Feyd-Rautha took a detour on the way back to his quarters, enjoying his nighttime walk through the corridors. He'd been right: his bride had some life in her after all. He'd suspected since their first interaction, had thought his suspicions confirmed when he saw her in that dress. Despite her awkwardness after the ceremony, the moment Feyd saw her dressed in blood-red dye, he knew he needed to see how she did with the real thing. And she surpassed all of his expectations.

He had never planned on letting her die – that would have spelled the end of his political ambition – but he had expected to have to help her, had expected to have to pull his darling off her and force the knife back into her hand. He was expecting to have to hold the struggling pet still for the Princess while she wrestled with herself before the crowd. And he was expecting to take pleasure in reminding her of it again and again as she tried to forget.

He kept thinking about that look on her face – that look she'd given him when she failed to use the Voice – the look of utter defeat. He'd been hoping for it, and it was better than he'd imagined. That's when he decided she was pretty. She didn't look at him long though – had turned back to the real thing that needed looking at. Feyd saw her posture change from that of a scared maiden to that of a warrior. In the absence of tools of her own, she accepted what was offered to her and used it. Killing came to Feyd as easily as breathing, but the same could not be said for the Emperor's daughter. Even so, she had done it. Without hesitation, she had done it. And she had done it more easily than he had his first time. That was when he decided to make her beautiful.

And she had looked beautiful with the black dripping off her lower lip. He hadn't planned on marking her, but there was something about the way he saw her shift before his eyes that made him want to claim her. When was the last time he'd truly been afraid? Even during his fight with Paul, the feeling was excitement – not fear. The Princess's eyes had shone with abject horror, but she faced it head-on, and she won. Now that was brave. He marked her quite simply because she deserved it.

Feyd turned a corner, passing two guards on their way to the dining hall. He would let her keep her hair after all, he decided. With her blonde tresses, no one would ever forget she was the Emperor's daughter. The Emperor's daughter: his bride. He'd been thinking far too narrowly, far too small. He'd gotten distracted with the transition – too distracted to really take in what had changed. The idea occurred to him when he saw how the crowd reacted to her. It was time for him to focus.

This was a good match in more ways than he'd realized. He was next in line to the throne, and the current Emperor was on his way out – he'd make sure of that. But it wasn't just the throne he had access to. No, he held a second key as well: he currently gripped Arrakis in the palm of his hand. The current Emperor had no idea how to leverage his power against the Guild, but Feyd had seen the planet – had seen its potential. No matter how difficult the Guild proved to be, by controlling the Arrakis, he controlled them. And through the Princess, perhaps he could gain some mastery over the Bene Gesserit. All he had to do was sway her to his side, and that should be easy enough. He had already swayed her once. Yes, something shifted in him when he watched the Princess fight. She had a certain power to her. He saw it in the way the audience reacted to the kill. Against all odds, she had found her strength in front of the crowd. It was something he could cultivate.

But as much as he could plan, Feyd knew his true brilliance lay with his instincts. Right now, his instincts told him he needed a new Governor of Arrakis. With all of his relatives dead, he would need to choose from amongst his military commanders. His Governor didn't need to be particularly smart: Feyd would be smart enough for both of them. If they were too smart, they might try to plot against him – no, he needed someone loyal – someone good at following orders without a much of a desire to innovate.

He also needed an heir. His position was more precarious than ever. If he were to meet an untimely end, there was no plan at all for succession. He needed a son, ideally two or even three. Originally, he thought he'd make the Princess work for it. An heir was a bargaining chip he'd hoped to use to gain her compliance, but after weighing the possibility of an assassination attempt with the likelihood of his ability to sway her without withholding a child, it made more sense to gamble with the latter. They would start trying tomorrow. He'd wanted to start that night, but when he saw her trembling like that, it was clear her body was adjusting to its circumstances, and he wanted to give it a chance to complete the process – otherwise he knew she'd be left with residual complications he didn't care to deal with. Maybe even a day ago, he would have proceeded differently, but he had always been good at seizing on potential. How else had he surpassed his elder brother to become their uncle's heir? There was potential here, even if he couldn't quite determine the nature of it, and he couldn't let himself get distracted by petty revenge. There would be time to play later.

Perhaps he could use the heir to his advantage – could tap into the Princess's maternal instinct to make her loyal to House Harkonnen above House Corrino – above even her own father. He would have to tread carefully – would have to avoid doing anything that would close her completely off to him until after she'd given birth to a son. Killing her father (he suspected) was one of such things that needed to be put on hold.

Millions of lightyears away, Reverend Mother Mohiam approached a small rock formation that nearly blended into the desert sand. To an untrained eye, it would appear as a pile of rubble, but the old woman knew she had finally reached her destination.

The journey to Arrakis had taken several days aboard one of the Guild Heighliners, and then she traveled by Ornithopter to the southern desert, where she'd heard whispers of a hidden refuge. According to rumor, Sietch Jacurutu housed a community of exiles who had fallen out of favor with larger Fremen society, and for this reason, its location was somewhat of a mystery even to the active tribes. It had taken nearly a week to track down its entrance, and she'd left for Arrakis before even having the chance to confirm Lady Jessica's whereabouts. Word reached her on the landing pad, when the Heighliner docked outside the Residency, and after few days with the Harkonnen forces, she was able to arrange transport to the other side of the planet.

The Reverend Mother knew it was safer to approach the Sietch on her own than with a Harkonnen escort, so once the Ornithopter landed, she set off into the desert alone. The hidden entrance lay far outside of worm territory, so she was able to walk the four hundred meters with a normal stride. She was grateful for her Bene Gesserit robes, for they helped to shield her from the scorching sun. When she reached the enclosure, several Fremen guards emerged from the sand with crysknifes.

"Who comes here?" asked a heavily muscled man who pointed his blade at her throat.

"I seek your Reverend Mother," said the old woman.

"And who is she to you that you would look for her?" he asked.

"My daughter"

Lady Jessica sat on a stone bench, muttering to herself as she cradled her swollen belly. "I wondered when you'd turn up," she said without looking at her.

"You've done well for yourself here," said Reverend Mother Mohiam, looking around at the small, dusty room. "A comfortable spot."

"My son is dead," said the younger woman. "There is no need to gloat."

"You know as well as I that it gave me no joy to watch the boy die."

"You're not just here to lecture me. I'd love to hear from your own mouth exactly what you came here for."

"You're with child.

"Yes"

"I've heard rumors it's a girl."

"Yes," said Lady Jessica. "After all this time, you finally got what you wanted. A girl."

"What are your plans?" asked her former teacher, "Surely, you must be nearing the end of your exile."

"She talks to me," muttered the younger woman, glancing down at her swollen belly, before fixing Reverend Mother Mohiam with a dark blue stare. "She knows what you want."

"And what is that?"

"Power"

"The same could be said for you, my dear."

"She says you've come to ask for my aid."

"I have."

"You've come to ask me to lend my influence."

"Yes"

"On behalf of the man who killed my son."

"Yes"

"Unbelievable," scoffed Lady Jessica, "Each time I think I've seen the extent of your ruthlessness, you manage to outdo yourself."

"I'm sorry about Paul."

The younger woman laughed at this before her eyes filled with tears. She stared at the older woman, shaking her head. Reverend Mother Mohiam waited. She knew that it was better for Jessica to arrive at the necessary conclusions in her own time. "You know nothing of this loss," said Lady Jessica. "A piece of me is missing. Gone. My own flesh and blood. I believed in him.

The older woman said nothing.

"The signs were there," she continued, more to herself than to the other woman, "The signs were all there. I became a Reverend Mother. I drank the Water of Life. I saw it. I saw him. He drank the water of life and he lived."

"Yes"

"I don't understand it. What didn't he see?"

"I wish I knew," said the Reverend Mother.

"Just like you wished you knew who my parents were," said Lady Jessica. "How did it feel, Mother – taking that monstrosity into your body?"

"I kept many things from you. It's natural for you to feel anger toward me."

"I am angry with all of it."

The Reverend Mother said nothing.

"Where did it all go wrong? The signs were there." She looked up at the older woman as if expecting her to argue, but Reverend Mother Mohiam continued to watch her without speaking. "Perhaps…" began Jessica before swallowing. "And I knew it was a possibility. I believed, but I knew it was possible. That perhaps there were signs because I willed them into being. I chose to have him. I chose to raise him as I did. I pushed him to drink the water of life." She looked suddenly young again, as she had at thirteen, as she resigned herself to teachings that were difficult to embrace.

"It's human to want the best for our children."

"I did this to him," said Lady Jessica with a shudder. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. "I killed my own son."

"You acted as many would have done in your place."

"Not you," said Lady Jessica, "You managed to keep it all separate. Did you ever care for me? Or did you always just see me as breeding stock?"

The older woman sighed, for she recognized what she saw before her: a woman in need, not of her teacher's wisdom, but of her mother's love. If she were to proceed with this conversation, their dynamic would shift irrevocably – perhaps it already had. "Do you not find it strange that I was your teacher all these years?"

Curiosity clouded the accusation in her daughter's eyes.

"If I'd been smarter, I would have sent you away. To be taught by someone capable of objectivity. I kept you."

"Why?"

"Why did you have Paul drink the Water of Life?"

"Because I allowed vanity to sway my judgment."

"Because you wanted what was best for him. Because you loved him."

"I did," said her daughter before bursting into tears. "I really did." Then she turned toward her mother with fury. "You speak with a honeyed tongue." She spit the words out as if she were still in the throes of the worm's poison. "The same tongue, no doubt, that whispered instructions for my assassination."

"You had the tools to survive."

"You tried to kill my son."

"I had to be sure," replied Reverend Mother Mohiam. "Just like you had to be sure. When you guarded the door as he faced the gom jabbar. You were prepared to sacrifice him for the certainty of his potential."

"You believed in Paul," said Lady Jessica.

"Yes"

The younger woman stared at her mother, shaking her head. Then she began to weep.

"It's not over, Jessica," said Reverend Mother Mohiam.

"My son is dead."

"You're having a daughter; Feyd-Rautha will produce a male heir," said the older woman.

"You wish to breed them?" asked Lady Jessica.

"Had you produced a daughter all those years ago, we would be celebrating a wedding on Kaitain. But here we are."

"You blame me."

"I do," said her mother, "but it's no great matter. You don't have as much power as you think you do, Jessica. Try as you did to mettle with fate, you merely delayed it a generation."

"You say this as though you believe their child will be the Mahdi."

"We've facilitated thousands of years of careful breeding to produce this match between Houses. Of course I believe it."

Lady Jessica closed her eyes, nodding, before looking back at her mother. "She says you lie. You wouldn't let thousands of years of genetic planning go to waste unless it were your only option. You mean to breed her with Feyd-Rautha. His heir is the contingency plan."

"We do what we must," said Reverend Mother Mohiam.

"You wish her to live as the concubine of her brother's killer," sneered Lady Jessica.

Not at all," said the older woman. "She will marry the heir and raise Feyd-Rautha's child as if it were their own. We must keep Feyd-Rautha alive long enough for your daughter to come of age. Once she has had his child, his purpose will be complete."

Lady Jessica scoffed, but Reverend Mother Mohiam could tell she was opening to the idea.

"In the meantime, we must begin preparing the Fremen for the arrival of the true Mahdi."

"You've come to the wrong place to seek help. Why would the Fremen follow me after I led them so far astray?"

"Because they believe in you."

"Then they are foolish."

"Rumor tells me you chose this place, Jessica. No one sent you here. You and the Fremen leader chose this punishment for yourselves. It's time you returned to your people. They're abandoned and leaderless."

"That's their own fault," said Lady Jessica, "No one stepped forward to challenge Stilgar."

"Foolish," muttered the older woman. "The both of you. You've convinced yourselves you're making amends, but all you're doing is hiding. You created this mess – help me fix it."

"After everything you've done, after everything you're asking us to do, why should we listen to anything you say?"

"Would you rather sit in this place indefinitely, withering away? You have an opportunity, Jessica, to rectify your mistakes. Take it."

Lady Jessica's eyes fluttered closed, and she resumed muttering to herself, placing her hands on her swollen belly. She nodded before looking back at the older woman. "You want our help. Then tell us everything you're planning. Spare no detail. And we will know if you lie."