Author's Note: I was hit with the inspiration for this story after watching Dune: Part 2 in theaters. I love Paul and Chani together, and I found there to be something mesmerizing about the tragic air of their relationship. This fic is my imagining of how their story might continue. I haven't read any of the books, so this was created purely from the the films and my own imagination. Spoilers for Dune 2 (obviously). Enjoy!
The desert stretched out in front of her—a vast, sparkling expanse. The sight had once filled her with a thrill of excitement and hope, but now she felt only emptiness. Six months had passed since she left. Six, long months of waking up every morning expecting to find Paul lying next to her. The pain hadn't dulled yet, and she was beginning to doubt that it ever would.
Even so, she didn't regret her decision to leave. She thought back to that day—remembering how she had ridden through the dunes, heedless of the wind and sand that buffeted her. Tears stung her eyes, but she stubbornly suppressed them before they could fall. Never again would she waste her water on Paul Atreides.
She hadn't known where she was going, only that she needed to get away. She couldn't have stayed in that room any longer. If Paul looked at her with those eyes one more time, she would have fallen to her knees and begged to stay with him—even if it meant becoming his pet.
You may have been his pet, an insidious voice in her mind whispered, but at least you'd be with him.
She shook her head to dispel the thought, but she knew it would come again—just as it always did. She was disgusted with herself. Where was her honor as a Fremen? As a warrior? No one should have such power over her—not even the one who claimed to be the Lisan al-Gaib.
She reached her windtrap and automatically began collecting the condensation that had gathered. She had been living in the dunes on her own since she left. Although she mostly kept to herself, trickles of news still found their way to her ears. The war appeared to be going well for Paul and his Fremen. With every new report, there were more houses added to the list of those who had submitted to his reign. It was only a matter of time before Paul's victory was complete and he was universally accepted as the new emperor. Once that happened, he would leave for Corrinth and be gone from her life forever.
It was best this way, she told herself. Paul could have his empire, but he would not have her. He had made his choice, and she had made hers.
"Hello, Chani."
She whirled to find Stilgar standing calmly, hand raised in greeting. For a split second,
the sight of him took her back to her time with Paul in the dunes. Those had been wonderful, simple days—but they were over now, and there was no point in wishing they would return.
"What do you want, Stilgar?"
She didn't bother asking how he had found her. Stilgar was one of her people's best trackers. She had always respected him for his skills, and it had driven the knife that much deeper when he threw away his honor as a Fremen for religious fanaticism.
"I came here upon the behalf of the Lisan al-Gaib."
She was tempted to snap that his name was Paul, but she knew she would only be wasting her breath.
"Well then you've come all this way for nothing. I don't have anything to do with Paul anymore."
"I understand, sister. Still, I wanted you to know that he is gravely injured. The healers don't think he'll live much longer."
Her heart stuttered within her. Paul was going to die? "How did this happen?"
"During a duel with the head of House Ordos. We had already decimated their forces, so the duel was nothing but a formality. We advised the Lisan al-Gaib that it wasn't necessary to lower himself to fight the man, but he insisted. He won the duel, of course, but he was injured in the process. The wounds weren't as severe as those he suffered from the Harkonnen heir, so we thought he would recover without issue, but he has done nothing but grow worse for the past week."
"The war is lost then?"
Stilgar shook his head. "The House of Ordos was the last of the great houses to surrender. The holy war is over. Victory is ours. The Lisan al-Gaib led us to paradise just as the prophecies promised."
"And was his injury prophesied too?" she asked sarcastically.
"Some of our people believe it to be so. Shortly before the war ended, the Lisan al-Gaib began to preach that he was to lead the Fremen to paradise, but it was our responsibility to preserve the paradise he gave us. He spoke about how he wouldn't be with us forever and how we should continue on in his spirit even after he was gone. There are those that say the Lisan al-Gaib's role is finished, and that it is simply his time to move on to the next world."
So much for undying religious devotion, Chani thought caustically.
"I am not among those people," Stilgar continued. "I believe that the Fremen still need the Lisan al-Gaib. That's why I came to you."
"Why me?"
"You are Desert Spring," he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. The fervent look in his eyes made her shiver despite the sun's blazing heat.
She wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "I'm not a miracle worker, Stilgar. What happened that time...I still don't understand it. Paul already has healers and the emperor's daughter to care for him. There is nothing I could do that they cannot."
"But he doesn't call for them, Chani. Only for you."
"What?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't think he's conscious of it, but he calls your name constantly in his sleep. I know you doubt your abilities, but I believe that the Lisan al-Gaib would draw strength from simply
having you at his side. Please come with me. He needs you."
Chani wavered. She knew that she shouldn't go. There was nothing she could do, and going to Paul's side would mean that the torment of the last six months had been futile. But when she thought of Paul, lying in bed and calling her name, her resolve blew away like sand in a gust of wind.
She met Stilgar's eyes steadily. "Take me to him."
The flight to Arrakeen was only a few hours, yet it seemed to last an eternity. Terror seized her as Stilgar's words fully sank in. Paul was dying. She had wanted to be free of him, but not like this. If he died before she could see him again...
She shuddered. Just thinking of it made her feel like she would go insane.
"Fear not," Stilgar said, seeming to read her thoughts. "He'll wait for you."
She looked at him, any retort that she might have made dying on her lips. Stilgar's eyes were so earnest, so sincere. He truly believed what he said, and suddenly, she found herself wanting to believe it too. Paul would wait for her. He had to.
It was shortly after nightfall when they arrived at the palace. Stilgar led her through a series of long, dimly lit hallways. The architecture of the building was strange—foreign. At any other time, she would have taken in everything with awe, but now she could think of nothing except Paul.
They finally reached a set of grand doors. A pair of Fremen guards stood stationed on either side. She didn't recognize them, so she guessed they were from one of the southern clans. The men nodded respectfully at Stilgar, then stepped aside to admit them.
Chani swallowed back her fear as the doors swung open. The room was spacious, with dim lighting like the hallways. Her eyes immediately sought out the imposing four-poster bed, but curtains had been pulled around it, shielding Paul from view. The room's only other occupants—the emperor's daughter and a group of healers—stood in a cluster beside the bed. They fell silent as Chani and Stilgar entered.
Princess Irulan approached, her movements marked with a noblewoman's unmistakable grace. Her hair was twisted in an elaborate updo, and her striking red gown made Chani uncomfortably aware of her own plain, desert-colored attire.
"Thank you for coming, Lady Chani."
"Just Chani is fine."
"As you wish."
Chani couldn't find it in herself to hate this woman. The emperor's daughter was a victim of Paul's hunger for vengeance just as she was. Still, it hurt that he had chosen her—that she was the one who had been by his side all these months.
She glanced towards the bed, feeling sick with trepidation. "Is Paul...I mean, is he...?"
"He still breathes, but his condition continues to worsen. The healers aren't certain how much longer he'll be able to hold on."
Chani nodded, inwardly collapsing with relief. Paul was alive—that was what mattered.
"May I have a minute alone with him?"
Irulan nodded and quietly ushered the healers out of the room. Some of their wrinkled faces looked skeptical, but the emperor's daughter allowed no room for argument.
Stilgar touched her arm lightly. "I'll be outside if you need me."
She nodded, her eyes never leaving the bed. Alone at last, she drew near, her heart
pounding like a thumper within her chest. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled back the
curtain.
Paul was almost unrecognizable to her. His cheeks were sunken, and his skin—once
bronzed from the sun—had grown pale and sallow. She watched his chest, needing to witness it rising and falling before she was convinced that he was truly alive.
She balanced carefully on the edge of the bed. She was wondering whether she should try to wake him when he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. Her breath caught in her throat. His eyes were just as she remembered. Vibrant, keen, and powerful—they seemed out of place in his illness-ravaged body.
He stared at her, drinking in her face like precious water. His lips started to move, but she quickly quieted him.
"You listen to me, Paul Atreides." Her words were harsher than she'd intended, but certainly no less than he deserved. "You will fight this sickness, and you will get well. It doesn't matter whether you're the Lisan al-gaib or not—my people need you. If you abandon them now, I will never forgive you. Do you understand me?"
Once he had given a weak nod of his head, she said, "Good. Now sleep."
She was relieved when his eyes slid shut once more. His gaze made her uncomfortable. Those eyes of his had been knowing—almost too knowing. Had he seen through to the truth of her words? She had said that her people needed him, but what she had really meant was that she needed him.
Pull yourself together, she chided. You survived all these months without him, didn't you?
The door creaked open, and she stiffened as Paul's mother entered the room. The witch's shrouds flowed around her as she glided towards the bed. The blue of her eyes glowed eerily in the room's dim light.
"Hello, Chani. I'm glad to see you."
"I'm sure you are," she replied coolly.
She knew that she was nothing more than a pawn to this woman. And from the satisfaction in Lady's Jessica countenance, Chani had a feeling that right now she was exactly where she wanted her.
"I merely wanted to greet you and thank you for coming all this way," Lady Jessica said silkily. "Good evening, then. I leave Paul in your hands."
Chani drifted to sleep sometime in the small hours, but woke abruptly when Paul jolted beside her. His breathing came in ragged gasps, and his eyes roved around frantically until they landed on her.
She seized his hand without thinking. "It's alright," she said softly. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."
He relaxed slowly, his breathing evening out once more. His eyes stayed fixed on her face, however, until exhaustion won out and he again fell into a deep slumber.
She rarely left Paul's side after that. Under the healers' begrudging instruction, she took over most of the nursing responsibilities. The healing process was slow, but Paul showed steady improvement under her care. Within a week's time, the healers declared—with evident disbelief—that his life was no longer in danger.
She had continually urged Paul not to tax himself by talking, but after this proclamation, he would be put off no longer.
"Why did you come here, Chani?" he asked, voice raspy from disuse.
"Stilgar begged me, and like I said—my people need you."
He nodded, his expression growing distant. "I wanted vengeance for my house, but I never asked for all this responsibility. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I just...
disappeared."
His words confirmed her suspicions. Paul had been trying to die. He had allowed himself
to be injured during the duel with the Ordos lord, and he had been prepared to simply slip away
afterward.
"Then you're a fool and a coward, Paul Atreides."
He flinched, but she didn't care. The fact that—after everything—he had wanted to leave them all behind infuriated her. "You set my people upon this path and now you must see it through to the end. Instead of moping around, you'd be better off thinking of the best way to use your power."
Paul said nothing more, but she could tell that her words had served their purpose. He wouldn't try to leave again. He would fulfill his duties as emperor—whether he liked it or not.
As Paul grew stronger and was able to stay awake for longer periods of time, they began playing card games or taking short walks through the halls. By unspoken agreement, they made no mention of the day she had left. Instead, they talked freely about their days in the desert—reliving their favorite memories until their sides ached from laughter.
Those weeks were wonderful—so wonderful that, at times, she could almost convince herself that they would last forever. But at last, the day came for the beautiful illusion to be shattered.
"I'm planning to leave for Corrinth in two days' time," Paul said during one of their usual walks. It was early enough in the day that they had ventured outside to the courtyard for a brief stroll.
"I see." She had known this would happen eventually, but it still came as a shock to hear him say it.
"You may leave whenever you wish, of course. I can't thank you enough for all you've done. You've shown me a kindness that I don't deserve."
"I won't leave," she said quietly.
"What?"
"I'm going with you." Although this was her first time speaking the words out loud, her heart had made the decision long ago. In truth, perhaps she had already decided the moment she agreed to Stilgar's request.
Paul stopped walking and looked at her. She had been expecting to see surprise in his features, but there was only sorrow and guilt.
"You knew that this would happen." It was a statement, not a question.
"I saw it in a vision, but I hoped it would prove false."
She tried to hide her hurt, but she knew that it flashed in her eyes. "You don't want me to come?"
"Don't misunderstand," he said quickly. "Nothing would make me happier, but...I must wed Irulan, Chani. I need her to secure my claim to the empire."
"Do you still love me?"
"Of course, I do." He cupped her face tenderly in his hand. "I will love you as long as I live, but I can't ask you to leave Arrakis for me. Especially when I can offer you nothing but a life as a concubine. You deserve more than that."
She lifted her chin up in defiance. "You may be the emperor, Paul Atreides, but you don't get to decide what I may or may not deserve."
"I just want you to understand what you're asking. This life you speak of—I saw what it was like for my mother. Others will look down on you, they'll see you as nothing more than—"
"Your pet," she finished flatly.
He nodded, looking away. "It won't be an easy life."
"You have left me with nothing but paths of hardship. The least you can do is allow me
to choose which one I'll take."
He locked eyes with her, but she didn't back down. "Very well." His voice was resigned, but there was relief in it as well. "If you've accepted this fate, then so be it."
Two days later, she and Paul stood on the imperial spacecraft, watching as the sandy landscape of Arrakis—the only home she had ever known—grew distant beneath them. Her heart throbbed painfully, yet she forced herself to keep watching, burning the image into her memory so she would never forget it.
Paul took her hand and squeezed it gently as Arrakis disappeared completely under a thin layer of clouds. "You've lost much because of me," he said in a low voice, "but I swear that you will have my love for as long as I live."
She nodded and laid her head against his shoulder. There would be time for words later, but for now, she simply wanted to sit in silence and mourn the loss of her homeland.
As the years passed, she gradually grew accustomed to Corrinth and its ways. She no longer gawked at the copious number of fountains and pools or the opulence she saw everywhere she went. She traded her Fremen suit for flowing gowns in a myriad of cuts and hues. Eventually, the soft fabrics didn't even feel strange to her skin anymore. Yet no matter how much time went by, the whispers never ceased.
It didn't matter that Paul spent the evenings with her or that they shared four children together. It didn't matter that he had transformed one of the palace courtyards into a miniature of Arrakis to ease her homesickness. In the eyes of these people, she would never be anything more than the mistress—the pet.
"You shouldn't pay any mind to what they say," Irulan told her. Over the years, she and the woman had developed a strange kinship. "I may be the empress, but you're the one who has his heart." Irulan looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Paul hasn't touched me since the night I conceived Shaddam. In truth, I envy you."
Chani watched as her children played in the sand-filled courtyard that Paul had built for her. Their favorite pastime was to imagine that they were hunting for sandworms. They had even contrived pretend thumpers and grapples to "ride" the imaginary creatures.
She turned, hearing familiar footsteps behind her. Paul strode through the courtyard, steps purposeful and posture erect. His dark suit had a sharp, military cut. She wasn't certain when it had happened, but at some point, he had begun to truly look like an emperor. His curls were now peppered with gray, but his eyes were the same piercing blue from his youth. Chani thought he was still the most handsome man she had ever seen.
Paul lowered himself onto the bench beside her with a tired sigh.
"Hard day?" she asked quietly.
He grimaced. "If that meeting had gone any longer, I think I would have strangled some of those old men."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He shook his head. "I just want to be here—with you and the children."
He put an arm around her waist, and she let herself melt against him. His work as emperor was enough for three men, but he did his best to steal moments with her and the children whenever he could. True to his word—he had never given her reason to doubt his love.
As they sat side by side, watching their children tumble about in the sand, she pondered the path she had chosen for herself. Paul had been right all those years ago. Hers was far from an easy life. She had given up her home and her life as a Fremen warrior, and was viewed with scorn and pity by those around her. Yet she knew that, if given the chance, she would make the same choice again. For despite everything, this life had given her Paul's love and her four beautiful children.
Compared to that, becoming the emperor's pet was a small price to pay.
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! My vision was for this story to be melancholic with a bittersweet (but still somewhat happy) ending. I'm not sure if I succeeded, yet I think I'm satisfied overall with how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it, and please do leave a comment to let me know your thoughts! They are always much appreciated!