A/N: this is AU, but I'm just reminding you guys. I have added a new factor
(sort of) to Fremen Culture, called a Mi'kiyla. Not a big change, just a
way to get the plot to go where I need it to! Don't forget to
review!!!!!!!!!!
*******************************Flash Back*****************************************
"Come, sit with me," the softly modulated voice of Lady Jessica Atreides cut through the Prana Bindu meditation like a knife, subtly edged.
Raising her head to face her mentor, Chaysula Utaren rose from the floor mat. "As you wish, Reverend Mother," She sat herself down gracefully beside Lady Jessica, watching her new teacher with a certain awe. This was a woman who had done as she had, and had not only survived, but prospered.
"You know not where you shall be taken, isn't that right child?" Lady Jessica intoned, warmth creeping into her voice.
"No, I don't. It was said it was for the best, so I could not be condemned by a Truth-Sayer. I saw merit to it." She answered.
"And since have not inquired as to where you shall spend the rest of your days." added the Bene Gesserit.
"I don't plan to spend the rest of my days in exile." She explained succinctly, her tone belaying her hatred. Lady Jessica understood hatred. In Chaysula, she even encouraged it. When she and Paul had ventured into the deep desert, the hate pushed her forward, guided her towards survival, because her death was just too easy for those she wished to punish. She understood hate. Once the hate is gone, only purpose remains.
"Good." Jessica told her. "You know that I plan to visit my daughter and my grandchildren on Arrakis," Chaysula nodded, waiting for Jessica to continue. "I believe that you could build a life there, among the fremen. Your father wouldn't be able to mount an investigation, because the Emperium would deny him, seeing it as a threat, a maneuver to gain intelligence."
"but, the fremen would not allow it, I am not desert born, I'm a child of the savanna, surely-"
"I have already contacted those loyal to me in the desert. The first, of course is Stilgar. It seems that my first idea, of setting up a story, saying you are a niece of Stilgar's from a Rebel Sietch that had just been attacked would not do. Stilgar has informed me of the many attacks, but also of Alia's.furthering difficulties, making it even more dangerous for the Twins to be anywhere but the Sietch. It would not be advantageous to seek your exile-"
"I was supposed to wed him. Leto. Father had it all planned." Chaysula stated sadly.
Jessica chose to over-look the comment and proceed on the briefing that she had begun. "Yes. Well you are free of any path that you yourself do not choose anymore. Anyways, Stilgar has told me though that there have been an astounding number of Rebel sietches obliterated by Alia's men. It would be unwise to settle. The best cover you have is to become a Mi'kiyla."
Chaysula furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "what is a Mi'kiyla?" The word sounded interesting, mysterious, and Chaysula found herself intrigued.
"A Mi'kiyla is a wanderer. Often, and in the case of your cover story, during times of war, when sietches are wiped out, there are often survivors with no place to go, no relatives to accept them at their fire, and take them into their sietch, so they end up wandering the desert, learning the songs and the sacred dances of their people, and any other songs or dances that could entertain, stopping for a while at each sietch they pass, for the Naib is sworn by Fremen law to give sustenance and shelter to any Mi'kiyla that asks. In return, the Mi'kiyla is expected to entertain that sietch. A Mi'kiyla is only aloud to settle when a member of the Sietch asks his or her hand in marriage, or, on the rarer occasion, is offered a place within the Sietch, and is given full confidence of the Naib."
"And it would be best to become a Mi'kiyla because that way I would not be easy to find. And given the circumstances involved on Arrakis right now, the odds of a new Mi'kiyla are quite high. One more would not be noticed. I accept this. Thank you for going to such trouble for me, Lady Jessica. I admit, I was wary at first-"
"And you had need to be. Your life has not been easy, a double threat, living with a father such as yours, with no one to protect you, as well as attacks from other houses in the lansraad seeking to put an end to house Utaren. Wariness is not a fault. It is a skill most need to cultivate very thoroughly. You just had the misfortune to learn this early on. You're like your mother, more than just your appearance. You have her will, but I daresay more of it, and much more strength and determination than most women."
********************************************************************
The plan was made. The stage was set. Chaysula glanced nervously out the window of the Guild Transport ship, thinking if things could possibly get any harder. She had spent a month learning a great deal of Fremen songs, ancient and recent, to add to her repertoire of Songs that she had already learnt from the Savanna people, the Kyiries. Her finger-tips were calloused from spending so much time playing and practicing the balliset. She had learned all about riding a worm, she even had Jessica's old Maker-Hooks, and a new thumper attacked to a belt on her still-suit. The only thing left for her to do now was to put in the contacts she would need to pass for Fremen.
"Here I must leave you," the gentle voice of Lady Jessica softly broke into Chaysula's stream of consciousness, awakening her from her fears and her constant preparation. She looked up, underneath her burnoose, to gaze at her mentor. "Go to Sietch Tabr first. Even if the twins are there, you will only be a Mi'kiyla to them. Speak with Stilgar, he will teach you the correct way to ride a worm, although you seem to have grasped the basics nicely. Stilgar will give you information you need to know about the sietches, their allegiances, their alignment, details that will be useful to you. I wish you luck. May Shai-Halud clear the path before you, and the blessings of Muad'dib follow you on your journey."
She grasped Chaysula's small, young hand in hers, and looked into her eyes. "I'm counting on you. I must go." And with no more than that, she turned gracefully, and was followed by gurney, who paused to stop and deliver one last fleeting word of advice to Chaysula.
"You be tough girl. You are already. But You be tough. Oh, and by the way, your Kitty, Ankhar, the right beastie he is, he isn't from the desert. If anyone asks, just say your father got him from a smuggler. Tell'm I was the smuggler if you need to. Make up a story saying we were good friends or something. But be careful. I'll miss teaching you girl. You got a way with the balliset. It does my heart good to hear such sweet music playing from those strings." Gurney stooped over, and pressed a parting kiss on her forehead, in a fatherly gesture, straightening, and fallowing his lady.
"It's now or never," She told the small sandy colored kitten she clutched, putting Ankhar into a soft woven bag that slung across her shoulders and rested on her hip. The crowd began to cheer jubilantly, and she took her chance, opening the back hatch, and climbing discretely from the guild ship, mingling with the crowd. She pushed her way through to half- way, and lifted her now blue in blue eyes to see the spectacle as it played out before her, and, catching herself in a wistful moment, hoping to glance fleetingly at the man she would have been promised to.
Burly shoulders blocked her view, so she shifted to get a better look. He was medium height, built with whip-cord strength, a cat-like musculature. He looked strikingly like a caged animal; there was something fierce, something almost tangibly powerful in his stance. His eyes were deep set beneath dark brows, melancholy, brooding eyes, like one who has known too much in too little time, and has often had to act on things one would never hope to. His aquiline nose lead down to wide, sensual lips, revealing a small, wry dimple as he greeted his grandmother, he had a strong jaw, and broad shoulders.
Chaysula sighed. He was a man she could have learned to appreciate, to respect, and even, if she permitted herself to think on it, love. She gasped, and halted, she had thought for a moment his gaze had flickered over to her, had paused briefly, but briefly nonetheless on her face. It was unnerving, but Chaysula was determined not to act out of the ordinary, so she stayed in her place until the royal entourage had entered the palace, and began to move warily through the streets of Arrakeen.
*******************************Flash Back*****************************************
"Come, sit with me," the softly modulated voice of Lady Jessica Atreides cut through the Prana Bindu meditation like a knife, subtly edged.
Raising her head to face her mentor, Chaysula Utaren rose from the floor mat. "As you wish, Reverend Mother," She sat herself down gracefully beside Lady Jessica, watching her new teacher with a certain awe. This was a woman who had done as she had, and had not only survived, but prospered.
"You know not where you shall be taken, isn't that right child?" Lady Jessica intoned, warmth creeping into her voice.
"No, I don't. It was said it was for the best, so I could not be condemned by a Truth-Sayer. I saw merit to it." She answered.
"And since have not inquired as to where you shall spend the rest of your days." added the Bene Gesserit.
"I don't plan to spend the rest of my days in exile." She explained succinctly, her tone belaying her hatred. Lady Jessica understood hatred. In Chaysula, she even encouraged it. When she and Paul had ventured into the deep desert, the hate pushed her forward, guided her towards survival, because her death was just too easy for those she wished to punish. She understood hate. Once the hate is gone, only purpose remains.
"Good." Jessica told her. "You know that I plan to visit my daughter and my grandchildren on Arrakis," Chaysula nodded, waiting for Jessica to continue. "I believe that you could build a life there, among the fremen. Your father wouldn't be able to mount an investigation, because the Emperium would deny him, seeing it as a threat, a maneuver to gain intelligence."
"but, the fremen would not allow it, I am not desert born, I'm a child of the savanna, surely-"
"I have already contacted those loyal to me in the desert. The first, of course is Stilgar. It seems that my first idea, of setting up a story, saying you are a niece of Stilgar's from a Rebel Sietch that had just been attacked would not do. Stilgar has informed me of the many attacks, but also of Alia's.furthering difficulties, making it even more dangerous for the Twins to be anywhere but the Sietch. It would not be advantageous to seek your exile-"
"I was supposed to wed him. Leto. Father had it all planned." Chaysula stated sadly.
Jessica chose to over-look the comment and proceed on the briefing that she had begun. "Yes. Well you are free of any path that you yourself do not choose anymore. Anyways, Stilgar has told me though that there have been an astounding number of Rebel sietches obliterated by Alia's men. It would be unwise to settle. The best cover you have is to become a Mi'kiyla."
Chaysula furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "what is a Mi'kiyla?" The word sounded interesting, mysterious, and Chaysula found herself intrigued.
"A Mi'kiyla is a wanderer. Often, and in the case of your cover story, during times of war, when sietches are wiped out, there are often survivors with no place to go, no relatives to accept them at their fire, and take them into their sietch, so they end up wandering the desert, learning the songs and the sacred dances of their people, and any other songs or dances that could entertain, stopping for a while at each sietch they pass, for the Naib is sworn by Fremen law to give sustenance and shelter to any Mi'kiyla that asks. In return, the Mi'kiyla is expected to entertain that sietch. A Mi'kiyla is only aloud to settle when a member of the Sietch asks his or her hand in marriage, or, on the rarer occasion, is offered a place within the Sietch, and is given full confidence of the Naib."
"And it would be best to become a Mi'kiyla because that way I would not be easy to find. And given the circumstances involved on Arrakis right now, the odds of a new Mi'kiyla are quite high. One more would not be noticed. I accept this. Thank you for going to such trouble for me, Lady Jessica. I admit, I was wary at first-"
"And you had need to be. Your life has not been easy, a double threat, living with a father such as yours, with no one to protect you, as well as attacks from other houses in the lansraad seeking to put an end to house Utaren. Wariness is not a fault. It is a skill most need to cultivate very thoroughly. You just had the misfortune to learn this early on. You're like your mother, more than just your appearance. You have her will, but I daresay more of it, and much more strength and determination than most women."
********************************************************************
The plan was made. The stage was set. Chaysula glanced nervously out the window of the Guild Transport ship, thinking if things could possibly get any harder. She had spent a month learning a great deal of Fremen songs, ancient and recent, to add to her repertoire of Songs that she had already learnt from the Savanna people, the Kyiries. Her finger-tips were calloused from spending so much time playing and practicing the balliset. She had learned all about riding a worm, she even had Jessica's old Maker-Hooks, and a new thumper attacked to a belt on her still-suit. The only thing left for her to do now was to put in the contacts she would need to pass for Fremen.
"Here I must leave you," the gentle voice of Lady Jessica softly broke into Chaysula's stream of consciousness, awakening her from her fears and her constant preparation. She looked up, underneath her burnoose, to gaze at her mentor. "Go to Sietch Tabr first. Even if the twins are there, you will only be a Mi'kiyla to them. Speak with Stilgar, he will teach you the correct way to ride a worm, although you seem to have grasped the basics nicely. Stilgar will give you information you need to know about the sietches, their allegiances, their alignment, details that will be useful to you. I wish you luck. May Shai-Halud clear the path before you, and the blessings of Muad'dib follow you on your journey."
She grasped Chaysula's small, young hand in hers, and looked into her eyes. "I'm counting on you. I must go." And with no more than that, she turned gracefully, and was followed by gurney, who paused to stop and deliver one last fleeting word of advice to Chaysula.
"You be tough girl. You are already. But You be tough. Oh, and by the way, your Kitty, Ankhar, the right beastie he is, he isn't from the desert. If anyone asks, just say your father got him from a smuggler. Tell'm I was the smuggler if you need to. Make up a story saying we were good friends or something. But be careful. I'll miss teaching you girl. You got a way with the balliset. It does my heart good to hear such sweet music playing from those strings." Gurney stooped over, and pressed a parting kiss on her forehead, in a fatherly gesture, straightening, and fallowing his lady.
"It's now or never," She told the small sandy colored kitten she clutched, putting Ankhar into a soft woven bag that slung across her shoulders and rested on her hip. The crowd began to cheer jubilantly, and she took her chance, opening the back hatch, and climbing discretely from the guild ship, mingling with the crowd. She pushed her way through to half- way, and lifted her now blue in blue eyes to see the spectacle as it played out before her, and, catching herself in a wistful moment, hoping to glance fleetingly at the man she would have been promised to.
Burly shoulders blocked her view, so she shifted to get a better look. He was medium height, built with whip-cord strength, a cat-like musculature. He looked strikingly like a caged animal; there was something fierce, something almost tangibly powerful in his stance. His eyes were deep set beneath dark brows, melancholy, brooding eyes, like one who has known too much in too little time, and has often had to act on things one would never hope to. His aquiline nose lead down to wide, sensual lips, revealing a small, wry dimple as he greeted his grandmother, he had a strong jaw, and broad shoulders.
Chaysula sighed. He was a man she could have learned to appreciate, to respect, and even, if she permitted herself to think on it, love. She gasped, and halted, she had thought for a moment his gaze had flickered over to her, had paused briefly, but briefly nonetheless on her face. It was unnerving, but Chaysula was determined not to act out of the ordinary, so she stayed in her place until the royal entourage had entered the palace, and began to move warily through the streets of Arrakeen.