walking," Florence puffs, mindlessly shaking her microphone back and forth. "You- You already got the moves." Even Timothee came into agreement, humming and commenting you worked well with the choreography.

Austin Butler raises his microphone. "I think you gotta learn with me because I don't think I could,"

"Nonsense!" You give him a silly glare. "If you can do a killer rubber leg, I think you can sand walk." Florence and Zendaya both mumble their support and your male costar leans to have his arm around the back of your chair, warmly.

"Is that an open invitation I see?" The spokesperson, Harkness giggly pokes at than the rest of the cast turns to look at you. Your scowl morphs into an innocent one.

"Hm?" As you squint your eyes in hesitation.

"I feel like you could have the potential to sand walk but just with the right partner," Timothee chimes in, spreading his arms over his chair as well. Your brows furrowed accusingly, as if wanting to clarify what he meant by his comment.

And the French actor gives you a look, one you became so sure of. "Mm right!" A slight eruption of laughs before you straightened your back with proper posture. "With just the right partner,"

There were also hints mentioned in your interview with Timothee surprisingly not. This was one of the more recent ones to be published, as you finally were able to pair up with your favorite co-star (besides Brolin) from the first film. The two of you had strong chemistry despite having less screen time together in the second film.

The beginning of the video cuts to a clip of you answering an innocent question. "What I think about every day, is Timothee going to send to me a meme today? Uh, I hope so!" You give a sarcastic look to your seat partner as he latently laughs in front of you. "Or when is he going to text me you know?"

It then transitions to an interviewer from Heart commercial radio as he shouts out your names. "How are you both?"

"I'm doing good!"

"Going great!"

The radio show was more relaxed than you would've expected as the spokesperson was very down to the earth with his conversation starters and contagious warmth. Timothee was able to catch up with him from his last interview when he premiered his Wonka film. Eventually, the interview became more casual discussing working together, cooking, and trendy topics.

Timothee and you both went back and forth on favorite memories you had of the first film. And talking about the new cast members and new elements it had brought to the table for the film itself.

"Cool new characters this time," As you played around with the fuzzy microphone the camera crew gave to you.

"Yup lots of new people to meet," Timothee adds on, nodding.

The interviewer proceeds with the question, "And also you have seen- there's a clip about of you running around actually." He signals to you, "Of your reaction to something Timothee said about your performance in the first film,"

"Oh! I've seen it," Almost instinctively, your co-star raises his hand. "I was supposed to send it to you but I forgot." As he turns, to finds you looking lost at the topic at hand.

"Really what was it?" You almost looked concerned, seeing how you didn't understand what they meant.

Luckily for you, the Heart radio spokesperson managed to get a hold of the video from his phone, "It was a little callback of Timothee raving about your flirting skills."

As it plays, the camera zooms in on you and your co-actors reaction. The French actor couldn't help but look slightly embarrassed but smitten when the timing of your reaction came on screen. While you held an intrigued stance, arms crossed and a content grin.

"I am pretty good at flirting,"

"You really are, huh." At the same time, you both turn to make eye contact.

"I also heard Tim- that you thought that they would be your love interest initially?" At the radio speaker's inquiry, you couldn't help but in mid-sentence, finally, swerve your head suddenly.

"Yeah well, fun fact actually," The male actor tries to reason, sitting up. "In the novels, Paul and Nerre almost did become a couple!"

It was a well-known fact of that in the first novel, there had been slight changes to the story. Initially, it was said that the author, Frank Herbert had planned for Paul and Nerre, the character you played to have a romantic connection after the fall of House Atreides. Nevertheless, it was later scrapped for another plot, that of instead having Chani as the love interest. But even decades later after the novel’s release, it was something fans still fuss about.

"Oh, I heard about that!" Almost in awe, you nodded, your attention fully on Chalamet, wondering how far he was willing to go beyond spoilers.

"Do you think Nerre would ever meet someone then?" The afro man questions, adjusting his microphone. "Since- Paul has Chani, I feel like if we ever get a potential third film, that could open some doors!"

"If a third film could happen," You start, fiddling with the lining of the mic cover, "I hope so! I mean I got the moves, I got the skills!"

"Keep practicing your sand walk and we'll see," Timothee cutely chimes as you proceed to blow a raspberry at him. Only for him to lightly swat you away.

Despite your failures to have scenes of sand walking, your cast of a crew were more than happy to show you. Javier Bardem and Jessica Ferguson were quite supportive in your interest for something you did not have any part-time. A few behind the scene videos show the actor demonstrating from afar the slower version of the walk.

Though your back was facing the camera, viewers would pick up and recognize it to be you. Jessica as well was off to the side, in her luminescent costume of a million robes, clapping from side to side.

Another later pans to you taking long strides across the sand in the background. In front of the camera are Josh Brolin and Javier having their turn in the video, to discuss their relationship and the previous they have worked on together. However, viewers couldn't help but pinpoint your figure alongside the frame trying to master the patterns of what Javier taught you from the previous clip.