Student of Dune (DarkAngel & Sync)

RE: Student of Dune

Two men waited in the shadows at the edge of a small side-market in the backstreets of Arrakeen. They were clad in the robes of the desert folk, their cloaks a pale fawn-brown, as the sand, their hoods pulled up and covering their faces from the harsh morning sun. Although the city was built up around the people of Arrakeen, the heat and the dust were constant companions; the shade and protection of the city’s walls, and the Shield Wall, did little to stop these constant companions of Arrakeen life.

The day was still young in Arrakeen. Stalls had opened in the backs of streets, shops had opened their doors, merchants were out spruiking their wares. The air was cool – comparably so, for an Arrakeen morning, and people were dressed accordingly. People milled about the makeshift market place, coins passed hands as goods or services were purchased and paid for. Even though the day was young, it was already warm, foretelling a hot day ahead; the gentle breeze that drifted through the streets made no difference to the heat of the air. The streets were covered in the dust of sand; it permeated everything, the air, the ground, clothing, sometimes even food and drink, in spite of the heavy filtering of the latter two.

The first man was, from his posture and movements, taller than the second, although not by much. The other, being the shorter – although still tall at just over six feet in height – was listening as the first spoke. The pair spoke in a tongue many around them did not understand, although most did tilt their heads to listen before shaking their heads in lack of understanding and moving on. Even so, the pair were recognised for what they were – Fremen, from the deep desert. The trappings and bearing said as much, as did the single blade each carried on their thigh. They were not for trifling with, these Fremen, and they were given some space even as they stayed in their place by the edge of the market – a desert Fremen would have no difficulty killing a dozen of the passers-by if he wished. For their part, the two men appeared to completely ignore the people moving around them as they conversed, although no-one would be so stupid to assume the pair were oblivious to, or unaware of, their surroundings.

~You must do this, Talgar,~ the taller Fremen was saying in the ancient Chakobsa tongue that had been preserved for these centuries by the Fremen people. ~This request came to us through the Naibs from the Reverend Mother Jessica herself. You are to take this girl-child into the desert and guard her life, guide her into adulthood.~

~I understand this task that is being placed upon me,~ Talgar replied softly. ~But understanding that I must do a task does not make it sit well on my shoulders. I am to protect and educate one of the descendants of the Mahdi, our Prophet, to keep her from harm, to keep her safe from those who would end the line of the Atreides.~

~That is correct, Tal,~ the taller Fremen replied. ~The Atreides have given we Fremen-~

~They have ruined our home, Ravis,~ Tal countered quickly. ~They took from us the old ways and forced upon us this new way which is killing us slowly even as we stand here and talk about it.~

Ravis nodded his head slowly. ~This new way will be difficult for us all,~ he acknowledged, quietly and patiently. ~There will be no person alive, now or yet to be, who will be untouched by this new way. We…are its vanguard.~

~I accept that I must perform this duty,~ Tal muttered under his breath. ~That does not mean I have to like it. This…changing of our ways began when the Mahdi took our finest warriors and waged war on the universe. My Grandfather, my father’s father, died in that jihad; so, too, did my mother’s mother.~

~Every Fremen lost someone in the Jihad,~ Ravis agreed. ~How you deal with it – how you deal with those who were not yet alive during it – will speak much of your character. The Jihad was not the fault of this girl-child.~

Tal didn’t respond to that; instead, he fell silent, wishing quietly that this girl-child – whose name he did not yet know, even – would hurry up and arrive. The sooner they met up, the sooner he could be back in the desert and on their way to Sietch Chondak, far to the south and west of Arrakeen.

"Arrakis... Dune... wasteland of the Empire, and the most valuable planet in the universe. Because it is here—and only here—where spice is found. The spice. Without it there is no commerce in the Empire, there is no civilization. Arrakis... Dune... home of the spice, greatest treasure in the universe. And he who controls it, controls our destiny."

And it is here where yet another chapter begins, but it is hardly where the saga ends. For the Golden Path of Leto II—Ghanima Atreides beloved twin brother—has only just begun to be forged as his body slowly merges in a way no one else's ever could with the great Shai-Hulud... the great sandworms of Dune...


"You shouldn't be sitting so close to the open balcony," came a stern, yet gentle voice.

Immediately, there was a faint sound of laughter, a tiny stifled giggle as Helene Atreides turned her head to gaze upon the smiling face of her mother, second born twin to the legendary Paul Muad'Dib Atreides. It wasn't often that she spent moments like this with the woman. But oh how she cherished them. During her younger years, she spent much of her time with Princess Irulan only she'd been sent away. Bitterness and anger lingered in those memories and she even refused to visit the gardens she once loved as a child. But she understood why the princess needed to leave.

Why she'd had to go.

Helene's thoughts flitted to Trebor and immediately Ghanima's eyes softened, knowing that her daughter was thinking about her oldest brother. The girl hadn't seen him in several years. She'd no doubt the separation had to be difficult. Her own heart lurched as she thought on her beloved Leto, while he roamed the desert—proud, feared, desert creature. For years they remained separated, only meeting at night when all was hushed and silent over the deserts of Arakkis. Their time was always short and had grown shorter with every passing day.

Golden red tresses fell languidly along slender shoulders as Helene locked eyes with Ghanima. The moment her mother returned the eye contact, she could almost sense her fear, the unease. Something was wrong. She could tell. And it had nothing to do with her sitting too close to the balcony's edge.

"Yes, I know, mother. But I couldn't help it. The sunrises over Dune are so beautiful," Helene giggled again, her blue-in-blue eyes almost glowing.

Ghanima sighed through a smile, a hand reaching up to rake through her thick waves of mousy brown. "I know you have your indulgences, Helene. But the attacks on this Keep have grown steadily worse since your nineteenth birthday and there have been discussions about what to do in regards to safety."

Helene slid down off the balcony, her bare feet lightly striking the stone floor beneath her. Her filmy white gown flowed as a breeze suddenly blew through the open window. "I know," she began. Ghani's lips turned up into a small smile. "I've overheard you and father making plans."

Ghani laughed and stepped closer to her daughter. She reached out a hand and gently touched Helene's face. "Of course you did," she said. It amazed her how much Helene reminded her of Leto at times. "Then you also know that Farad'n and I have been in touch with the Fremen in the deepest parts of the desert."

It wasn't a question, but a test. Helene looked into her mother's equally blue eyes and tilted her head, golden red tendrils shifting with her movements. She reached up a hand and tapped her lip and shook her head. "No, I was not. So, the untouched desert then?" she asked, pausing a moment as she dropped her hand back to her side. "The desert is slowly receding..." her expression distant and her thoughts turning to her uncle.

Ah Uncle Leto... Helene wished she knew the man better. Before all the 'changes'...

Helene recalled as a young child how her mother and uncle would meet in the evenings at nearly every sunset. He would look so sad and so tired, his body ever changing. Each meeting would leave her mother distraught and in pain. She could see that she wanted to do something. Anything. But she was bound and trapped by a future she did not yet quite understand at the time. Her father would often try to comfort her, something she could see she appreciated and even loved about him. Yes... Helene knew the history, the arrangement. And she didn't need historians to remind her either. Now their meetings happened under the cover of total darkness. There were no more tears...at least none that were visible.

But the pain. Helene was certain that would never fade. Not ever.

Suddenly, Helene bit down on her lip and blinked her eyes several times before giving Ghanima a smile. Ghani just nodded. She was used to her daughter's occasional peculiar manner. It only endeared her all the more. Though she'd never let on. Not when she had to let her go. "Yes. Arrangements have already been made."

Helene scowled. Her pale cheeks turned a deep shade of scarlet.

"The last attack was believed to be a coordinated attack by more than just the Spacing Guild, Helene," Ghani continued, her voice a bit more stern than before. The concern she had was clear. "More is at work here. Much more." She bowed her head slightly. "We have many enemies, I'm afraid."

Helene nodded in understanding, her hands moving to rub at her bare arms. "The other noble houses?"

Ghani nodded causing Helene to sigh. There was still more her mother wasn't telling her.

"Come now, we must get you prepared for the arrival of our guests."

"Guests?" Helene almost squeaked.

Ghanima laughed. "Why yes. You didn't think we'd delay in your safety, did you?"

Helene's eyes flashed and narrowed. "I... I suppose not," she said as she winced, though her mother's smile just grew.

The morning slowly slipped past, and the two Fremen were still remaining patient. They had learned the value of patience on the desert flats. Shai-Hulud would grant things to those who waited patiently, would punish those who rushed ahead blindly. After so many years, decades, of hardship on Arrakis, the Fremen had well-learned the lessons of being impatient. Many lives had been lost in fool-hardy ventures when the Fremen – then nomads who were now referred to as Zensunni wanderers – first arrived on Arrakis, that the virtue of patience had been ingrained into their beings.

Slowly, the throng of people milling about in the small marketplace began to fade away. As the heat of the day began to press its weight onto the city, people were more careful about going out, preferring to remain indoors or keep to shades area. The Fremen pair were not so concerned; they were properly fitted out in stillsuits, their suits well-worn and well-designed. Like all suits of Fremen manufacture, theirs would limit their water loss to bout a thimble-full per day. These Fremen had come from the deep desert, and were planning on returning there quickly; suits were a must.

~I cannot abide these water-fat off-worlders~ Tal muttered under his breath, keeping his speech to the ancient dialect of Chakobsa. ~They have no respect for the planet they live on. Look at her,” he added, pointing to a woman who was apparently content to walk across the marketplace with little more than a thin dress on, ~she will heat up and lose water, then go inside and complain about how hot it is and drink water in a wasteful manner to help her cool down. If she took the time to prepare, she would not be bothered by the heat.~

~I understand what you mean, Tal,~ the younger Fremen’s companion replied. ~They do not understand our ways, or the ways of Arrakis. We would teach them, if we had the time to.~

~And if they had the inclination to learn,~ Tal bit back quietly. ~They come here and expect us to change to suit them. And thanks to the God-Emperor, we are.~

Ravis chose not to comment. The taller, older Fremen knew his younger companion was less tolerant of off-worlders than he should be, but he also knew the younger man would learn tolerance. This duty he was being asked to perform would teach the younger man as much as it would teach and protect the person they’d been tasked by Reverend Mother Jessica to look after.

Something caught the older man’s attention, though, and he paused to look. For an instant he saw a flash of a Fremen-like cloak in a doorway, then the figure disappeared and was gone from sight. Normally a person disappearing from view was nothing of itself, but when he was inside the city walls and wary…

~Do you know anything of this person the Reverend Mother asked us to protect, Ravis?~ Tal murmured.

Ravis nodded slowly. ~I do know. For your own benefit, at least until we’ve met and are travelling, I cannot tell you who the person is. You must have faith that because the Reverend Mother herself asked us, it is an important person to look after.~

~Hpmf.~ The noise sounded the same in any language, and carried the same meaning of discontent. Clearly, Tal wasn’t terribly impressed with the response, and he also knew there was little he could do about it.

Ravis touched the younger man’s shoulder and nodded in the direction he’d seen the flash of cloak. A bird flew up from approximately the same location as where the person had disappeared, then another. Again, nothing to be alarmed about normally, but…it looked almost like the birds had been startled into taking flight.

~Be on your guard, Talgar,~ the older man instructed. ~There are forces in play who’d kill you to get to the person we are to protect. Those birds have been startled, and I have reason to suspect that our blades will be blooded before this morning is done.~

For all that he might have been hot-headed on occasion, and less-then impressed with off-worlders, Talgar understood the need to be wary and prepared for battle. He gave a small nod of his head in understanding, and his hand crept to the sheath on his thigh to make sure his crysknife was present and ready to be drawn. A single Fremen warrior from the deep deserts was easily worth five or six regular soldiers from any House Major, and worth two or three of the once-dreaded Sardaukar soldiers.

~If that is how things are to go, I will make sure they earn my water,~ the younger Fremen agreed quietly.

Helene let out a soft sigh as she quietly padded through the corridor leading to her windowless room, carefully tucked away deep inside the fortress that had become her home for the past year. The girl still hadn't grown accustomed to her living quarters, but it was more for lack of wanting to grow attached to her current location. Her entire life had been that of the nomad, moving from place to place, never staying in a single Keep for very long. When she'd been younger, she and her brothers and sisters had often pretended to be much like the Fremen wandering the deserts and seeking the shelter of the sietches that only they would know and be able to find.

Of course, this had been just fancy and it had been years since she'd even been allowed to see her siblings. In fact, she hadn't even met her youngest brothers and sisters at all. A part of her knew she never would and Ghanima never spoke of it. And once Irulan left, she wouldn't dare bring up her siblings again, at least not in front of her parents. But she didn't have time to dwell on such things. Now was the time to listen even if she didn't want to.

The air was hot, though a breeze managed to find its way through one of the many open windows as Helene made her way toward her room. The warm air played with the flowing material of her white gown, causing it to billow slightly as she moved. Her golden red waves cascaded over her shoulders and down along her back, bouncing as she walked. She could hear the clicking sound of footsteps behind her—Ghanima—and glanced over her shoulder. Her blue eyes locked with those of her mother and she smiled. She wished she wasn't being sent away. Wasn't it bad enough that Trebor was gone? And Eleanor? And then there was the twins Elaine and Regor... It sickened her inside that her family was so divided, scattered as if nothing more than ash in the wind as time pressed forward and dust settled on Dune.

Not dust. Spice.

"You have to hurry, Helene," Ghani prodded. "Our visitors will be here shortly and you must be presentable. I'm afraid a nightgown isn't proper attire for greeting guests."

Helene stopped and turned on her heels. She tilted her head, a hand moving so that a finger could twist itself about a loose tendril. "Mm... quite so," she agreed, finally nodding. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips and she continued on her way to her all but hidden room.

~~~

The air suddenly felt warmer as Helene found herself standing atop the great staircase that led to greeting room. She wondered just whom she was to be meeting. Ghanima stood directly across from her, her blue-in-blue eyes flashing fiercely as the two Atreides locked gazes. Ghani quickly moved forward, her hand reaching up to cup her daughter's face. The girl was the image of Atreides beauty that she always heard the Fremen whisper about when they thought no one was listening. Ghani was quite good at blending in with the locals and made it a point to sweep through the marketplace from time to time. Of course, Leto never approved of the reckless behavior, but he also knew better than to stop his beloved twin. As Ghani stood there peering down at her second eldest daughter, she couldn't help but admire the girl before her. There she stood, her golden red hair swept up into braids that fell like a waterfall over her left shoulder. Her silvery gown was airy and shimmered as the light danced upon the material. She looked like an angel in the desert, standing out yet somehow fitting in. She was proud and she knew that both Farad'n and Leto would also be just as proud of how she'd turned out. How could they not be? She was Atreides, part of a legacy.

Though how she wished her daughter did not have to be torn away. Just like Trebor...and Eleanor. Just like her twins Regor and Elaine. It was too much, though she knew she had no choice. This was part of the path and all Atreides had to follow it. Ghani's only wish was that she could follow all of her children, personally ensure all of their safety. But, she could not. Helene tilted her head, blue-in-blue eyes glistening. "Mother?" she whispered. Realization began to set in.

She'd dreamed this.

Just then, a pair of strong hands gently seized Helene's arm and began escorting her in a direction that hardly led to the greeting room. Quickly, she glanced down, her eyes glimpsing Farad'n as he moved away from a small gathering of people dressed in brown.

She'd dreamed this.

Helene watched her mother turn away, their eyes no longer focused on one another. She was being led away, taken from her home, from the Keep. Her heart was pounding as she was led through a darkened corridor that would lead her to a future she feared. She knew it would be fraught with dangers, tests, people she didn't know... people who frightened her in ways she couldn't begin to explain. It was odd feeling that way and she knew it. After all, her grandmother had come from the desert—born and raised. And her mother had been born in the desert as well along with her uncle, her mother's beloved twin, the now Emperor.

For a moment, Helene's thoughts drifted and she imagined what it must be like to live such a life—one so secluded and apart from the hustle and bustle of Arakeen. A shiver ran along her spine just then, her blue eyes blinking as she thought on all the bits and pieces she'd learned about her grandmother's people. It had never been hidden from her that she was both blessed and cursed, enduring the burden of prescience like her grandfather, a gift that seemed to run in the Atreides line. While Irulan had lived with them, the princess had chosen to forsake her Fremen heritage, concentrating her efforts on teaching her and her siblings what she could of the Weirding Way, much like Lady Jessica had done for Muad'Dib. But the teaching had been limited and her knowledge of her people, stilted. It was something Ghani had never forgiven herself for and had hoped to rectify with her youngest children.

But such things did nothing to ease Helene's mind as her dreams unfolded before her very eyes and her time with the Fremen became inevitable.

All too quickly, the corridor was getting shorter, the walls closer together and Helene found herself getting closer to the large door she knew yet had never seen before in her life. Swallowing hard, she recalled every part of her dreams. It was one that had made her skin break out into a cold sweat—strange given the heat of Arrakis. At one time, the water produced by a body would've been considered a cherished gift and, to some, it still was. But those numbers were dwindling and it was because of her own family's legacy, the one started by her grandfather, the Mahdi.

Was that what her uncle had meant? Helene shook her head. Uncle Leto's affairs were his own, his and her mother's. Not hers. She had her own future, her own destiny, her own... path... ahead of her now. Suddenly the man that had been holding onto Helene let go and nodded toward the door. "You're to leave this way," he said gruffly.

"And the others?" Helene inquired. She'd distinctly seen a group of people gathered in the main hall where she thought she'd be meeting her Fremen guests.

"Decoys," he responded.

Helene's eyes widened. Almost glowing in the dim light of the corridor. She nodded, her breaths coming faster as she found her nerves growing ragged and raw.

She'd dreamed this.

Just when Helene didn't think she'd be able to take much more, the gruff man opened a slot in the door and made a soft call. It was the sound of a shrill bird, one she'd heard before when listening to the soft sounds of Dune as the sun set over the deserts and the great worms cried out as if in pain. "What are you doing?" Helene hissed.

"Alerting your escorts," the man said. "Here." He thrust a brown cloak at Helene causing her to grunt softly. "Put this on."

Even the patience of the Fremen could be tested, and both Ravis and Talgar were starting to become restless. Ravis knew that the exchange would be done near here, near the market they were currently standing by, but he was not entirely sure exactly where it would occur. He knew it was that was so as to keep them safe if things did go badly, and it was all the more reason for Tal to not know until the younger man needed to know. Ravis understood the younger man’s disquiet, and he sympathised in a way; but he had his orders from Naib Fuhrlar, from the Reverend Mother Jessica, and he would not disobey them. If all went according to plans, they would have a travelling companion in short time. If not…at least he and Tal would be able to escape to safety. And it was getting close to the time that their companion would be late.

A shrill bird call sounded over the market. Both Fremen looked around; Tal suspiciously, as if he was half-expecting an attack, and Ravis more cautiously, like he was looking for someone. The sound had not seemed to come from the same direction as he’d seen the flash of cloak, from there the birds had been startled earlier. No…this call seemed to come from the general direction of the Keep. This gave Ravis hope that things would yet go well.

~Have you noticed that the number of people in the market seems to have fallen since we’ve been here?~ Talgar observed quietly.

~I had noticed,~ Ravi agreed, equally quietly. ~Be on your guard, now more than ever. While I hope things will proceed as they have been planned, I am wary that they may not. Our…companion will be joining us shortly. Come, this way.~

The two men carefully made their way towards the rear of the market place, towards a small group of hovel-like dwellings slightly closer to the Keep. As they walked, Tal was increasingly aware of a lack of people around them: either no-one was around at all, or they were all remaining indoors, in which case it would be strange but otherwise not noteworthy; or they were away for a reason, such as hiding from something they’d rather not face, in which case he knew to be ready as he could be. His hand rested casually on the hilt of his sheathed crysknife; only a fool would think him not capable of drawing and killing in one easy motion.

~Something is very wrong, Ravis…~ Tal noted in a whisper as the pair came to a stop at the edge of the collection of dwellings. Across the small street was another collection of dwellings, and a flat section of rocky wall they rested against.

~I know, Tal,~ the older man replied. ~But we must now proceed as we have planned. If things are to go wrong, we must deal with the changes as we find them.~ Ravis nodded towards the flat section of rock wall. ~They will come from there. Watch the houses and walls surrounding. They will be open as they come to us, but that cannot be helped. With luck, caution will not be needed.~

~I understand,~ Tal replied, as he set his gaze to watching. In a way, he felt that this situation was almost similar to his first riding of a worm: in that situation, like so many rides that followed, he had checked his hooks and ropes then set his thumper; with the thumper active and its rhythmic pulse calling a worm, he had to wait and watch carefully for wormsign…until it finally came – not a big worm, but large enough for him to ride and call his test a success. This, now, waiting and watching for an ambush that might never happen, felt like he was waiting for a worm that might not show…like he was waiting to see whether it would be Shai-Hulud or Shaitan that showed.

And yet that feeling of unease would not leave him…

Helene's breaths were short and shallow. How she wished her mother was with her. This would be her first time into the desert—a place her mother loved, her uncle wandered and roamed! It was the Atreides path, their legacy. Yet it was slowly receding, destroying a place that had once been clean and pure and turning it into something else. Her thoughts ran wild as a pang of fear washed over her. With all of her might, she tried to tamp it down, remembering those words she all too often heard both her mother and Irulan, before she'd been sent away, preach time and time again: Fear is the mind killer...

She was Atreides. She was Leto's niece. She had to face her fear and walk this path set before her. Just then, Helene felt her eyes prick with tears. Blinking, she reached up and touched the salty-wet with her index finger. She studied the tiny glistening bead for a moment before inserting the tip of her finger into her mouth. A vision flitted through her mind the moment she tasted the tiny tear, her face contorting as the face of Alia fluttered through. She could see her eyes, the repentance and regret.

"Leto..." Helene whispered.

"What's that, girl?" the man growled as he waited, back leaning against the door.

Helene shook her head, her thoughts still lingering on her uncle. Her mother loved him so deeply, worried for him so steadfastly. She thought on how he must've felt during his earliest years, when he chose to follow that Golden Path...such a dangerous path, yet he'd faced it and embraced it and now he ruled the entirety of the Empire.

"Nothing," Helene answered, as she moved to put on the cloak. But her thoughts remained on her uncle. Was she ready to face an inevitable fate much like her uncle? No, not like him, but dangerous and terrifying nonetheless. Much like her uncle, she had no choice. She was trapped by all that surrounded her, unable to escape her bloodlines and the hatred.

And the gift—no curse—that was prescience.

The brooding man gave Helene a once over after she put on the cloak, the browns hiding her clothes and allowing her to blend in with the locals. He stepped close and pulled the hood up over her head. Looking down into her face, he gave her a lopsided smile, his blue eyes nearly glowing in the dim light.

"You look like your mother," he said, causing Helene to flush a pale shade of pink. "More so than I expected." With a shrug, he turned away and gave the door a push. His hand reached for Helene's and he pulled her out into the open marketplace. "Stay close," he whispered harshly, an order not a request.

Helene only nodded. She knew this was what her mother and father wanted. This was her path even if she had no desire to walk it. She'd dreamed this back when she was but a small girl. It had terrified her then, just as it was now. Yes, she remembered it well, every little bit. She truly wished she'd spoken of it to her mother. But the time was lost and she'd never get it back. Such was the curse of the Atreides.

"Fear is the mind killer..." Helene whispered to herself as she was dragged along past a few wandering folk. She didn't like the way they looked her way, eyes staring, studying. What were they thinking? "I...I will face my fears..." She clamped her eyes shut, letting this man her mother entrusted her with to pull her to safety or wherever it was he had in mind.

"Be quiet, girl," the man hissed. "And take this." He thrust a crysknife into Helene's hand.

Helene opened her eyes and looked at the weapon she clutched against her palm. She'd never used one, but had seen her mother practice often. The weapon felt strange against as she held it, but she knew this was a gift to be cherished, a tool to be guarded, something that could save her life. She immediately tucked it underneath her cloak and held it close, praying that she wouldn't have to use it. Not so soon...not so soon.

"Over there," the man whispered, his tone still harsh as he gestured toward a particular street corner. His eyes focused on two men who fit the description given to him by Ghanima herself. "Them."

Helene glanced toward the men, her eyes narrowing as the bright light from the sun bore down on them all. She saw them, her heart racing. But something wasn't right. She remembered it from the dream. Something was wrong.

They were being followed.

"Move, girl. Now," the man spoke into Helene's ear as he all but shoved her forward. He grabbed her arm again, his pace quickening. Suddenly, his steps moved in an odd direction. He was no longer heading toward the men he'd pointed out! Helene knew this! This confirmed her fears! "You're in danger, young Atreides. I swore to your mother I'd get you out of here alive. I plan to do it." He paused, voice hushed and breaths sharp. "You saw those men."

Helene nodded, her eyes wide with fear. "Yes," she whispered.

"Get to them," he ordered. "At all costs, get to them." He turned and faced her, his hands hard on her shoulders. "There's something I must do."

"But..." Helene protested.

"Go!" he shoved Helene off. "Don't look back."

Talgar saw the pair first.

~There,~ he murmured, nodding with his hood-covered head in the direction of the two - an older male and a younger female. But then-

~Where is he going?~

Ravis looked in the direction Tal had indicated and saw them, and wondered the same. But he saw something else...

~He believes they are not alone,~ the older Fremen replied. They could see that the older man had headed in a different direction, almost along the keep wall, and that he'd almost shoved the female in their direction. ~He's looking to delay their pursuers. Wait here for the female to get close - she is the one we need to protect. Help her if she looks to be in trouble. Once you have her, head back to the market, then to the 'thopter. Do not wait for me, Tal.~

~But-~

~Do not wait, I said!~ The older man lightly touched his hand to the younger man's shoulder. ~Walk in the path of Shai-Hulud, Talgar.~ With that, Ravis slipped away, hand on his knife, looking for all the world like he meant to do battle.

Tal didn't like it at all, but he did as requested. He watched the female make her way towards him...an instinct told him she was being too slow. She didn't fully appreciate the need for haste...maybe she just didn't know how precarious her situation was. She was half-way across the street, moving steadily toward him, when he saw one of her pursuers, and the shimmer of a personal shield. Tal knew he couldn't wait for her to get to him; the pursuer was too close to her. Then he saw another pursuer, a couple of steps behind the first. He drew his knife, darted out from the shadows he'd been standing in.

"Quickly...move!" he hissed at the girl as he moved quickly to put himself between her and them. "Aiee, they think their stupid shields will help them."

The first pursuer was dead before he realised Tal had drawn his knife, the Fremen blade slipping through the shield and slicing deeply into the man's throat. As the first fell gasping and gurgling for a breath that would never reach his lungs, Tal turned to face the second man, who'd at least had a couple of seconds to react...and the second man knew now that any advantage he might have had was long gone. The man and Fremen faced off against each other for only a moment before the man lunged forwards...blades flicked against each other briefly, bodies pressed together equally briefly...and then the Fremen blade disappeared momentarily, reappearing as the second man fell to the ground, a deep wound in his chest where his heart was. It had taken no more than ten seconds for Tal to dispatch both men. Pausing only to wipe his blade on the cloak of the second man, he turned to face the young woman. She looked pretty enough, he supposed, confused and a bit scared, maybe, but...

"We have no time," he told the girl flatly. "Come!"

He had no time for idle chatter, and he hoped the girl would be smart enough to realise this was not the time for it. He almost unceremoniously pushed her in the direction of the small walkways between the hovel-like homes, then guided her in the direction of the marketplace. She was loud and clumsy in her movements, rushing blindly, not caring that her sound might give her away.

"Quiet!" he hissed. "You make more noise than Shai-Hulud dancing in drum-sand."

Beyond the rebuke he made no comment or sound as they made their way, quickly and with hurried purpose, to the market that he and Ravis had been at earlier. He did not hear signs of additional pursuit, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He looked over his shoulder and saw nothing as they darted between buildings, but that didn't mean there was no-one there. Finally - it seemed like a very long time - they reached the market...and Tal pulled up quickly, grabbing the girl's shoulder and pulling her to a stop beside him.

The market place was empty - not a person in sight.

"We wait here for a couple of minutes, to see if Ravis and your guide will join us," he whispered. If he was feeling the exertion of his brief fight and rapid movement, his gave no outward sign. "I will not wait longer for them, though. Stay in the shadows and make no sound...this is very, very wrong."

Unable to help herself, Helene did look back. Her blue-in-blue eyes searched for the man—no he'd been Fremen—who'd escorted her this far to the ones who'd bring her to safety, to the desert her mother, her grandparents, her uncle loved so much. But he was gone. He was nothing but wind and shadow now, gone from her penetrating gaze and lost to her prescient dreams. "May Shai-Hulud clear the path before you," she whispered, her eyes tearing as the danger of the situation bore deeper into her mind. Quickly, she turned back into the direction in which she'd been told to go. The pair of men seemed distraught, one moving away while the other lunged forward. She swallowed hard knowing that her life rested in this man's hands. She was at his mercy now—his and the desert itself. She just hoped it proved to be kind for once.

Oh, Uncle Leto!

A flash of light brighter than the sun, the screaming voices echoing loudly as sand and rubble rained down from a scorching hot sky.

Helene blinked rapidly, her face twisting as a muscle twitched in her jaw. Her eyes connected with those of the man heading toward her, his mouth moving only she could not hear him. The voices were too loud only no one was screaming. She glanced from side to side. There was no rubble, no fear...where was the crowd? She felt confused, her steps slowing as she tried to make sense of what had just happened. This had not been part of the dreams.

Suddenly, Helene found herself shielded by this strange Fremen, his crysknife buried deeply within another's flesh. She turned to see ribbons of crimson bloom across the chest of the fallen, his body unmoving as it crumpled into a heap upon the hard packed sands. Her eyes moved to the face of the one who'd protected her, his eyes unmistakable. She'd seen them before—his eyes, his face. A shiver ran along her spine, goose bumps forming on milky white flesh as she cast her glance away and his words filled her ears. He was hardly the first Fremen she'd seen, but he was the only one who'd been in her dreams, his face in the shadows as he beckoned her to him...and each time she'd always gone willingly despite the nervous fear he instilled.

Helene wanted to speak, but there was no time. The Fremen turned his body in one swift motion, fluid grace like any desert creature. He truly was at one with the desert, his arms like the wind, his feet knowing how to move with the sand. And once again, he bested another assailant, causing him to fall upon his brother-in-arms. Helene stared at the dead and suddenly thought on the decoys, but her thoughts were interrupted as she was all but shoved away.

With a small nod, Helene didn't protest. She knew this was what her mother wanted. What her uncle wanted. For now, she would obey. But this direction; it was wrong. She slowed her steps, tried to veer a different way. She remembered this detail and it set her thoughts to running wild! The way the tiny dwellings aligned in such a manner, she'd seen this. And the streets—they were quiet, too quiet! "No," she whispered, though she knew the Fremen couldn't hear her. He just continued to tug her along, his agitation clear. More than anything, she wanted to yell, to shout! Anything to warn him that he was making a grave mistake!

It didn't help that he was mocking her own inadequacies, her flaws. Helene was well aware of them, more than most, and had no issue admitting them. She'd envied her younger siblings who were to be taught the ways of the Fremen. The twins had been fortunate to learn so much more than the rest of them and she'd overheard Ghanima speaking to her uncle that her youngest would be raised with them in the sietches. But that did nothing for her now. This Fremen was wasting energy and water on such trivial things. Didn't he know how desperately she wanted to learn?

As fury consumed Helene, she could feel the danger of her surroundings grow. They shouldn't be going the way they were. They needed to keep moving, change directions. Couldn't he sense the danger? Couldn't he... Just then, he stopped, halting them both and insisting for quiet and telling her that they couldn't linger long. Her blue eyes narrowed and she tugged on his arm.

"We cannot stay. We cannot remain at all," Helene pressed. Her muscles tensed as she made to keep moving, her hand reaching for the Fremen's as she quickly bolted down a narrow street. She longed to wait, but knew it was impossible.

She'd dreamed this!

The inevitability. It couldn't be stopped.

Such was the curse of prescience.

"We go now," Helene insisted, fear lacing her voice. She gripped the Fremen's hand tightly and prayed he wouldn't let his agitation and annoyance stop her. Their lives were on the line now, ready to fall off the edge if they weren't careful enough to follow the signs shown to them. "Please," she begged. How she wished none of them had gotten separated, that there weren't any decoys or plots. It was moments like these that she hated who she was and where she came from, that she hated that she was Atreides.

When he left Talgar, Ravis had headed in the direction the other man had disappeared. The Fremen had known Helene would be accompanied as she was escorted out of the Keep, but he hadn't known just who would be doing the escorting. He caught up with the other man a couple of minutes after leaving his companion, and was mildly surprised to find another Fremen. The other man - older, not as lean as Ravis - saw him a second later, and slowed enough to allow Ravis to catch up with him.

~Ravis, of Sietch Chondak,~ Ravis greeted the man was they fell into step.

~Anteg, of Sietch Tabr,~ came the reply. ~We are being pursued.~

~I guessed. How many?~

~Four, maybe five men. Don't know who. My task is to make sure they don't reach her.~

Ravis nodded. ~Mine is to make sure she leaves the city.~

The two men paused just long enough to grip each other's forearm in a shake of unity. They understood what needed to be done...and what the price might be of their success. Neither wanted to die, but they would give their lives to succeed.

They moved in absolute silence for a few seconds when they stopped - they'd found their pursuers. A group of six men were gathered in what looked like a huddle - possibly planning their plan of attack. They were too close to Helene and Talgar for either Fremen to be comfortable, and the group looked well-prepared. Anteg hissed softly.

~More than I thought. I have explosives to disable and slow them,~ Anteg whispered.

It was more than the other man had. ~I was only prepared to defend an escape effort,~ Ravis admitted in a hushed voice. ~I'll help.~

It was then that they both overheard something in the conversation from the huddle, and both Fremen's eyes widened markedly. They'd underestimated the length these men were prepared to go to in order to remove Helene from the universe.

~You must warn them!~ Anteg urged quietly.

Ravis nodded his agreement, but the fates were not so kind - almost as one, the six men turned in the direction of Anteg's hissed urging. With a curse, Anteg stood and threw a device towards the six men. They rushed for cover, but it didn't stop the device from detonating, exploding quietly with a bright flash that obscured vision for several seconds. Ravis turned and rushed off, but not before the sounds of pistols were heard. Sounds of fighting could be heard as he ducked and darted, but he was not in the clear; he felt projectiles tear into him, several times, and he knew they were not aimed shots...but they would still slow him down. He heard more fighting, shouts, then an explosion...Ravis knew he wouldn't see Anteg again.

The Fremen moved as quickly as he could through the small streets, rushing between dwellings as best he could. He could feel his energy fading - he was wounded, losing the Water of his Life. He had to get to the marketplace where Tal and Helene were headed. He had to warn them...he wasn't sure he'd be joining them, but his duty was clear.

Tal heard the explosion not far off. That was too close, and he straightened quickly, all but dragging Helene up with him as he grabbed her elbow. That was until he saw Ravis...running towards the market...running through the gaps between hovels. The two made eye contact, and Ravis waved an arm at them. The time for subtlety and silence was gone; now was the time for urgency.

"GO! RUN!" he yelled at the pair, even as his legs stumbled slightly in his effort to keep carrying him.

Talgar hesitated, even then - he didn't want to leave Ravis behind. The older Fremen saw the hesitation, yelled again as his blood began to stain the outer skin of his stillsuit. "RUN!"

Talgar nodded once, then did as his mentor urged. He recalled, fleetingly, that the girl had urged him not to wait, and he was no longer doing so. The girl's elbow still gripped in his hand, he started to run towards the city edge...towards the gate he and Ravis had entered the city through. A fifteen minute walk beyond the city edge, hidden inside a rocky outcrop, was a 'thopter waiting for them. They had to get this girl to that 'thopter. Tal knew it would be himself that did it.

They were halfway to the edge of the city when they noticed the first tremors of the ground under their feet as they ran. The air around them grumbled as the ground shook beneath them, slowly at first, but with increasing strength.

"STONE BURNER!~" Ravis yelled again. He was falling behind, and he was sure, now, that he would not be leaving the city. As long as he helped Helene and Tal escape, then he could die in peace. "RUN!"

"By the...!" Tal muttered as he ran alongside the mysterious girl. The grumbling of the ground continued to grow, until instinct made him stop and throw the girl behind a building and use his own body to shield her, using his body to cover her face even as he buried his face in her shoulder.

Tal's timing was good; several seconds after he'd moved to protect the pair of them, the grumbling reached a crescendo, and a bright flash of light erupted from near the market where Ravis and Tal had first waited. A wave of intense heat rolled past them, accompanied by a blast of wind and sound, the combination assaulting their senses. How long they waited, Tal couldn't say, but it was long enough...although it probably felt longer than it was. As the heat and light faded, screams of pain could be heard, and it was only when there was no rumbling of the ground that Tal dared to lift his head. He was covered in dust, as was the girl, but he was alive and apparently unharmed...just as the girl seemed to be. It was then that he saw the destruction caused by a Stone Burner - the market had evaporated, as had the dwellings near it; nearer buildings were ablaze, and there were people wandering, staggering, aimlessly.

Ravis was one of them.

The older Fremen was near to the pair, and Tal wasn't going to let him die in the city. "Ravis!" he called out in a whisper.

Ravis turned his head slowly, and instantly Tal knew what was wrong: Ravis was blind. His mentor had not been able to protect his eyes from the brightness and damaging effects of the stone burner. They were close to the edge of the city, only a couple of minutes' walking remained; in the ensuing chaos of the Stone Burner, they'd be able to get out well enough. Tal took the couple of steps needed to get to his mentor, gripped him on the shoulder. "Ravis!" the younger Fremen hissed again.

"Tal...is that you?" Ravis queries, his voice cracked and raspy. "I...I cannot see, my friend. Please...let me die in the desert. Let me die like a warrior."

The pained expression on the younger Fremen's face said much - he didn't want to do it, but he knew there was no choice. The sietch would not be able to tolerate a warrior who could not hold his own, who could not pull his own weight, who could not perform his own tasks and duties. Without saying a word, he took his mentor's elbow and guided him towards the city edge. He made sure the girl was walking with them - he still didn't know her name.

"You must get her to our sietch, Talgar," Ravis murmured quietly, as if his softly-spoken voice would be heard over the wailing that had started in the wake of the Stone Burner. "She is to learn our ways. You must be the one to teach her."

"She's an off-worlder," Tal sneered back, not caring that the girl in question was right next to them. "Water-fat. She doesn't even have a stillsuit."

"We have a spare suit for her. And she is skilled, Tal. She will be able to teach you things as well. Be patient." By now the trio had reached the edge of the city - before them was an expanse of sand, open desert into which an incapable Fremen could wander and meet an honourable death. His water would be lost to the sietch, but his honour would remain intact. Ravis somehow sensed this, as he drew in a deep, strong breath and let it out slowly. "Thank you, my friend. Walk with Shai-Hulud."

"Walk with Shai-Hulud, Ravis," Tal intoned in reply.

The chaos of the city still behind them, Tal and the girl watched as the proud Fremen stumbled off into the desert. After a couple of minutes, Tal turned to face the girl...and it was the first time, he realised, that he'd actually gotten to really look at her. She was...pretty, in a severe way. Almost Fremen-like. Her golden-red hair hung down over her shoulders and off-set her blue eyes nicely. But her skin had that distinctive sheen of the water-fat off-worlder. He was supposed to teach her? And what could she possibly teach him? His blue-in-blue eyes studied her intently for several seconds, before he finally nodded his head in the direction of a not-distant outcropping of rock.

"Come...we walk this way." In spite of his apparent distaste for the girl, he did not begin moving towards the rocky outcrop until she did.

Why wouldn't he move? Why? Helene was frantic, her thoughts reciting the litany over and over just as her mother had told her time and again. "Fear is the mind killer..." But still, this Fremen seemed determined to hold his ground. He was waiting for a signal. Only, she knew there was no time. Death waited for them if they remained. Just then, she heard a shout, the ground rumbling beneath her feet. Helene twisted her head and saw a movement of shadow and knew this man would no longer stay frozen to the ground. In an instant, his legs were moving, his grip on her elbow strong as he began to move them both through the courtyard and to safety.

Helene knew what was coming. She'd dreamed this. So many times she'd felt the heat and had heard the screams, but she did not remember the weight of his body as he shielded her from the worst. As the loud rush of wildfire flooded the marketplace, thundering against her ears and drumming inside her head, she felt a sense of calm. There was his breath against her neck, tickling the sensitive flesh and beckoning it shiver and give way to goose bumps. She could feel the tingling prickle as he held her, the warmth somehow familiar and confusing. Without thinking, she let her tiny hands clutch onto his cloak, pressing herself into the planes of his body. When all finally went quiet, she dared to pull away and look up into that face that haunted her dreams.

His eyes glowed much like her mother's and Helene felt a strange ripple run along her skin. Somehow his voice seemed familiar as he spoke to her, yet she'd never heard him speak before this moment let alone had never even met him. Not even in her dreams when his face looked down upon her own could she recall him speaking to her. Yet, right then, she knew it so perfectly—each inflection, the pitch and timbre. It was strange how she seemed to know it, how it seemed to soothe during this time of tension and fear. But she didn't have time to dwell on such coincidences. The desert heat often played tricks on the mind and fear was often times powerful as well. No doubt they were playing with her senses and the lingering cries of those mourning in the streets now turned to rubble and ash didn't help matters.

It seemed like time had stood still as Helene gazed up into the Fremen's face. But she was soon brought back into the moment when he turned and called out to the man who'd clearly been accompanying him earlier...before the marketplace had been rendered nothing but an empty space of ruin. The man seemed older than he had only moments ago, his face scorched, his eyes blinded. She felt her heart twist. This devastation was her fault, her families. This was a result of Atreides blood coming to a place as pure as Arrakis!

Helene felt a lump form in her throat, her mind reaching out to her uncle, her mother. Why? She thought on the Fremen who'd escorted her through the Keep. Where was he? Did he...? But she already knew the answer, just as she did with decoys. Blood spilled in the name of Atreides. Blood spilled for her.

The Fremen named Talgar, the one from her dreams, slowly led the way through Arrakeen. Helene kept silent, not wanting to speak, ashamed of both who and what she was. How could these people be so loyal when all her family had done was being destruction upon them all.

Death.

Rebirth...

The word echoed in Helene's mind as quickly as the former. She shivered and watched the older Fremen take his leave into the desert—a noble Fremen. She wished things had gone differently, that she might have gotten to know this man that this Talgar clearly held in high regard. "May Shai-Hulud clear the path before you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Helene looked at Talgar and nodded, though her blue-in-blue eyes did not quite reach his. The sun overhead was hot and they had a lot of ground to cover. Turning, she began to walk out into the sands, the desert her uncle roamed and her mother loved. "Thank you, Talgar," she said, a softness in her voice. His name sounded nice as she tested it out on her tongue. "I'm Helene, daughter of Ghanima Atreides."

~~~

Ghanima just stared at Farad'n. She was in desperate need of consoling now that her daughter was lost. She felt a tug at her heart and knew that she'd find no comfort with her consort. Only Leto understood her, knew her mind as well as her heart. They were pre-born, twins. They were Atreides. She turned from Farad'n, her heart breaking.

Foresight was lost. Her daughter was truly gone.

As panic swept over her, Ghani knew this was part of the inevitable. This was as Leto had wanted it. He would be proud of what she'd just done and that was what mattered. Only it didn't make things any easier. It never did. Filled with terror, she hurried toward a back staircase. The decoys were gone. It was up to the Fremen now. Letting out a resigned sigh, she took a step up the stone stairs and glanced over her shoulder at her consort. Did the Corrino prince truly know what love was, the sacrifices it entailed? Turning away, she could feel that unnatural sting in her eyes. They were tearing. Quickly, she rushed up the rest of the stairs. No. She'd find no comfort with Farad'n. She never did and she knew she never would.

He heard the woman-child’s name as they fell into step together, side-by-side…and, as soon as he heard it, Tal wished that he hadn’t asked. It would have been easier not knowing. As it was, his bearing stiffened slightly, and he had no doubt she’d be able to detect it.

“Atreides,” he spat softly. His voice may have been quiet, but the distaste may as well have been shouted.

Atreides. A damnable Atreides. Daughter to Ghanima, niece to the cursed God-Emperor, grand-daughter to the maligned Mahdi Muad’Dib. The only blood that was worthy in this girl was that belonging to Muad’Dib’s mate, Chani.

Atreides.

He didn’t – couldn’t – look at her as they walked. His distaste for her heritage was clear enough in his voice. Instead, he pointed towards a rise of rocks in the direction they were headed – it might have looked far to off-worlder eyes, but Tal knew it wasn’t that far; fifteen minutes’ walk at most. The desert could play tricks with the perceptions of the unwary.

“We’re headed there,” he advised her flatly. “There’s a ‘thopter hidden there. There’s a spare stillsuit for you; you’ll have to change once inside. From there we head south, into what remains of the Deep Desert. You must be prepared for a rough journey; people who are willing to use a Stone Burner to get one person won’t sit still when they notice a ‘thopter flying away from the Stone Burner.”

It was only then that he flicked a glance in her direction, although he did not look at her face; instead, his gaze darted towards her legs and feet, as if he was talking at her and not to her…

“Do as I do – walk without rhythm. Rhythmic vibrations, even in footfalls, can summon a worm. It’s unlikely one will come this close to the city, but if you start practicing now you’ll be less likely to get yourself killed once you’re in the desert. Should we encounter a worm, you do exactly as I say – nothing more, nothing less.” It was clear the man wasn’t going to be happy with anything other than agreement and understanding. And, for the time being, he appeared to consider conversation closed, as he secured his stillstuit’s face-mask into position, hiding all but his eyes from view.

The remainder of the journey towards the rocky outcrop was in silence: Tal offered no comment, and other than the occasional glance to make sure she was keeping up, barely acknowledged Helene’s existence; if Helene made any attempt at conversation, he either offered a muffled grunt as a reply or said nothing at all. It was only when they rounded the rocks, hiding the city from view and bringing the ‘thopter in sight, that Tal broke the silence; with a hand signal he got Helene’s attention and gestured up. Not too far away from them was another’ thopter, clearly flying circling slowly…like it was searching.

“We’ll have to be careful,” he observed. “Until I have you in-sietch, everyone we see is an enemy.” The other ‘thopter did not appear to have noticed them, but Tal knew that wouldn’t remain the case for much longer. Their own ‘thopter was well-hidden from view, partially sheltered from the sky by the rock formations around and above it, but that cover would cease to be useful the second they became airborne. Tal opened the door to the craft and entered first, his hand on the hilt of his knife; then he gestured to Helene to enter as he looked around for a few seconds before pulling a pack from a small locker.

“Fremkit…spare stillsuit…suit repair kit…maker hooks…a couple of thumpers…good.” He handed the stillsuit to Helene. “Put this on. I’ll keep my eyes averted if you’re concerned. Once you’re ready we’ll head off, see how far we can get.”

* * * * *

Part of the problem with being prescient, Leto knew, was that although he could see everything along the Golden Path, he couldn’t tell other people what he could see…not even his dear Ghani. If she’d known that Helene would survive, her concern about getting her daughter safely out of the city wouldn’t have been genuine, and nor would her grief be at believing Helene was lost. He knew Helene was safe, just as he knew Ghani was coming to him for comfort. He also knew that Farad’n and Ghani would get along wonderfully well in the end, but it wasn’t for him to interfere…apart from the occasional nudge, perhaps.

There were times when he hated knowing everything…and he knew there’d be a time when he longed for death, to escape the terminal boredom of prescience.

For now, all the Emperor could do was wait for Ghani to come to him, let her express her grief at Helene’s loss, let her give water to the dead…and let her believe, as best he could, that he believed Helene was gone, too.

The legacy of her family hadn't gone unnoticed by this Fremen, the man haunting her dreams for so many years. His face was as it had always been, his eyes glowing just as bright and now she knew the extent of the reach of her grandfather. It touched not just her past and her present, but also her future. Her very life now lied in the hands of a man who had no love for Atreides. Though, how could she fault him for such hatred? She couldn't. She wouldn't. She understood it wholly and completely. It was something she'd grown to fear more and more each sunrise her mother caught her looking out into the deserts of Dune—a harsh world she'd never been allowed to traverse.

Not until now.

Helene made no attempt to search for Tal's eyes, her own remaining fixed on the outcrop or rocks in which he'd said was their current destination. She was sure that he and the man he'd lost in the marketplace had supplies stashed there. Ready and waiting for their arrival...only they'd be one person short. One person's water lost to the desert and for what?

All in the name of Atreides.

A wave of disgust rippled through her blood as Helene moved with the arrhythmic footfalls of the Fremen. She glanced Tal's manner of movement, knew a little having seen the way her own mother moved. How she longed for the comfort of someone who truly understood, the embrace of her mother as her arms encircled her and cradled her close. But she couldn't see her, so she thought on her uncle, his body slowly changing, becoming one with the desert after her family cursed the lands with their visions. A part of her wondered if she deserved to come face to face with the great Shai'Hulud. Perhaps such an end was the only fate she deserved. Ghani would scold her for thinking such things. But the empress was not with her, no longer near enough to have influence.

The sun bore down without mercy and the brown cloak Helene wore did little to help stave off the relentless heat. But it was far better cover than the shimmery gown she donned beneath. Such things would mean death out in the deepest parts of the desert. No, she'd never meet a maker this way. It would be a dishonorable death, only proving the foolishness of off-worlder, of someone who didn't belong.

But did she?

Helene often wondered that, but her mother was always quick to push such thoughts from her mind. Ghani mentioned she be mindful of her own path, to follow it. They were Atreides. Though, Helene found herself not liking what that meant. Often times, she saw her mother weeping—sometimes in her dreams, sometimes at night when she'd run off to find her uncle. She supposed the legacy cursed more than just herself and her siblings. Her mother and uncle paid a high price as well.

When Helene and Talgar finally reached the outcrop of rocks, she finally dared a glance to his face. She shivered despite the heat, his eyes somehow seeing through her, though she knew he had no idea of what she knew, what she'd seen, she'd dreamed. She quietly took the stillsuit and let her fingers gently run over the material. It was a simple design, yet absolutely ingenious. She marveled at it for a moment before setting it down and readying herself to change. Firstly, she removed the brown cloak given to her by her escort, the gruff Fremen her mother had insisted she trust and obey. She studied the material, her blue-in-blue eyes not missing a stitch. The Fremen who'd given the cloak to her was dead. Her mother's friend...gone...sacrificed. And all for her.

Helene bit down on her lip, her heart twisting slightly as she gently set the cloak down and moved to unfasten her gauzy gown. A slight breeze blew through the area, the material billowing about her slight body. A swirl of sand and spice kicked up around her legs, but she made no move indicating that it bothered her and she made no gesture regarding Tal and whether or not he was watching.

Slowly, Helene let the straps of her dress fall over her pale shoulders. The material slid down along her skin like liquid water until it pooled about her body at her feet. She then stepped out the tiny heap, her body almost completely bare. For a moment, she had the urge to cover up, her arms moving to cover her breasts, but she closed her eyes and let her arms drop to her sides, a sense of calm washing over her. Just then, another breeze blew through and the scent of spice was strong in the air. She could smell it. It made her wonder if it would be stronger the deeper they went into the desert. As the hot air kissed her flesh, she felt her skin prickle, goose bumps forming along her arms, her tummy, her chest. She rubbed her arms gently, her eyes opening and a soft sigh escaping as she reached for the stillsuit and made to put it on and cover up. She was vulnerable and exposed, but she had no fear. She'd never fear Talgar.

Once the stillsuit was on and secure and Helen felt ready enough, she turned to face Talgar. "I'm ready," she said, her voice softer than she intended. But the look on his face was exactly as it had been in her dreams. Her heart pounding, she knew what lied ahead for them both would be treacherous. She'd seen the 'thopter above. "I trust you."

~~~

Ghani raced down the darkened corridor and threw open the doors that allowed her to look out upon the open desert. She couldn't see her daughter and she felt the chaos, the disturbance that was happening all over Arrakeen. Just what was it that Leto had planned? She wasn't stupid. She knew her brother wouldn't divulge such things, not if it disrupted the balance of what it was he set in motion. He was always scheming, seeing things that even she could not. She fell to her knees as her eyes suddenly spotted her brother. Quickly, she headed toward the hidden door that led down to their secret meeting place.

By the time Ghani had reached the lowest levels, she'd already stripped off most of the ceremonial garb and replaced it with a cloak. Something familiar and comfortable. Something...Fremen. Most nights, Leto came to her out of his own need. But there were times when her own needs surpassed his. She knew he'd already be expecting this and already be at their secret place. Waiting for her.

He always knew.

The mournful cries of Arrakeen somehow flooded Ghani's ears, the vision so very clear. She could never forget this as it seared her mind, forging the fear before it could start. Being pre-born, she was both blessed and cursed. She saw the burning of the marketplace, a whole part of the city destroyed! She feared that her daughter had died. It coursed through her and not even the litany of fear could stop it. Had this been why she'd lost sight of the child? Her heart shattered in her chest the closer she got to the place she knew Leto would be waiting and she could feel each piece slicing her flesh when she finally found herself looking deeply into Leto's eyes. For several long moments, she couldn't even speak. She just stared at her twin, her eyes pricking unnaturally with tears she rarely shed. Finally, she could no longer take the silence.

"I can't see her, Leto. She's lost to me." Unable to hold back the tears, Ghanima moved toward her brother, her arms moving about him, terrified he'd run and disappear into the sands of Dune, leaving her alone to cope with her sorrow.

As he settled into the pilot's chair of the 'thopter, Tal found his mind going over his interaction with this...Helene Atreides. So far she'd done nothing to anger or annoy him, other than being an Atreides. She'd kept quiet when he'd demanded it, followed his instructions. She may yet live up to the regard Ravis had apparently held her in. He was going to hold his judgment until he'd observed her some more. He was going to judge her worth as a person...to see if the sietch would be capable of accepting her. There was little doubt in his mind that her worth would be tested further before they reached Sietch Chondak; their enemies, the ones looking to kill her, would see to that.

He heard the rustling of clothing behind him, and he couldn't deny the temptation existed to turn his head to watch her disrobe and put the stillsuit on. He had heard rumours that the skin of the water-fat off-worlders was soft and smooth and...almost creamy, by comparison with Fremen skin. But he didn't; he had already granted her that respect, to not look at her as she stripped and changed.

Instead he checked over the controls of the little bug-like machine they were in, checking fuel levels, checking the instruments were reading properly, checking that control surfaces responded to instructions, checked the twin engines would operate as needed. It was probably unnecessary, checking that everything worked when the machine had already been flown to the city, but he did it anyway. If the 'thopter was going to crash, it wasn't going to be because he'd failed to check it worked properly. It was only when she declared herself ready that he stopped with the controls and turned in his chair to look at her.

She looked...almost Fremen. Almost. His trained eye noticed the suit hadn't been fitted properly, but then he didn't expect her to know how to fit it correctly. He offered a small grunt of approval, then stood and approached her.

"Almost," he gruffly conceded. "You've put it on well enough, but you need to learn how to adjust it for efficiency. Right now, you may as well not be wearing it. Let me adjust it for you..." He knelt before her, his hands slowly moving about her body as he spoke, starting with her lower legs and slowly moving upwards. He was all of a sudden very away of her closeness, of her warmth, as he tightened her suit, but there was nothing he could do other than what had to be done.

"The stillsuit collects all excreted material from the body," he explained. "Walking and breathing provide the pumping action for the suit to perform its work. There are pumps in the heels and around the chest." His hands tightened the straps around her heels first, then her calves, then up to her thighs. "ALL waste material is collected and processed in the suit - the thigh pads handle bodily waste, extract all water and remove it to catch pockets."

He stood up and leaned into her, his hands slipping around her waist and torso to adjust straps and clasps as he continued speaking. "As I said, breathing provide the pumping action for the torso. Fitted properly, a stillsuit such as you're wearing will keep you alive for a week or more, even in the Deep Desert. Remember to wear the face flap when in the desert, so the water vapour in your breath can be collected. Breath in through the nose, out through the mouth."

To an off-worlder not accustomed to wearing a stillsuit, the process Tal had just undergone to properly adjust Helene's suit might have been somewhat intimate, but to Tal it was simple necessity. He took a step back as he finished adjusting the suit and appraised her critically.

"Wear the cloak to keep yourself in some shade, and keep the hood pulled up," he advised. "Everything you can do to minimise your water loss is vital. And the suit should feel better, now. It's been fitted for desert activity. We only remove them when we're inside our own sietch."

He paused, then spoke again, his voice a little softer. "How does it feel?"

* * * * *

Ghani didn't disappoint, at least. Already, Leto was craving a surprise, but he knew he'd not have them. He was destined to know what was going to happen for another three-and-a-half thousand years, give or take a decade or two; at that point, he knew the metamorphic process he was undergoing would kill him. He embraced Ghani as she fell into his arms; her grief was genuine, as he needed it to be. The people who had sought to take Helene needed to believe they'd been successful, and Ghani's grief needed to be convincing.

He was very aware, too, of the mourning in the city. A portion of the city had been levelled by the Stone Burner, many people killed or injured, many people looking for answers, for someone to blame. Leto already knew that those who’d done this were taken care of; he’d seen to it. He’d known the Stone Burner was going to be set off in an attempt to get Helene, but he was as much trapped by his prescience as he was guided by it. Taking precautions against the Stone Burner would have alerted his enemies, and something more disastrous might have been attempted instead.

"I know she's gone, Ghani," he murmured softly, not bothering to offer the qualification that Helene was only lost to Ghani. "Things will unfold as they must."

He gave his beloved sister a gentle - for him - squeeze.

"Speak with Farad'n, Ghani," he suggested quietly. "You think you cannot find comfort with him, but he would like comfort from you. Helene was his daughter as well. You might surprise yourself with how much alike you and he really are...and how much you're both hurting right now."

He didn't let go of her, though - she needed to go her own way, in her own time. But he knew that, sooner rather than later, Ghani and Farad'n would find the strength of their love for each other.

A slight flutter caused her body to feel warm, though it was hardly from the heat. Helene hadn't expected it, but she felt that Fremen pride she'd often times heard her mother whisper in her father's ear. She knew it made her father sad at times to be belittled when she knew in her heart that the Corrino prince didn't deserve it. But she was sure that her mother didn't say such things to be cruel. Not really. Ghanima had been taught the Fremen way, as had her uncle. Though Irulan had tried to have her hand in keeping both of them sheltered from such culture—their heritage and the way of life that made Arrakis thrive as not only the center of commerce, but a place rich in something no off-worlder could understand until they stood upon the sands of Dune. She supposed it was the one way her mother held on to who she was, kept her mind focused and controlled. Truly her father must love the woman if he was able to bite his tongue and endure all these years. She hoped one day they'd find peace, that true love she knew her mother yearned to find. Irulan had tainted all that was Corrino as had her sister, her grandmother...Wensicia. There were times she didn't know which was worse—to be Atreides or Corrino. She had no love for either name and wasn't sure if she could ever accept what it meant to have the blood of both houses running in her veins.

But she trusted her parents, loved them dearly and desperately. And she loved her brothers and sisters. For them, she'd carry on, follow whatever path was before her. For them, she'd survive.

Helene felt her face flush slightly as Talgar moved to adjust her stillsuit. Her thoughts settled on the dreams that had plagued her night after night for years on end. She closed her eyes and just concentrated on his voice as he made sure everything was in place. It was the right thing to do. He wasn't cursed. He had no dreams haunting his mind. The only thing he saw when he looked upon her was hatred for change.

"Thank you," Helene whispered when Talgar finished. She'd memorized the way his hands had felt, as they'd put everything into place. Her eyes opened and she took note of what he'd done, putting that to memory along with his touch. She then put on the cloak she'd been given by the Fremen who'd known her mother, her hands tugging at her hood and pulling it up over her head. "It feels good," she added in response, her cheeks still hot. "Comfortable and..." her voice trailed, thoughts running wild as words suddenly eluded her. She blinked several times, forcing a sense of calm to wash over her. They needed to move. Others were still out there. "It fits perfectly."


At that, Helene placed the mouth flap over her face and nothing but her eyes peered out upon the one man she knew, yet did not. She looked directly into Talgar's eyes. If only he knew of her dreams...but that would only make him detest her more. Averting her eyes, she took a step back.

"I saw the other 'thopter," Helene spoke, not wanting Talgar to think she wasn't aware of their situation. "I am sorry for the danger I've placed us in, for the danger I've placed you in."

~~~

Ghani pulled back from Leto's embrace and looked into her brother's eyes. Just what was it that he knew? She couldn't dare ask, though she desperately wanted to. Times had changed and things no longer were as they'd been when they'd been children. Back then, they could tell each other anything without fear of the other running...but now? Now, Ghani knew better. She knew exactly what Leto was capable of. He'd grown into a man surpassing that even of the great Mahdi. He was the God-Emperor. He saw things, knew things.

And he wasn't going to tell her. He wasn't going to explain.

Ghani sniffled, tears rolling down her pale cheeks, as she looked at her brother, so desperate for answers. "I will," she promised, though she still was uncertain as to how she'd keep it. For years she'd tried to love Farad'n, but it was hard to love someone who came from such hate. His own mother had caused so much sorrow and hardship for them all and then there had been Irulan. Her blood ran cold as she thought of the Corrino princess who'd dared try and seduce her beloved Trebor. She'd been right to send the bitch away and she was proud of her son for seeing through such schemes.

How could anyone expect her to love a Corrino? To feel true passion for anyone from such a house that caused nothing but heartache for her family?

It was insane!

"For you, dear brother...I will try," Ghani said, her voice a bit stronger, though her heart faltered. She thought on Helene, her precious daughter gone from her sight. How could this be unless she was dead, but she wasn't ready to accept that fate. Not yet, not so soon. For several moments she wept against Leto's shoulder before pulling away again. She wiped at her eyes, damp and bright. She gave Leto a nod. "Only for you, will I go to him."

Ghani stood up, her eyes fixed upon Leto's. She knew he'd seek refuge back in desert once more—his home, his sanctuary. And, as promised, she would go find Farad'n.

There was no comment forthcoming from the Fremen as Helene spoke; instead he only nodded his acknowledgement of her observation. It was good that she'd noticed it; it meant she was aware of her surroundings and the dangers within it. Better that than her be oblivious. Tal also noted the way she'd remained quiet as he'd adjusted her stillsuit, the way she'd held still for him, the way she seemed to pay attention to how the suit had been adjusted...and her acceptance of the increased firmness of the fit around her. So far, he had to concede a grudging acceptance of her capability to receive knowledge, and of her ability to accept instruction and direction.

His eyes appraised her for a couple of seconds longer, before he nodded again and moved to sit in the pilot's chair of the small 'thopter. He heard her apology as he sat, and he paused for a second, before his head turned to regard her as she moved to sit in the chair next to him.

"We Fremen are always in some kind of danger," he replied philosophically, although the tone of his voice carried a hard edge to it. "Whether from the desert, or worms, or the Harkonnen, or the Atreides, or the Spacing Guild...there is always someone wishing harm on us. It is why we are a tough, hardy people. You, personally, have not placed me in danger; your circumstances may have directed additional danger my way, but not you yourself."

His hands danced over the controls of the craft, and soon the whirring of the engines could be heard. He fed power to the wings, tested the control surfaces, saw them respond as they should.

"Ravis - the man who walked into the desert earlier - leaves behind a wife and two children...a son and a daughter," he added quietly as he prepared to get them under way. "They need your pity more than I. Hold on...I'll start us on our journey."

Carefully the craft lifted, wobbled slightly as the ground no longer held it before stabilising. He nudged the throttles forward and the little bug-like vehicle edged out from under its shelter. The rocks slid past the windows and out of sight, then they were clear. Tal resisted the urge to push the throttle harder - that could be a giveaway to their location and presence. Instead he remained low and slow, almost crawling away from the city. It might get them some more time before they were discovered.

"Fahri - Ravis' wife - will need to be told what happened to him; that task will fall to me," he added, sounding more like he was now thinking out loud. Then he turned to look directly at Helene. "She may hold you indirectly responsible for his death, although she will not act on it."

* * * * *

Leto smiled warmly at Ghani as she agreed - at least to him - that she'd go to Farad'n. "Thank you, Ghani," He replied quietly. "Remember: he may be Corrino by blood, but even he recognises that his own family has done wrong by we Atreides, and others. He was taught by our grandmother, Jessica - if anyone can curb the ways of Corrino in him, it is her."

He placed his inhumanly-strong hands on her shoulders and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Trust me when I ask you to give him a chance to be more than you believe him to be. You will not be disappointed."

Of course, there were so many levels upon which he knew she'd have her faith restored, but he could openly tell her none of it; to do so would cause ripples in the Golden Path, and humanity needed to be guided along this path. The Golden Path was a reformation humanity needed: his father had seen it but shied away from it, unwilling to make the hard decisions necessary; Leto knew that the hard choices would make him reviled for millennia after he was gone, but humanity would be better for it.

He watched Ghani leave, almost reluctantly, then he turned to look at the desert. He'd go out tonight, run over the dunes as only he could; he had to do it while his legs still functioned as legs. In a few hundred years his legs would stop being useful as such.

Helene nodded and moved to get inside the 'thopter Talgar and his companion had hidden away for them in their little hideaway by the outcrop of rocks. Her heart was pounding as she braced herself for an inevitable future and path that began to unfurl itself before her. She looked outside, her thoughts wondering if the others involved would remain safe or if they'd died when the marketplace had been reduced to nothing but ash. Her mother's friend was dead as was Talgar's companion. How many more would die in the name of Atreides? Her heart told her that the decoys she'd seen in the hall had already met a terrible end. She felt an ache in her chest as the bile began to rise... It was that feeling she knew all too well when danger was near, one she couldn't ignore no matter how much she longed to, no matter how hard she tried.

Talgar eased the 'thopter out into the open, flying low over the sands at an easy pace. Still, Helene gripped tightly to the armrests of her seat, her muscles tense as more than once her eyes fluttered shut. She knew that other 'thopter was close. Visions of what happened in Arrakeen filled her mind, but she pushed them out as she watched the sandy dunes rise and lower ahead of them. Glancing over at Talgar, she placed all of her trust in the Fremen. He'd see them both to safety. He had to. She just wished she could better hide the reactions her body seemed to be having. They only worsened when she caught sight of the other 'thopter.

"There!" Helene whispered harshly, though she didn't move from her seat, her hands still holding tight to the armrests. No matter how much reason and logic her mind seemed to bear, her body reacted of its own free will. Despite her tension, she found herself trusting Talgar's skill. Maybe it was the dreams, the way his hands had felt when they'd touched her. Maybe it was something more. But she held onto that and began to recite the litany of fear in her head. She could only hope that her reactions weren't seen as weakness when she was already very aware that she her lack of experience was cause for disadvantage. Hopefully, it proved that she understood what they were up against. "Do you see them?"

Helene was certain that Talgar saw them, her words merely confirming what the Fremen already knew. But, she had to keep her mind going, the litany chanting over and over as her thoughts spun over, her eyes flitting to watch Talgar as he prepared for the inevitable—engaging the enemy!

~~~

Ghani slowly padded away from her brother, leaving him to retreat back into the deserts that had become his new home. She'd never get used to being separated from him as she was, but she understood. It was the one thing she dared herself to understand, though she did not like it. With a resigned sigh, she headed toward the darkened staircase and began the climb back up to where she knew Farad'n would be waiting. A part of her dreaded seeing the Corrino prince, her consort through politics and the will of her brother's. He'd given her several children, all of them precious and dear. Her youngest were having arrangements made where they would find safety and sanctuary in one of the sietches friendly with the Atreides family. It was for the best and what she wanted. She also knew Leto approved.

When Ghani reached the top of the stairs, she held the frills she'd stripped off that were nothing but pomp and show for any who might have infiltrated the Keep. She tossed them aside on the stone floor knowing that they'd be tended to. She then made her way to her bedchambers, the place where Farad'n would be. Leaning her weight into the door, she pushed it open. She saw Farad'n's shadow before she caught sight of him. As she entered, she pushed back her hood and looked into his eyes, her own glowing blue like the Fremen she was.

"How fare you," Ghani asked, her eyes damp with tear. It was hard to hold them back. She thought of Leto and his words to her just before she'd left him. "I cannot see her," she admitted and a tear rolled down her cheek. With a angry swipe, she brushed it away. Did Farad'n truly feel this love? How much did her brother know that he refused to share? They were questions she knew she'd never have answered. Not unless she walked her own path.

So far the other 'thopter - higher up and a couple of clicks away - hadn't seemed to be concerned by them. It seemed to be content to follow a random search pattern, one that didn't seem to include the area Tal was flying in. Maybe a slow-flying craft didn't warrant attention - slow flight didn't generally indicate hurry, after all. But something made them take interest. Tal had no idea what it was, but he saw, about the same time that Helene spoke up, the other craft turning around to head in their direction. Tal kept his slow, low course a long as he could, hoping that the other 'thopter was merely checking them out; but when the other craft began to descend and take what looked to be an intercept trajectory towards them, he knew their safety time had run out. They'd been flying for maybe fifteen, twenty minutes when the other craft turned on them; long enough to put good distance between themselves and the city.

Tal pushed the throttle forward, and the small craft lurched to its full speed...which wasn't a lot, but enough to make it somewhat more difficult for the other craft to catch up. He remained silent as he focussed on piloting the small craft, and he saw that the other craft had dropped to their altitude and was keeping pace. The other craft was behind...but not far enough for Tal to be happy.

The 'thopter lurched suddenly, rocked as something hit it. "By the maker...! They've got weapons on their 'thopter. They're firing at us." There was a hard edge to his voice as he worked hard on forcing the 'thopter to do his bidding, something made more difficult by the sudden change in aerodynamics of the craft. Then he grinned savagely...

"Look, ahead..." In the distance, the sky was turning dark and sandy. "Storm...good to hide in. If we can make it." The storm wasn't too far away, but far enough that their 'thopter might not get there. All he had to do was get close to the edge of it...

The 'thopter rocked again, and a small alarm sounded inside their vehicle. Tal knew at one they would be grounded before they could get to the storm's edge. "We're hit, badly," he announced. "We're not going to get to the safety of the storm, but we'll be close. Hold on..." As best he could, he nursed the craft down, but, when they finally met ground, they landed hard. The occupants of the 'thopter were bounced around slightly as the craft skidded over the waves of sand, but they managed to keep their seats. Their craft wasn't going to fly again - what the hostile fire had begun, the storm would finish. The storm was maybe a click away from them, and coming their way - it would pass by them, but they'd be caught in it.

"Stay here...I'm going to bring them down." He reached into a small compartment under his chair, rummaged around for a couple of seconds, then withdrew a heavy pistol. He looked at Helen as he stood from his chair, placed a hand firmly on her shoulder...then pushed the door open, secured his face-flap of his stillsuit, and went outside.

Almost immediately, the strong winds buffeted the interior of the downed 'thopter, blowing sand dust around the inside of the small craft. Tal was apparently unaffected by the wind as he stepped outside, his body braced to resist the winds. Visibility was already reduced, but hopefully not enough to...there! He could see the other 'thopter, hovering nearby, looking to see if they needed to close in. They hadn't seen him...he raised his pistol, aimed, fired, twice, and again. He could see the other 'thopter react to his shots, crashing heavily to the ground maybe a hundred meters away. Had he gotten lucky and killed their pilot? Hopefully. In any case, the craft wasn't taking off again; it, too, was grounded for the storm. He turned and ducked his head inside the cockpit.

"The storm is almost here!" he called out, having to raise his voice over the noise of the wind and the hissing of the sand to be sure Helen could hear him. "We have maybe fifteen minutes before we must take shelter! In the Fremkit is a tent; get it out, be sure it is ready to be pitched, make sure the kit is ready to be used. I'll go and check the other craft, take care of the occupants, then come back. We'll have to pitch the tent on the leeward side of the 'thopter and wait the storm out before we can keep going." He set the pistol down on the floor near the doorway so Helene could reach it if need be, then he turned and disappeared from view.

The trip to the other 'thopter wasn't long, but it wasn't easy when fighting the winds of a storm. He reached it in a minute, saw that he'd shot the cockpit windows out. The pilot was dead in his chair, slumped over, blood trickling from a hole in his forehead. No stillsuit...the pilot wasn't planning on landing outside the city. Stupid off-worlder. No sign of any other occupants. He placed his hand on the hilt of his knife and slowly made his way around the rear of the craft...and startled the other person who was standing at the rear of the craft, apparently trying to work out what to do next. Tal's knife was in the man's chest before the other man could react. The craft looked to carry only two occupants...and both had been accounted for. He was tempted to look through the craft to see what could be salvaged, but there was no time; if he looked for salvage, he'd never get back to Helene.

The wind was gusting harshly around him as he made his way back to his downed 'thopter. He'd been gone longer than he should have been; they had very little time left. He had to shout to make his voice heard.

"Helene Atreides! We have to pitch that tent now!"

* * * * *

The dark-haired man was in the bedchambers he shared with Ghani. Shared...barely occupied. He knew that Ghani had still not warmed to him, even after all the years that had passed, all the children they'd reared. He had accepted his role as Ghani's consort and Leto's scribe, accepted the name Leto had bestowed upon him - Harq al-Ada - with grace and respect. He knew his lot wasn't going to be easy. But it would be easier if Ghani had let him try...if only she'd open herself to look past his Corrino blood. It wasn't his fault that his mother, Wensicia, had been a large part of the plot against Leto and Ghani when they were children; hells, he'd even granted Leto's demand that the Sardaukar be handed over to the Emperor's control.

Farad'n heard Ghani approach before he heard the door open; the Bene Gesserit training given him by Jessica saw to that. He turned to look at his wife-in-body (if not in spirit or name) as she closed the door behind her and actually asked how he was doing. How to answer that? Helene was killed by a Stone Burner; for all that they'd tried to save their daughter by using now-dead decoys, Helene had still been killed. It was...difficult, and he could only hope that she could see that in his eyes. But he tried to be the rock for her that she needed...the rock his children wanted Ghani to allow him to be.

"You give water to the dead," he replied softly, using the Fremen phrase to hopefully show her that he understood how deeply this hurt her. He lifted a hand to her face, lightly brushed away another tear with his thumb. He didn't have that Fremen conditioning against shedding tears, and his own started to slowly trickle from the corners of his eyes.

"I'm sorry, Ghani," he whispered, in part to stop his voice from cracking. "We did all we could to..." There was no point in saying more; they'd done all they could, but it hadn't been enough.

Helene had heard stories of the way her uncle had taken to piloting. All too often, he'd make Irulan's knuckles turn white, her face turn ashen as he flew over the protective walls of Arrakeen and out over the deserts of Dune. Her mother had told her about their encounters with the great worms, coming so close that she could smell faint traces of cinnamon. How magical those moments must've been...magical and terrifying! To see Irulan's face would've been worth it, though the woman was somewhere off-world, on some crisp and cool planet biding her time. She'd seen the woman in her dreams on occasion, still raw over the fact that her affections had been spurned not once, but twice by the Atreides bloodline. She'd all but lost their love, their friendship. Everything.

"I will face my fear..." Helene breathed as she watched the open desert before her and trusted Talgar to fly the 'thopter to safe ground.

Just then there was a jolt. Helene let out a soft sound, her hands holding ever tighter to the armrests at her sides. Whoever was pursuing them knew she was inside. They had no plans of letting them get any further. She turned to look at Talgar, his face determined as he expertly piloted the tiny craft just as she knew her uncle would've done. Up ahead, she saw the sand storm. Only one thing didn't fear the great storms of the desert.

Shai'Hulud.

"You can't be serious," Helene said out loud, though mostly to herself. Her words were a breath, barely audible. But she knew this was their only chance. Talgar was Fremen, desert creature—like her mother and her grandmother before her. If anyone would see she survived such an onslaught, it would be this man who sat beside her. She closed her eyes, recited the litany she'd been taught and saw Talgar's face just as she did in her dreams. His eyes were fierce, but there was that smile...subtle and soft as his hands reached out. Just as she always did, she reached back, her hands finding his as he pulled her somewhere safe, somewhere familiar.

When Helene opened her eyes, they'd lost altitude. There was another jolt, alarms sounding all around and Talgar was readying the 'thopter for a crash. She bounced in her seat, her body bracing itself for impact. The craft hit the sands hard, sliding across dunes, scarring the sands. If not for the storm, she was certain the sound would've summoned a great worm, but perhaps nature was on their side rather than against it. Talgar wasted no time. He was up, grabbing a pistol and moving to head outside. Helene knew she must wait, his expression said it all, his words and actions only confirmed it.

Talgar opened the door, wind and sand blowing into the tiny space within the 'thopter. Helene brought up her own face-flap, followed by her hood. The sand threatened to sting her eyes, but she managed not to get anything in them. Once Talgar was gone, she set to searching for needed supplies. He'd mentioned a Fremkit and tent. She nodded, remembering what those were. Her mother had shown her once when she was little and Talgar had pointed them out just before boarding.

Right. She could do this. She had to. For her family. No...for Talgar and herself.

Helene found what she was looking for and clutched them close. Peering outside, she could see that the storm was close. They had so little time before it would be upon them and then what? Shai'Hulud. Only the great worms of the desert didn't fear its sand storms.

Uncle Leto.

Uncle Leto didn't fear them either. Helene knew this in her heart. Her uncle stopped fearing them years ago. Just then a shiver ran down her spine and she heard a familiar voice call out her name. Immediately, her head perked up and she moved outside, the winds hard and sand whipping at her small body. It was difficult to stand, to move, but she managed. Barely. She held on to the precious supplies and allowed her eyes to find Talgar across the way. They needed to pitch the tent...and by the maker, she'd see that it was done.

With all her might, Helene remembered back to the days of her childhood when her mother had showed her what she'd known and she began to run on instinct, hoping that it would somehow be enough.

~~~

Ghani just stood there, feeling so unsure and so very vulnerable. She'd lost a child, her others scattered all over, so far away that she couldn't embrace any of them. It was unfair even if a necessary sacrifice. She was beside herself, wanting to place blame and at a loss as to where it belonged. She'd promised Leto she'd try, but her heart was so full of sorrow. Sorrow, yet longing. Was she capable of being loved? She hardly knew. She'd been called an abomination, so many hated her, her family, her children. The Corrinos and Harkonnens had been trying to destroy them for generations...to end them once and for all! They'd stop at nothing to see them come to an end. As she looked at Farad'n, his own face unsure, she didn't know what to think.

For the first time, Ghani felt confusion. Farad'n stepped closer, his hands ever gentle as he moved to touch her, to brush away her unnatural tears. She sensed his hesitance, his attempt to try and speak in a way she'd possibly like even if it came off all wrong on his tongue. Oh, to think she caused this. She truly did want to weep, to mourn and not just for her lost child.

"Shh...no more words," Ghani whispered, her eyes clamping shut. She'd reduced Farad'n to a shell. She was no worse than her grandmother, than Irulan. Her heart twisted. "I did this," she spoke softly before opening her eyes. "Didn't I?" Her blue-in-blue eyes, for once, sought answers. "I...I'm so sorry," she went on, her knees starting to give out beneath her. "I've never done all that I could. I..." Her voice trailed and she thought of her brother and his words. "I've never tried." She took a step closer. "We both lost her. I..." She looked down at the ground, unable to hold Farad'n's gaze. "I am pre-born, yet I am so blind."

The winds kept picking up around them as they pulled the Fremkit and tent from the ‘thopter. Tal grabbed the stilltent – leaving Helene with the smaller, lighter Fremkit – and dragged it around the crashed ‘thopter, putting them somewhat in the small craft’s windshadow.

“We’ve got maybe five minutes before the winds will be too strong to let us get this up,” Tal called out, not quite shouting to make himself heard. “This is only going to be a small storm, but the sand it carries will still rip the flesh from your bones if we don’t get in cover.” As he spoke he was working quickly on unpacking the tent – quickly, but not hurriedly. Working hurriedly would be as bad as not putting the tent up. Quickly as they could, the tent was up – it was more solid than it first looked, and being anchored against the ‘thopter gave it additional strength. The tents were only made for two people; Talgar knew it was going to be a snug fit for the pair of them.

The winds were getting stronger around them as the two people – strangers, really – worked to get the tent up and secured. Gusts and bursts drove sand around them, stinging what skin was exposed, whipping cloaks around them into a flapping frenzy. The ‘thopter’s weight was their only chance of not losing the tent, and it was a race between the weight of the sand and the strength of the wind as to whether the ‘thopter would remain in place to keep their tent secure. Eventually the tent was up, secured as best they could, and Tal was pushing Helene inside, then stepping in behind her and sealing the tent from the inside.

“As long as the ‘thopter holds in place, we should be okay,” he advised loudly, still having to raise his voice to be heard over the wind and hissing sands as he pulled his face flap away and drank from the catch-pockets in his suit. “We’ll have to sit here until the storm blows itself out, or moves on. It should only be an hour or two. But I’m not continuing our journey until night. While we’re on foot, we move by night and rest by day.” Then his voice took on a slightly-harder edge to it. “The changes your uncle is making to the planet are slowly taking some of the heat from the day cycle, but it’s not cooled enough that you can spend a long time outside and not suffer.”

It was only then that he settled and sat down properly, his legs crossed in front of him. His blue-in-blue eyes gazed impassively at her, almost as if he was looking at a rock he hadn’t seen before.

“This would be a good time to review what you may or may not know…so I know how much learning you have to take inside that water-filled off-world head of yours.”

* * * * *

“You’re not blind,” Farad’n replied quickly. He suspected she was referring to the prescience Leto had, but he chose not to refer to it. He didn’t understand it, anyway. “You couldn’t have known how far our enemies would go to…to hurt us.”

He took that final step that closed the distance between them, then gently reached out and slipped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace, easing her head onto his chest. He’d wanted to do this for a while, for so many years…but she hadn’t let him. Lying in bed with her…she’d just been doing her duty, hadn’t allowed herself – or him – to become close. That was how he felt it. Maybe she was slowly changing, but he wasn’t going to be pushy about it. If she was going to open up to him, it would be in her own way and time.

“You’ve always tried for our children, Ghani,” he told her quietly. “You’ve always been there for them. They know this. So do I.”

Helene eyed the 'thopter. It would hold. Somehow, she knew it would. Clutching tightly to the Fremkit, she watched on with great intent as Talgar finished erecting the stilltent that would provide them both shelter as the sands ferociously whipped about their straining bodies. She could only hope they weren't buried alive once the storm passed them by. Already, the tiny grains were stinging the parts of her face that were exposed to the heated air and fierce winds. She squinted her eyes and crouched low to the ground. The winds weren't nearly so bad the lower she managed to stay against the swelling dunes, ebbing and flowing like dusty currents. She reached out and did her best to help whenever Talgar needed. Once everything was ready, she was more than eager to get inside and out of the terrifying winds.

Talgar gave Helene a firm shove and she felt her legs give way of their own accord. The inside of the stilltent was snug, the winds howling outside like the loud roars of the great sandworms her uncle knew and loved. She remained low and curled up into a small ball, though her hands worked her face-flap free, her lungs grateful to breathe fresh air even if from inside a tiny stilltent. It was hard to hear her Fremen companion over the sounds of the winds as they shook and shuddered their tent, the 'thopter rattling as it held their shelter securely in place the more the winds picked up, the more the sands beat against the tent walls like a pounding thumper. There was a fleeting moment where she worried the tent would be ripped away, exposing them both to the harsh anger of the desert as she cried out in agony, furious at what the Atreides had brought upon her—change.

But, just like she'd already known...it held.

"I understand," Helene responded. She remembered her mother speaking of her childhood, of how it was safer to travel the deserts by night as opposed to day. The sun's heat was far too dangerous, even now with the unwelcome cooling that was ruining everything, changing...everything.

Helene sat back slightly, her blue-in blue eyes watching Talgar carefully. The Fremen just seemed to be studying her, his face drawn, while the winds blew and the tent shuddered. She turned away the moment he spat his insult. She wished he wouldn't say such things, not when she was so desperate to learn and so remorseful for all her family had brought upon Arrakis. Her family had never intended to destroy a way of life, a culture. Everyone in her bloodline had loved the planet, the desert, its people. They'd been led by their visions, none of them understanding them.

Not until her uncle.

Trying to make her mother proud, Helene held back the tears. She didn't want to give Talgar another reason to spout his spite. Slowly, she pushed back her hood, her eyes still refusing to look upon his face, a face that she knew. But how could she? How could this man mean something when all there be was hate? She swallowed hard and licked at her lips. They were already dry, but it hardly mattered.

"I've learned how to properly put on and adjust my stillsuit," Helene began, reminded of how Talgar's hands had felt when they'd inspected her body—not her body, her stillsuit. "I'm pretty sure that I'll be of better help with the tent next time," she continued. Carefully, she drew her crysknife. "I need help with this," she said softly, too softly. Her mother's friend had given it to her. In her heart, she knew he was gone. "I've never used one." It was an admission and the neglect was hardly her fault. Her younger years were spent under the supervision of Irulan, the Corrino princess ensuring that all Fremen culture was quashed from the Atreides upbringing. Meanwhile, she'd had her sights set on her oldest brother. Fortunately, her mother had noticed and after many tears between she and her father...the woman was sent elsewhere. Though, by that time, she'd lost ample opportunity to learn and the troubles began. It was around that time that she was separated from her siblings, a time when life forever changed.

Doing her best to hold back the tears, Helene looked back at Talgar. Would he teach her? Or would he let his hate guide his every decision? It was hard to know, her dreams confused her senses and left her feeling raw and vulnerable. She needed his help and a part of her wanted it, though it was clear he wanted no part of her.

"I...I learn fast," Helene spoke. "I want to learn."

~~~

Ghani let Farad'n embrace her and she let herself become embraced, though he completely misunderstood. While true, she could no longer see their daughter, he did not realize that she was referring to him...to them. She'd caused him much suffering and he'd shouldered it all. Slowly, she pulled away and looked into his eyes. For several long moments, she just stared into his eyes—studying and searching. There was so much she never allowed herself to see and mainly because she never dared to look.

"But I..." Ghani began. "I've never been there for you." She felt a lump form in her throat. Leto had been right. She'd never given Farad'n a chance and the man, her consort, a Corrino prince, had deserved that and more. Not once had he complained about his station and, at each and every turn, he was always there. Their children adored him. She'd seen the way they flocked to his side whenever he was around, the way their faces dimmed the day she needed to hide her other children away. She'd hoped things would turn out differently with Helene, her prescience so strong...but it hadn't mattered. Not in the end.

Ghani licked her lips, her eyes looking past Farad'n and to the large table in the middle of their bedchamber. An artistic piece was sprawled out on top of it, the colors swirling together so beautifully, capturing her attention the moment she noticed it.

"Did you make this?" Ghani asked as she gestured toward the skillfully made masterpiece. "It...it's beautiful." There was so much she didn't know. She looked up into Farad'n's eyes, her delicate hand reaching up to gently touch his face. "I...I didn't know." Another tear fell. "There's so much I don't know," she admitted. "So much I must learn." She inched closer to her consort, as if waking from a long slumber. "Teach me, Farad'n. Let me be there for you, as I always should have been."

Fremen eyes narrowed slightly as the young woman presented the crysknife, followed by an admission of lack of knowledge in its use - or the use of any knife as a fighting weapon, Tal presumed. The giving of such a blade to a non-Fremen, especially one who had no idea of its use...

"You've been given a gift, young Atriedes," he observed quietly - or as quietly as he could and still be heard over the noise of the storm outside. "A crysknife - the blade of a Fremen warrior - is given to Fremen, and only rarely to outsiders. A Fremen starts training in their use when they are six years of age. An outsider...has to earn such a weapon. The blades are fashioned from the teeth of a maker - a worm - crafted and honed to a fine edge. Once Fremen were hunted for their blades, and holding such a blade was seen as a trophy, a badge of honour by off-worlders. It was thought that a crysknife, blue-in-blue eyes, and a stillsuit would make a person able to infiltrate our sietches, to let them spy on us. Such people were always caught out by their knowledge of the desert."

He remained still and silent for a moment, continuing to stare intently at the young woman, studying her carefully. He was appraising her, he knew: there was potential in her, and if she was as keen to learn as she'd stated, then she may yet prove her worth to the tribe. Ravis would have known more, would have known just what this woman was to do in the sietch...but Ravis was not with him. Ravis had walked into the desert to die, so that this woman could live. He knew his earlier insult had hit her, just from the way she'd turned her head to the side. Had he intended to cause that reaction? He couldn't say. He also knew that, in Ravis' absence, he would have to be more mindful of this woman; she would pass to him in Ravis' absence.

"Ghanima," he reflected, almost randomly, a slightly-different inflection in his voice as he uttered the word. "It means 'spoil of war'. Your mother was called that by the Mahdi, recognising that she was born from strife and battle that claimed her mother. It is likely that you will become my 'ghanima', given that you passed into my care during the fighting that claimed Ravis. As 'ghanima', you will be my responsibility to look after, my responsibility to care for...my responsibility to teach. As my 'ghanima', I will be responsible to ensure you act in the good of the tribe, and I will carry the weight of any mistakes you make."

He paused, then took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

"I will begin schooling you in the use of a blade when we reach sanctuary," he offered firmly. "Not here, not now. For now, there will be other things you will need to learn. We have a long journey ahead of us, yet, beyond the equator of Arrakis. By 'thopter, a good number of hours at least. On foot...we will have to ride a worm, maybe three. They do not like being ridden for excessive periods, they get tired. You will start learning about the desert as we travel. For now, we rest, and wait the storm out. Once the storm has gone, we will begin your study."

* * * * *

There were a number of things he could have said in response to Ghani's comment about not being there for him, he knew...but he chose to say none of them. Farad'n knew that the wiser course of action was to let her comment go without rebuke. He could have taken the moral high-ground, but that would have been just petty, especially in the here and now, in this moment of grief and sadness. He merely shook his head dismissively. He was content enough that she'd accepted his embrace, had even settled into it. The light touching of her hand to his cheek was…stimulating, pleasantly so., and he found his thumb again moving to carefully brush the tear away as it slowly rolled down her sun-kissed skin.

Then she looked to that artwork he'd made. His hands had been bored on that occasion, and he'd chosen to occupy them by making...something. It had turned out to be a miniature hawk, similar to the animal that was the symbol of House Atreides; carved into soft sandstone, it had been fashioned remarkably well, the animal standing upright and proud with folded wings, and had been hardened and polished upon completion. The stone itself have provided light and shadow effects, and the polishing finish had somehow enhanced the effect.

"It's nothing special," he replied modestly. "The stone and finish make more of it than it probably deserves. I did study something of craftwork when I was a child - as a prince and heir to a House Major, I was expected to have a wide variety of skills and knowledge and talent. I could show you how I did-" He stopped abruptly as he realised...she probably wasn't referring to the stone. He'd already misinterpreted her once, he knew, and he was possibly about to do so again. His cheeks flushed slightly.

"-but you weren't referring to the artwork...were you?" It was phrased as a question, his voice quieter than earlier...but it wasn't a question that needed to be answered. Not with words, anyway. He took a gamble...he gently curled a forefinger and used it to tilt her head up slightly, then placed a soft and tender kiss on her lips. It was a brief kiss, one followed by a firm and comforting - he hoped - embrace.

"I've always been there for you, Ghani," he murmured quietly.

Helene's eyes fixed upon the blade she held in her hands. She knew very well what it was worth and what it had meant when the Fremen had given it to her. He hadn't merely been providing her a means of self-defense, but something far more profound. Like her mother and uncle, they'd seen something in her, wanted more for her. How that Fremen had known was a mystery. Perhaps it was his ties to her mother. More than likely, Ghanima's influence had played a role. She remembered the way the Fremen's face had softened when he'd looked at her, had mentioned just how much she reminded him of the mother she left behind. Her fingers curled around the handle, getting a feel for the way it felt against them, the way it felt as it rested in her palm. The weight somehow seemed designed for her.

Had it?

Swallowing lightly, Helene managed to look up into Talgar's harsh and judging eyes. They saw through her, penetrating her soul, leaving her raw and bare. She might as well be out in the sand storm as the sand ripped the flesh from her bones, scattering bits of muscle and sinew across the desert dunes. But...he was willing to teach her. He was willing to consider her his responsibility, his student, his charge. A tiny wave of heat rippled along her skin and settled in her tummy as she pondered the notion. She nodded, head bobbing gently as her golden red curls moved about her pale face.

"I will watch you," Helene spoke, though her voice was soft. "I will do as you do." She blinked and shifted her position, bringing the crysknife close, almost cradling it. "I will learn the Fremen way." She pursed her lips and then put the crysknife away.

The tent continued to rattle about them, the winds howling as the 'thopter groaned against the beating sands. Helene knew they'd be safe, though she wondered what would come once nightfall came upon them. She'd never seen the great worms up close and now was expected to ride one. If only her life hadn't just begun, but there was no use in dwelling on what was past.

"For Ravis," Helene said. "F-for you..." she looked away. "I will be an asset to your sietch and," she paused a moment, biting down on her lower lip as she mustered up her courage. "I will try and right whatever wrongs my family might brought upon you. I...I don't know how, but I'll show you that Atreides mean no harm."

Honestly, Helene didn't expect Talgar to accept her words. After all, nothing but destruction had fallen upon Arrakis and its people since her family took the throne. She half expected him to silence her, to laugh. But she felt better having told him her own intent, even if she had to spend the rest of her life proving her worth. Not wanting to face his reaction, she immediately set herself to rest. She removed her cloak and bunched it up as a makeshift pillow. She then lied down and closed her eyes, though she hated that she could feel the rush of heat forming on her cheeks.

~~~

The stone hawk was marvelous. Ghani had no idea her consort was so talented and skilled in the ways of such things. She was intrigued and remorseful she hadn't noticed sooner. Looking into Farad'n's eyes, she couldn't help but smile, her head shaking slightly as he moved in close to kiss her, his arms strong and warm as he hugged her tightly against his chest.

"I know you have," Ghani stated, her voice almost a whisper. "And I've been distant, led by something I should have shared with you, yet never did." She brought both hands up to Farad'n's face. It was as if she were looking at him for the first time. "I'm burdened by my prescience, by the voices and ancestors that live within me," she started. "It is something I've always kept to myself out of fear and..." she sighed, her lips turning upward into a small smile. "And you've always wanted me to let you in. You've always wanted to share it."

Ghani thought on Leto, on how her brother ran through the deserts, his skin no longer his own. He ran and ran and came to her almost every night. He'd share what he could, but times were changing. They were no longer children and the time had come where he needed to walk his path and she needed to walk hers. She wasn't bound to the same fate as he, something he'd made sure of. He'd spared her, had given her a chance at life, at happiness. She wouldn't let his sacrifice be in vain.

"In my heart, I know you are not to blame," Ghani continued. "Not for your family or their deed." She could feel that strange dampness welling in her eyes once again. "Of all people, I understand this." Her own family had its legacy; the Fremen divided all because of her father—the great Mahdi. "All these years, Farad'n, I..."

Ghanima felt her body tremble, her eyes searching Farad'n's face as she looked up into his for answers. She had been blind, blind and terrified to walk her own path, to face her own destiny, to find love.

Ghani could still feel the heat of Farad'n's kiss upon her lips, the warmth of his arms as they held her. "Please," she spoke. "Forgive me."

A tiny smirk creased the Fremen warrior's lips as he watched her, as he listened to her. She was certainly eager to learn...to please. And that pleased him, in a way. Hearing that this red-haired girl, an off-worlder, was willing to apply herself to learning the ways of the Fremen and the desert...it sat well with him. He allowed the smirk to turn into a small, almost-knowing smile.

"We shall see, young Atreides," he agreed.

He watched as she pulled her cloak from her shoulders and rolled it up to rest her head upon. He had to admit to himself...she filled out the stillsuit very nicely. Although her body was lush and water-fat, and not lean like a Fremen's body, there was a certain sensuality to her form that he found appealing. It was curious that he found her so; he should not. It wasn't as if he had a woman waiting for him in-sietch, but he had never considered that he might feel any kind of attraction for this young woman, had never thought that he'd feel anything for her beyond annoyance and the demands of responsibility her presence would place upon him.

He took a slow, deep breath into his lungs, held it for a few seconds, released the breath equally slowly. He pushed back the hood of his cloak and removed it, rolled the cloak up into a head-rest much as Helene had done. The action revealed his head and face properly: short, close-cropped dark hair; lean face with strong and angled features; slightly-sunken cheeks; the brightness of his blue-in-blue eyes; a small yet pronounced nose. Like all Fremen, his skin was slightly weathered from exposure to the Arrakis deserts, and there was stubble on his face suggesting growth of maybe a week. He sipped slowly from the catch-pockets of his suit.

The winds of the storm were howling around them, and the hissing of sand assaulted their ears. Talgar was confident the tent and 'thopter would protect them from the death often brought by the storms. If the tent failed to protect them...they'd only feel pain for a minute or so. This might be a small storm, but it was no less dangerous for being small; once a storm had gathered momentum, the winds often reached speeds in excess of eight hundred clicks, making the sand particles they carried deadly to all except the worms...and even the worms took shelter sometimes. Talgar lay on his back and looked at the roof of the tent a scant meter above him, watched how it jerked and bustled in the wind eddies that swirled around the 'thopter.

"The desert is a wise but impatient teacher, young Atreides," he intoned slowly, an almost-reverent tone creeping into his voice as he spoke. "The desert does not care whether you are Fremen or off-worlder. The desert does not care if you remembered to fit your stillsuit properly before stepping out. The desert will treat all people equally in the face of her lessons. If you are prepared, if you treat her with respect, the desert will let you live. If not...the animals of the desert will live another day. They are harsh lessons, but they are lessons that all people should learn. From such lessons come respect. From such lessons come survival. We Fremen learned those lessons quickly when we first came to Arrakis millennia ago."

He was breathing slowly, regularly; his body was relaxed, but also in a state of readiness; he could leap into battle on a second's notice. He was listening to her as well, and could hear her breathing; she sounded to be controlling her breathing, making sure her body was calm.

"Tell me, young Atreides," he ventured finally, his curiosity unable to be denied. "What was it like, living in the water-rich palace? What was it like to have water whenever you wanted it?"

* * * * *

"I've never pretended to understand this gift you have, this ability to see glimpses of the future," Farad'n confessed, his arms still holding Ghani to him firmly. "All I can do is be there for you so you can at least lighten the burden it brings you. You don't have to tell me what you see; perhaps knowing the future creates it...or maybe denies it. Maybe not knowing is easier...I don't know."

He sighed quietly, his breath warm in the fine golden hair of her head, and his arms tightened around her slightly, giving her a gentle squeeze within the embrace.

"So...of course I forgive you," he added after a small period of quiet. "But you have to forgive yourself as well, Ghani. We need to be strong together. Our children...need us to be strong." His voice caught momentarily as he uttered that last sentence...he knew it was hard speaking of their offspring when one of them had just died, and he wouldn't be human if he'd found it easy.