Since his rise to power, Paul Muad'Dib Atreides once again finds himself craving the welcomed relief of his dreams.
At least then, he'd be able to see her just one more time before the harsh new reality of what he'd become settled back against his shoulders.
"You'll never lose me, Paul Atradies, as long as you stay who you are." She'd once warned him.
He'd even take one of his nightmares if it meant he could gain the closeness he hungered for since Chani had slapped him in front of this whole council that day.
The dreams carrying a voice he now knew belonged to that of Otheym warning him "It was the birth m'lord" "The child lives but, I'm afraid it was just too much for her." after Paul had staggered his way into the proper passageway the loan fremen man was keeping watch over.
Chani's weakened. "Haven't you understood yet, my Usul? Nothing in this universe could ever compare to my love for you."
The world-shattering heartache as he cradles his desert woman against him when she takes her last shaking breath in this life as he cries against her hair. Begging her not to leave him again against the background of gurgling from the newlyborn baby in the crib beside them. The child swaddled in the salvaged battle flag carrying the Atreides crest Chani had asked the baby to be wrapped in.
At the moment, he was lying in his bed, his shirt lost on the floor. Still, he'd been unable to shift his fighting pants as he fell gratefully onto his bed pushed beside the already opened window; the gained layer of moisture cooled against his exposed skin from the heavy round of fight training he'd called with Gurney once the latest fremen led councils had drawn to a close. Thinking that maybe if he was tired enough, he could see dream created Chani without the shadow of losing her forever darkening the meeting.
This time, it wasn't the soft waves of Calidan that lulled him to sleep but the sun-warmed winds of his desert home world.
He'd just started to doze when a whisper of sound reminiscent of the humming buzz of his mother once talking in low voices to the former Reverand Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam just outside his door drags him from the hopeful peace of sleep, but Paul doesn't bother making any movement or sound to show he was aware of the noise as the door was just as quickly closed.
For a moment Paul wonders if the night brought intruder was Irulan attempting once more to seek the closeness, he continues to deny her by sleeping separately after their formal marriage. He makes a mental note to speak to her again on the topic come sunrise.
Why can't she accept our marriage for the political appeasement it is? Why can't she see I only wish I could have taken Chani as my true wife and not just subjected her to the role of concubine as my mother once was to my father?
The drowsy emperor already knew the answers to both questions as he tried once more to fling himself into some semblance of rest and let the Princess Royal steal what time she thought she was gaining with him.
Not even the warning dip of the bed can break his stillness as the lion's share of his mind aches for rest after the long day of fighting both in council meetings and on the practice floor.
"I swear to the makers the two of you are conspiring against me."
Paul's eyes spring open at the equally sleepy timber of the words as their speaker settles a little more comfortably against the slim stretch of opened bed left by Paul's sprawled state.
"Shai-Hulud, help me. You're going to be the death of me, child; now settle down."
Paul feels pain worse even than that from the Bene Gesserit's black box stabs white hot into Paul's very soul at the hushed plea of his beloved, yet still, he finds himself unable to move even a little bit in his agony as again Chani move restless against the sheets until she'd found some semblance of a comfortable position.
"Look, I've come to your father. What more would you have me do?" Chani sighs in what seems to be a near-nightly one-sided argument between mother and growing child.
So close. Yet, it's not close enough. Paul notes bitterly, now able to feel much more of the teasing heat of his woman returned to him but not so close as to physically touch her.
"I know, I know. You're never truly settled unless he's close. I knew the feeling once." She sighed as the bed dipped again, almost as if his visitor had turned on her side to see him better in the room's low lighting, and Paul could only guess by the small sounds of rustling fabrics Chani was rubbing a hand against her belly. "See, little one. Your father is trying to rest. As I was trying to do before you started pestering me into bringing us here."
Paul could feel his whole body trembling now with the effort to keep still once he'd registered the feather-light tickling of Chani's fingers skirting along a few of his fresher gain battle scars since she'd last seen his naked back. "Hummm. You know, little one, if not for this cursed war, I could almost swear that this could be our paradise."
The cooler water softened touch of Irulan's hand against his, a glaring contrast to the finger he wish to hold again dragging Paul from his remembered dreams. He soon draws his hand back from the innocently given touch fishting his hand against the chair arm least his bride try again in calling him back to the raging council meeting. He feared the first of many, many more to come, given how weak his influence was taking in the higher northern patches of Fremen-held desert.
Stilgar's booming tones provided most of the counters to those of Chani's tribble leaders proposed.
At once, Paul's eyes move to search for her among the gathered tribe members, but he catches only the retreating back of Otheym, making quickly for the door for his efforts.
It was a hard glare from his mother that kept Paul from following immediately, too, as the door closed behind Chani's retreating footsteps.
Not that her looks of warning nor Irulan's wounded poutting glances at his lack off offered affection to her during the meeting far long in holding him captive in his seat as the following seconds tick by without either Fedaykin reappearing at the negotiations with Paul giving a roaring "Enough" in the deep voice of the weirding way that was meant more for his mother than the arguing tribe leaders or his bride as he stood up from his throne in frustration.
"Obviously, this subject needs more attention than pointless bickering." The young royal covers at the surprised looks of the others in the room with him. "For today, the matter is closed and will be re-evaluated in the morning." Paul decides, unsure what subject had been fought over with such determination after Chani's exit. "For now, we should all retire and review ourselves for better talks tomorrow."
A few heads nodded in bitter agreement, Stilgar's included, but Paul wasn't paying much attention as he all but flew to the door Chani had so recently passed through in his desperation to follow her.
His search didn't last long. All he had to do really after his mad dash thought the council room doors was follow the soft tones of the strumming baliset to its source.
Otheym's eyes snapped to him warily, of course, once he'd pushed the door wider of the designated sleeping courters, but not even his unease made a misstep in his fingers against the strings as he played.
The fremen-born man keeping obedient watch near to the widow than Paul would have assumed given what he'd been told of the pair's affections for one another, and that was on top of those he'd seen for himself when they'd first arrived for council. Still, given the warning hilt of one of many knives he noticed about the man's person the crysknife tucked into Otheym's boot, Paul breathed a little easier, knowing that even at a distance, Chani was well protected as he quietly crossed to the bedside just to be near to her as she and the baby rested for the day.
The noticed but dismissed sight of a rolled-out bed mat and another clustering of what looked to be Othem's more personal belongs at the foot of the more than accommodating bed the room held was ponderings for another time when Paul's attentions was focused so entirely on the huddled outline of his woman laying curled up and restless against the softer offered mattress.
Otheym wisely decides against warning Paul away when the Atreides duke makes to join the now calming woman on the bedspread as the opening notes of yet another song begin to sound from the instrument in the fighting man's hands.
"It's alright, Chani," Paul whispers to her when the shift in his added weight seems to rouse the napping desert-tanned woman. "It's just me." He promises, holding his breath should she think to immediately order him away, as her last encounter theorized.
To his delight, his words earn a true able it, sleepy smile from his weary desert spring as her slitted blue eyes open a little wider to meet his.
"Usul." She murmurs, her reaching hands already fisted with surprised strength, giving her tiredness into the front of his shirt. "my Usul." Her head followed, burrowing against his chest as she rolled enough to tuck herself in against him.
Her back to his front as she settled back down. Just as they would most nights tucked away in the walls of their desert shrouded stiltent. Even that was a rarity, too, given how often Paul's nightmares would reverse their holdings, with Chani taking on most of the comforting touches then.
"Maybe now we can get some real rest." She yawned, bringing his captured hand down to rest against her stomach between them as she snuggled closer. "little enough time for sleeping in wartime." she sighed in another tired yawn before the combination of Paul's offered warmth and the soft strumming of the melody lulls her into a dreamless sleep.