A/N: Hi everyone! We're starting 2025 with several new Dune fanfics. Here's one I've been wanting to get out of my system for a long time – a one-shot intended to cure the inevitable post-'Dune Messiah' depression. It's an AU/"What if…" story in which Paul and Chani are, you know, *still around* to spend some time with their babies. It's mostly sweet and fluffy, although there are some darker underlying themes (this is Dune, after all). Enjoy, and as always, I'm super happy about reviews!

WARNING: Spoilers for major plot points of 'Dune Messiah' (not the ending, though).


Chani awoke to one of the twins crying.

She opened her eyes in the darkness, suppressed a yawn. Sietch Tabr's yali were windowless, making it impossible to distinguish day from night, but her senses told her dawn was still hours away. It would be a while, she supposed, before Paul and her would be able to sleep through the night without interruptions again.

She listened for a reaction from Paul, who lay right next to her in their bed, but he hadn't stirred. Judging by his slow, deep breathing, he was still asleep. It was a rather uncommon occurrence – he was usually just as quick to wake as she was, with that characteristic alertness of young parents. Chani herself had been a heavy sleeper before the birth, but in the past ten days, she'd developed an acute capacity to be awakened by even the slightest noise from the babies.

She stretched her arms and legs under the covers and sat up, her bare feet touching the carpet at the foot of the bed. She knew she could allow herself to let the child cry for a few minutes – but one crying child was very likely to wake the other, and then she'd have to deal with two hungry newborns at the same time. Not to mention the cries were bound to wake Paul at some point, too, and she was willing to offer him his rest.

As she got out of bed, a glowglobe emerged from the dark and accompanied her movement, hovering above her head. Dimmed to a minimum during nighttime, it bathed the room in a warm, orange light, casting an elongated shadow of her silhouette on the stone walls. Chani tiptoed over to the crib the twins shared, looked down at the two small figures that lay side by side. Ghanima, it appeared, was the one crying. Chani couldn't tell the twins apart by the sound of their voice yet, but she'd started to note some small differences in their appearance that enabled her to distinguish them from one another. To the untrained eye, they looked identical. But a slightly lighter hair colour, the shape of the chin or the size of the blue-in-blue eyes were details that helped Chani identify her baby girl. Next to Ghanima, Leto was fast asleep, unbothered by his sister's fuss.

Chani picked up the child and rested her on her shoulder, rocking her gently as she moved back to the bed. She slipped under the covers again and settled herself comfortably against the bed's wooden headboard, then pulled up her linen tunic to feed the baby. Ghanima's mouth searched hungrily for her breast, her tiny hand fiddling with the hem of her garment. Her skin felt soft and warm against Chani's. The crying was soon replaced by a faint suckling sound.

As silence returned to the room, Chani glanced at Paul again, marvelling at how he'd managed to sleep through the commotion. He lay on his stomach, his arms crossed under his pillow, curls of hair hiding parts of his face. By his furrowed brow and the way his muscles twitched from time to time, she could tell he was dreaming.

She studied him fondly for a few minutes, caressing Ghanima's forehead with her free hand. After a while, as if he'd felt her insistent gaze upon him, Paul drew a sharp breath and jolted awake. His scarred eyelids fluttered open, revealing two dark pits Chani still hadn't gotten used to staring into. It had been months since the failed attempt on Paul's life in the streets of Arrakeen, since the horrifying stone burner attack that had turned their lives upside down. The burns caused by the bomb's radiations had long healed, the web of scars around his eyes now familiar to her – but even after all this time, she couldn't repress a shudder whenever he aimed those empty sockets at her.

She pushed back the underlying feeling of dread and forced herself to focus on the present. Paul was alive. So was she, and so were their children. This was a moment to enjoy, she thought. A small, peaceful moment away from the world's troubles. She extended her hand to brush a strand of hair from Paul's face, careful not to startle him. He smiled at her touch.

"…'Morning", he murmured. She chuckled.

"Oh, it's not morning yet", she said. "One of the twins was crying. Not that it seemed to disturb you all that much, Usul", she added in a playful tone.

Paul turned onto his side, facing her. He appeared to be lost in thought for a moment.

"I was dreaming", he said eventually. "I can't remember the last time I dreamt."

Chani frowned. "What do you mean? You dream every single night. I've never seen someone dream as much as you do."

She'd stopped counting how many times she'd been awakened in the middle of the night by Paul tossing and turning in his restless sleep, how many times she'd comforted him after he'd woken, bathed in sweat, from some terrifying nightmare.

Paul slowly shook his head. "Those weren't just dreams, love. They were visions – paths of the future. This one… This was just a dream." There was a sense of almost child-like wonder in his voice.

"What was it about?"

He let out a soft, happy laugh. "It was nonsensical and absurd, as only dreams can be", he said. "And it feels so good, knowing I don't have to worry about any of it coming true."

It was Chani's turn to reflect on his words. The night of the twins' birth, the long, arduous birth that had nearly killed her, Paul had suddenly stopped having visions. A curtain being pulled on the future, he'd called it. Whether it was the shock of almost losing her, or something else, she wasn't quite sure. But she'd quickly realised how much of a relief the change was. She knew how Paul had grown to hate his powers of foresight over the years – how trapped he'd felt by his oracular visions, never able to live in the here-and-now, constantly trying to navigate the treacherous waters of prescience. After such a long time in lockstep with his visions, all that agonising knowledge of dark things to come and the sacrifices he'd been forced to make, she could only imagine how liberating it must feel to live in the present once more. In the ten days since their children were born, Paul had been more relaxed and serene than she'd seen him in a very long while.

Of course, along with his visions, he'd lost the ability to see without seeing, as she'd come to think of it – that uncanny aptitude to know every detail of his surroundings as if he still had eyes to look at them. That aptitude had only strengthened the Fremen's belief that Paul Muad'Dib Atreides was some kind of all-powerful figure to be worshipped like a god. Chani had been both impressed and disturbed by it. Now, without prescience, Paul was left both physically and prophetically blind. "I'd much rather see nothing than see everything", he'd told Chani when she'd shared her concerns with him. He considered it a small price to pay for the inner peace he'd been deprived of ever since he'd drunk the Water of Life.

"Are they truly gone?" she asked. "The visions – are they gone for good?"

Paul nodded. "Yes, they are", he said. "I can't explain it. I just know."

He pulled his hand from under the blanket and reached for Chani. His fingers found her shoulder, wandered down her arm and onto the baby's head. A smile lit his face.

"Which one is it?" he asked.

"It's Ghanima", Chani replied. "She's often the first to be hungry." Ghanima was still suckling, though not as actively as she had been, her eyes half-closed as if she was falling asleep.

They remained silent for a few minutes, Paul stroking the child's hair. Then the quietness of the room was disturbed again by the loud crying of the other twin – with all that attention given to his sister, Leto had decided to make his presence known.

"Time for your brother's turn, Ghani", Chani declared while Paul propped himself up in a half-sitting position, his back against his pillow. Chani gently handed the baby over to him, laying her down on his bare chest. He wrapped his arms around his daughter, his movements as confident as if he could see her, and offered her his little finger. Ghanima closed her tiny fist around it, brought it to her mouth and started sucking it greedily.

Chani left the warmth of their bed once more to go and get Leto. The yali's temperatures always dropped during the night, and she felt herself shiver at the coolness of the air on her skin. She lifted the baby from the cot, then hurried back into bed and huddled up close to Paul. Leto had already stopped crying and babbled softly, wiggling in her arms as she settled to breastfeed him. Paul leaned in to give his son a kiss, his hand exploring Leto's and Chani's bodies. He cupped the nape of Chani's neck and pulled her closer to kiss her. Her lips responded eagerly to his. When he eventually broke the intimate contact between them, he pointed his eyeless sockets at her with such precision that she could have sworn he was staring right at her. She forced herself not to look away. Her fingertips affectionately traced the shape of his nose, the dark red burn scars on his cheekbones, played with a lock of his unruly hair. He nestled against her shoulder and focused his attention back on their daughter. Lying flat on her stomach, Ghanima let out a high-pitched, joyful giggle as he tickled her. Paul laughed, and Chani realised how much she'd missed that sound. She suddenly felt herself overwhelmed by the simple perfection of the moment. Here in the depths of the sietch she still thought of as home, surrounded by her family, far away from the Imperial court and all its scheming, she felt happier than she had in a long, long time.

"I wish we could just stay here", she said, voicing her thoughts out loud. "I wish we never had to go back."

"Believe me, so do I." Paul's tone was serious again. "Especially in chaotic times such as these."

To be honest, Chani had always considered the court to be chaotic. For more than a decade, they'd lived with the shadow of the war hanging like a dark cloud over their heads, the religious fanaticism she'd come to despise more and more as it grew, the plotting and rebellions and political threats that prevented her from sleeping soundly at night. Things had been a lot easier when it was just the Fremen battling the Harkonnens in the open desert, she thought bitterly. Life had been harsh back then, but at least, they could always tell who the enemy was.

Paul was right – a new form of chaos and unrest no doubt brewed in the capital of Arrakis. She had heard of the series of arrests and executions conducted there in the name of the Emperor, although she knew it hadn't been Paul's decision. His sister, Alia, had taken control of his forces after their departure for Sietch Tabr. She had been quick to disobey her brother's orders, taking the lives of those who had conspired against him, without mercy nor regard for consequences. She'd gone as far as to have a Reverend Mother of the Bene Gesserit murdered in cold blood. Chani had no love for the Sisterhood, but the news had still come as a shock. For all the hatred he harboured toward the Bene Gesserit, this was a line Paul would never have crossed.

And Korba, the man the Fremen had nicknamed the Panegyrist, had been one of Chani's fellow Fedaykin in the days before Muad'Dib's reign. She'd known him most of her life, fought beside him against the Harkonnen oppressors – and now he was dead, too. They all deserve it, Chani told herself. Those were the people who had betrayed and attempted to assassinate the man she loved. The ones who had defied the Great Convention to use the dreaded atomic-fuelled stone burner, causing untold death and destruction. But the executions, along with the cold, almost proud tone Stilgar used when he spoke of them, still left her with a sour taste in her mouth.

What disturbed her the most, however, was the strangely detached manner in which Paul had chosen to leave his affairs behind, removing himself from the chessboard and letting the remaining players move on without him. It wasn't like him – and Chani couldn't shake the feeling that he had, in fact, left his Keep with the intention never to return. It was an impossible option, she knew it – Paul was the Emperor of the Known Universe, burdened with responsibilities he couldn't simply ignore. And yet, the perspective of being gone had been more than wishful thinking on his part, she could sense it. She wondered what paths his last visions had led him onto, what unspeakable decisions he'd made that she didn't know about, and what had changed since then to make him reconsider.

All things considered, she wasn't too sure she wanted to know.

"What do you think will await us there?" she asked. It struck her how odd the question sounded to her ears, asking Paul about the future in such terms. He usually didn't have to think – he knew. From now on, there would be no more definitive answers. No more guilty looks from Paul whenever he withheld those foreseen truths from her.

He shrugged. "I don't know." That, too, was an unfamiliar phrase coming from him. "And I'm glad I don't. 'Ignorance is bliss', isn't that what they say?"

"That's what they say", Chani agreed. Full awareness of every small step that lay ahead could only cause pain and anguish – she'd witnessed it often enough. As scary as the unknown may seem, it was preferable to the alternative. She saw that now.

She gazed down at Leto, who appeared to have dozed off again, his cheek against her breast. Ghanima was awake and alert, wriggling on her father's chest, her bright blue eyes looking back at her. Chani was pulled out of her contemplation by the loud sound of her own stomach growling. Paul raised an amused eyebrow.

"Well, I guess your mother's hungry, too", he told Ghanima. Yes, she was, Chani realised. In the last months of her pregnancy, she had ingested impressive amounts of food to sustain both herself and the two lives that grew within her, never quite able to satiate her ravenous hunger. Now the twins were born, she no longer required the large quantities she'd gotten used to, but she still found herself needing to eat more often than before. She supposed she had to give her body some time to readjust.

She glanced over at the table plunged in near-darkness at the other end of the room, on which lay a plate with Fremen flatbread, cheese and dates, the leftovers of their dinner. Eating in the middle of the night had never been part of her habits, but now she'd become aware of her hunger, there was no point in trying to ignore it.

"I'm going to get myself some bread", she said. "Do you want something?"

Paul shook his head, then lifted Ghanima onto his left shoulder, making room for Leto on his right. Chani laid her son down next to his sister, resting his head on Paul's collarbone. Leto emitted a soft gurgle, but didn't wake. Chani slithered out of bed and walked over to the table, followed by the glowglobe. She stacked some bread and cheese on an empty plate and moved to sit down, before deciding she'd much rather have her midnight snack in the warm comfort of her bed. She took the plate with her and sat cross-legged next to Paul, pulling the blanket back over her legs. Paul shifted his position to lie down on his back, the twins on top of him. Their small bodies moved up and down in rhythm with his breaths as his chest rose and fell. Chani chuckled at the sight.

"What is it?" Paul asked.

"Nothing."

He didn't enquire any further. "Is that cheese? It smells delicious", he said instead. "I wouldn't mind a bite, after all."

Chani rolled her eyes. "Typical." She didn't try to conceal the amusement in her voice. "Not wanting any food, only to eat mine afterwards."

Paul offered her his most innocent grin. "I'd get up, but I can't disturb the little ones, can I?"

She snorted. "Gods forbid."

She picked a piece of cheese and lay it in the palm of Paul's outstretched hand. He looked awfully pleased with himself. Ghanima wrinkled her nose at the smell of the food, observing it with wide, curious eyes as her father bit into it.

Chani finished the rest of her flatbread, then put the plate down on the bedside table carved into the rock and snuggled up to Paul with a yawn. She felt exhausted. Neither of them had slept more than a couple of hours at a time since the twins' birth, and as much as she cherished every minute she spent with them, she yearned for a long, uninterrupted rest. Come to think of it, she couldn't even remember the last peaceful night's sleep she'd had. The last months in Arrakeen had been filled with nothing but fear and anxiety. She'd feared for her unborn children, for Paul's life, for her own. She'd spent entire nights lying awake in their bed, staring at the Keep's high ceilings and wondering which of the terrible futures Paul had seen were about to come true. He'd tried his best to spare her from those things, but the information he withheld had been as worrying to her as the bits he shared.

Chani forced the grim thoughts out of her mind. Those worries were a thing of the past, she reminded herself. Others would come, she had no doubt about it – but it made her all the more determined to enjoy what she had as long as she could. She kissed Paul on the cheek, then lay her head on his shoulder and reached for his hand, interlacing her fingers with his.

"Shall I put the twins back to bed?" she asked. Paul shook his head.

"Oh, no. It's perfect like this." He already sounded half-asleep. With a smile, Chani draped her free arm around the three of them, listening to Paul's breathing and the occasional faint sounds from the babies. It really was perfect, she thought, filled with a sudden sense of utter happiness. Her memories went back to the old sietch days, back when Paul and her were but two fugitives in the deep desert. To the first months of their relationship, when there were no stakes and no sacrifices. She stared at Paul in the low light of the floating glowglobe, noted how little he had changed in those fifteen years since their first encounter – save for the scars left by the stone burner's radiations, he still looked very much like the off-world boy she'd fallen in love with. How lucky they were, she told herself, to be lying here together all these years later, in spite of all the opposing forces trying to tear them apart, all the hatred and devastation and slaughter.

Those forces would come for them again, Chani was well aware of it. Out there, beyond the rock walls of Sietch Tabr, the world was still ablaze. But she chose to ignore it for the time being, pushing all the worry in the back of her mind with surprising ease. She closed her eyes, felt the warm bodies of Paul and the twins against her, immersed herself in the moment.

The world could wait. Here, in the quiet comfort of their yali, was peace.

THE END


A/N: Aw. Are you all warm and fuzzy now? That's good, because the next fic is not going to be so cute. It's set during the events of 'Messiah', too, and it's going to be a lot darker. I've already finished writing it, so it should be on here soon! And also, I'll be posting the first of those "deleted scenes" from 'Captives of the Sands' that some of you asked for. I'll probably upload them as "bonus chapters" in the file of the main story. So stay tuned for all that ;)