The Bashir's Wife or How I Met Your Mother Sarduakar Style

Bashir Furon left his meeting with Piter De Vries unsettled. It was not his distrust of the Harkonnens that plagued him. No one trusted House Harkonnen. Something far more dangerous had entered Bashir Furon's mind. In a dark hidden corner what could be considered treason had formed. He did not completely trust his Emperor's judgement. Court intrigues were a way of life in the Padishah Empire, so had it been for generations and it was not the place of the Emperor's Blade to question. But this plan to favor House Harkonnen over House Atreides lacked apparent wisdom, especially when the supply of spice hung in the balance. Still Furon considered himself fortunate, unlike most Sardaukar he had one safe refugee where he could at least examine such anomalies in his thoughts. He could always talk to Yael, his wife. He often told himself that was the advantage of a women not born on Selusa Secondus. Sometimes women from different worlds brought new vitality and different, but useful skills.

He found Yael in the kitchen chopping vegetables. The sound of her welding the cleaver against the board had always been calming to Furon. Watching her split open a red cabbage or a melon with a single stroke was a thing of beauty. If she had been born a man, Yael might have been his rival for command or his commander even. More than fighting skills made a Sarduarkar Bashir. The mind was necessary. He knew Yael's mind was sharper than the menthat he had so recently spoken with. And that was only one of the reasons he needed her council.

He exhaled deeply. That was enough sound for her to know she was not alone. Yael stopped her cutting and turned around. She arched her eyebrows, surprised that he was in their quarters so early, but her gaze was strong and solid as warrior preparing for battle. Furon made his declaration. "Woman, you have two options. Use that blade to kill yourself or be my wife."

The cleaver sailed past, missing his right ear by only millimeters, and landing in its usual resting place on the kitchen wall; then, she was in his arms, so warm and more unconquerably pleasing to hold than even the finest sword.

"My husband," Yael said before kissing him. She was the only woman that Furon had ever wanted to kiss. And it was wonderful that she kissed more than most Sardaukar wives for her touch inspired greater than mating lust in him. He had no words for the strange desires he had discovered since marrying her. Furon only knew that when she was in his arms his spirits soared as they would in the aftermath of battle, but without the exhaustion. Well, without exhaustion until they had been alone for some time.

"Something troubles you or you would not have returned so early," Yael said.

He did not reply for a while preferring only to hold her. Since he often did that upon returning, she said nothing like a proper Sardaukar wife, but only moved her hands from his waist to his shoulders. She had such fine hands even after so many years, four sons, and a daughter. Yael said quality over quantity and in time, Furon, had come to believe she was right. They had fewer children than most families, but all their children still lived. "Will the children be here tonight for dinner," he asked finally.

"Of course, your sons are never subject to discipline," Yael replied.

Each of his sons was the leader of his age cohort. And the girl was exceptional too. Usually a daughter was not noticed, but his daughter, Deborah, seemed as special as her mother. She had the name of a warrior, Yael said. Furon wasn't sure about that, but history was vast and of little use to him. Perhaps sometime in the past, his daughter could have been a warrior, but Sardaukar women did not fight. He still remembered picking Deborah up for the first time and thinking, only the greatest Sardaukar shall be allowed to marry her.

The dinner was as proper a family meal as ever though Yael had retained odd practices from her life before him which made no sense. But because her meals were always pleasing, he did not ask why she drained all blood from meat or only served milk dishes with fish. Through the years of marriage, he had buried such curiosity in the farthest reaches of his mind. He knew there was a vast hidden side of her that he did not understand and he had noticed her habits among the children. He heard them recite words in a language he did not recognize. Only she could have taught them such secrets, but he did not interfere. Her strangeness had certainly had not hindered his sons' training. Perhaps it was useful. Over the years, he had learned that stealth was also important for a warrior something his Emperor seemed to have forgotten. Furon banished the treasonous thought again. Nothing would ruin this night.

After dinner was time for the recitation of family stories to valor to impress on young Sardaukar minds the importance of courage and ferocity. There were many great ones in their line, but the children asked for their favorite. Tell us about the day you found mother, they all clamored for that one. If it was only the boys, he would have insisted that first they recite some from the great list that stretched nearly as far back as the Butlerian Jyhad. But when Deborah asked for their mother's story, he could not refuse.

"I was a junior officer among commanders with many years of experience. At first, I thought the assignment was a punishment. Sardaukar do not guard prison transports. Such things were beneath our skills; then I learned these prisoners were the most successful spice smugglers known to history," Furon said. The children always grew spellbound silent at that point. Smugglers powerful enough to allude Imperial Law for generations were the greatest kind of criminals they could imagine.

"The prisoners were bound for the Harkonnen brothels, so preventing them from taking their own lives was our greatest task," Furon said. His children did not know truly know what a brothel was, but understood that it was a place of torture even more than ordinary horrors because it was connected with House Harkonnen. "Guarding prisoners was a task that we usually left to Imperial guards and used our spare time to train. Then word came of a section of the transport where guards went, but none ever reported back. It was a dark place where light was intermittent and food rations had not been delivered since our departure."

The children's eyes were round now. They had all heard about survival cannibalism. Furon continued speaking. "Displeased by the inadequate reports from the guards, I dispatched my two best warriors, men who had been among the greatest in my cohort, second and third only to me. My trust in them was absolute. Then, an hour later I was ready to have them executed for disobedience for they did not return either."

The children never questioned how Sardaukar could be capable of disobedience. They enjoyed the story too much. And truthfully, Furon found pleasure in it also, a pleasure he found in few other aspects of life. "I fought my way through a dozen death traps made even more deadly by the shreds of dead guards rotting on their blades. At the center of the carnage, I found the bodies of my best men cut upon like beasts in a slaughterhouse. The floor was slippery with entails. And there was your mother with a sword in her hand."

He still remembered every detail of the moment he first saw Yael. The sweat of battle had washed most of the blood from her skin though she stood in a pool of red. Others' blood, he realized instantly. There were no signs of wounds on her. She was luminous in victory. Her gaze had burned into him. "I will die before becoming a Harkonnen whore," she had said.

He must have gotten lost in the memory because Deborah grew impatient for the finale even though she knew every word of it. "And what did you do, Father? Tell us!"

His gaze went past the children to his wife. He saw the fire of a hundred burning cities in Yael's eyes. It had been so in that moment years ago which had changed their lives forever. Furon finished his part of the family tale. "I stared into her eyes and said woman you have two options. Use that blade to kill yourself or be my wife."

His sons always clapped as they did after an actor recited a famous battle speech. Deborah always squealed with happiness. She became even more happy when Yael finished the tale and told the children about coming to Selusa Secondus, how the people stared at her, how the other women whispered behind her back; then, the mothers of the two Sardaukar she had slain offered to make her wedding clothes. Yael had defeated two of their finest. She was infinitely fit to be a Sardaukar bride.

When the children went asleep, Yael took him to the washroom. She liked to shower with him. So many of her strange rituals seemed to have cleanliness at their roots. At first, he hadn't minded; then he came to crave it. Her ritual washing destroyed a barrier he did not realized existed for many years. The water washed away the remains of battle and left him a man without armor alone with his wife.

"I have never asked about your missions. It would be unbecoming of a Sardaukar wife, but you are tense with worry in a way I have never seen before. Such tension is dangerous to a warrior," she said.

He increased the flow of the shower and the under the roar of water whispered his secret doubts to her. For the first time since he married her, Yael's skin paled with fear. She bit hard on her lower lip, so that color returned to her face, and replied. "You are the emperor's blade. Those who stand against you fall," she said.

Then she took him into their bedroom and left him as exhausted as the most strenuous training regime. After he recovered, she brought tea, not wine for them. Her face was solemn beyond beauty. "Husband, you have never asked about my life before you and for that I have been grateful," she said.

"You always done your duty and been the perfect Sardaukar wife. What more could I ask of you? The past is nothing." He had told her something similar on their wedding night. Your past is nothing. You are my wife now. Every word of it burned as brightly for him as it had that night.

"Those who do not study the past, are condemned to repeat it. Sometimes the past gives, important clues for the future, so I must tell you what you need to know. My people were spice smugglers for many generations. I spent much of my life on Arrakis," she said.

He reached for her check, so smooth he could never comprehend how she was made so different than anyone else he had ever encountered. "You lack the blue eyes," he said.

"We brought all of our food from off world while on Arrakis," she said.

Having observed Yael's strangeness about food, he did not doubt the truth of that. Of course, after all these years, he did not doubt the truth of anything she said. "You have lived among the Harkonnens?" Furon asked. He had often expected as much.

"No, among the Fremen in their deep desert sietches. Fremen women taught me how to fight," she said.

Fremen women trained her. She had killed two Sardaukar in close quarter battle. No more need said. He wondered if even his Emperor knew as much about the Fremen as he did now.

Yael's eyes were sad. He never wanted to see that. He pulled her close. Her smoothness against his scars and he initiated the kiss this time. "I want to couple as often as we can until the morning comes," he said.

A smile came to her face now. "You need sleep," she said.

He initiated a second kiss. "I can sleep on a transport ship. I can sleep in a hidden Harkonnen barracks. Tonight, I am with my wife and I do not want to sleep. I want to relive the days after we were first married when we spent hours together without sleeping."

The morning's departure went as it should be. The massive columns of men like statues. Fathers solemnly giving final advice. Mothers with iron eyes saying come back with your shields or on them. It was all so perfectly Sardaukar, he should have drawn strength from the scene. Instead Furon felt the emptiness of losing men. He saw the men marching forward and his mind saw only bodies returning. If they returned. Yael had told him of the Fremen practice of harvesting water from the bodies of the dead. No doubt they did other things with the organic matter that remained after gathering the dead's water. Certainly, a Sardaukar would do so. He felt pain in his chest that should not exist. He had no injury. He was in perfect health, yet there was pain. Searing pain like he had never known. For the first time, ever Bashir Furon broke formation and jogged back to the crowd of families.

Yael's eyes were round with surprise. Had he made such a grievous breach of protocol years ago the punishment would have been death, but now that he was a Bashir it was merely scandalous.

"If I fall, take whatever action you think is best for our children, whether it is to stay here or rejoin your people," he said. And now the shock on her face was complete. "I know you have the means. You have always been the smartest woman I have ever encountered," he said.

She grew calm again and nodded. He had one last duty. Something so rare in Sardaukar marriages, it would be talked about, perhaps talked about so loudly and spread do far it would drown out the whispers of anything Yael did. He pulled her closer. She had been the only true perfection in his life. "One last thing, I love you."

She replied like a true Sardaukar wife. "I know," she said. And then she said the words that let him know she understood everything in his mind. "I have loved you," she said. Her lips burned his mouth with atomic fury. No rage had more power than this. No glory was greater. The emperor was nothing. The Bene Gesserits were fools and the Spice Guild had no power. As he walked back to the Transport ship, he already saw the Golden Path. My children will say strange prayers for me. They will tell different family tales than mine. And they will have better lives!

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