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inkofthebrain · 16 days

Text

Imperial

[Paul x F!Reader] 3013 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? (More strangers to lovers tbh) ARRANGED MARRIAGE TROPE, not proofread LOL

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions.

A/n: Yeahhhh let’s goooo. We actually see Paul! Requests are open for one shots, imagines, and more. Check out the new request section of my master-list for my character lists!

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Five———

[Five days before the ceremony]

As you open your eyes, you feel a sense of deja vu wash over you. Yesterday's events come rushing back, and you can't help but feel a wave of exhaustion and dread.

You sit up slowly, shaking off the lingering remnants of sleep. It takes you a moment to fully orient yourself, but you soon remember where you are and what has happened.

"Is it time already?" you ask, your voice hoarse and dry.

"Yes it is, Lady Jessica instructed I let you sleep in for a few hours. It's early afternoon my lady" Delia says, opening your curtains.

You groan softly, feeling the weight of fatigue settle in your bones. The thought of yet more preparations and appointments fills you with a mixture of anticipation and resignation.

"Very well," you say, sighing. "Let us proceed."

The exhaustion was getting to you.

You follow Delia out of your chambers, your footsteps slow and heavy. You know that the countdown to the wedding has begun, and with each passing day, the pressure and expectations grow heavier.

You wonder who this day's appointments will be with, and what tasks you will have to face. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for what lies ahead.

As you and Delia traverse the hallways you look up in surprise as Paul appears around the corner, his expression serious and intense.

"My lady, may I speak with you? In private?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

Soon you nod, gesturing to a nearby empty chamber.

"Of course, my lord," you say, your voice soft and demure. "We can speak privately here."

You follow Paul into the small, secluded chamber, feeling a thrill of anticipation and nervousness. You have spoken to him before in meetings and at dinner, but never in private. You were acquaintances. What does he want to discuss with you so urgently?

Once the door closes he turns to you, "Are you ok?"

You nod tentatively. "Yes," you say softly, but the tone of your voice betrays the lie. You cannot deny the exhaustion and tension that has built up since your arrival on caladan.

"I am just... worn out from the day's events" you say, knowing full well that such an answer falls well short of the truth.

"You have been asleep all day" he states, catching you in your lie. "My mother told me about the early morning. I apologize for the pain that was caused"

You glance up at him, stunned by his sudden show of concern. You have never seen him express empathy, much less sympathy, towards anyone. There is a genuine warmth to his voice, and you feel a prickle of confusion at his behavior.

"It is not your fault," you say gently, forcing out a smile.

"It is the way of things. And it was necessary to determine if I would be strong enough for what lies ahead."

"Still", he says, his tone softening. "It can't have been pleasant. my apology stands." he pauses for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. Then he continues, "My mothers entire process is barbaric. No one should have to endure such things. I did not expect her to extend her horrors to you"

You nod. "Our lives are not in our hands"

He nods, seeming to understand the truth behind your words. "Perhaps that is the hardest part", he says. "The knowledge that we have no real control over our own lives. That everything we do is predestined, and the path we follow has already been laid out for us."

You feel a sense of companionship wash over you as he speaks. Here is someone who truly understands, someone who gets it. You know who has had this feeling before, and the realization makes your heart ache.

Paul pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say next. Then he continues, his tone softer and more candid than you have ever heard it before.

"I sense the loneliness within you", he says, "the sense of being trapped and isolated, no matter how many people surround you."

Paul's spice tinted eyes meet yours, and for a few breaths, there is an undeniable tension between you. Then he says, barely above a whisper, "I know the darkness that haunts you." Your breath catches in your throat, as if he had reached into your soul and grasped hold of your deepest fears. You want to pull away, to maintain distance and keep your emotions in check.

You have never shared these thoughts, these feelings, with anyone. But in him, you suddenly feel the urge to bare all, to open yourself to him completely.

"i've been dreaming of Arrakis" You Mutter

He smiles at you, a faint spark of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Nightmares, I assume," he says.

There is a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he knows all too well what that particular dream means. You notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, and you wonder how much he truly knows of your inner struggles and insecurities.

You nod silently, unable to deny or dismiss the truth of the statement. Even though you had grown used to having nightmares about arrakis, this one had been particularly vivid and unsettling. You can still feel the terror of the desert and the endless sand dunes, the crushing sense of doom and helplessness.

The silence hangs heavy between you, thick and taut with unspoken sentiment.

Paul searches your eyes briefly, and then he speaks, his voice just above a whisper. "Your dreams...they tell me that you are afraid, more afraid than you have let yourself admit. Even here, in this safe space, you cannot let go of the anxiety that haunts you."

You nod, feeling yourself grow flushed as his words strike a nerve. You have worked hard to conceal your fears, to portray a facade of strength and resilience. But here, in front of him, in this moment of intimate connection and understanding, you feel yourself succumbing to his perceptive nature.

"You see too much", you say quietly, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"Perhaps I do", he says, his voice soft and sincere. “The people view us as messiahs." He takes a breath.

"It's all fabrication, and we are bound to it by duty" he sighs

You nod, understanding the weight of the expectations that surround you. "Yes, we are puppets on strings, pulled in different directions by the desires of those who hold power. they seek to use us for their own ends, and we have no choice but to play our part."

Paul pauses, his eyes hardening slightly. "But we cannot allow them to define who we truly are. Inside, beyond this facade of duty and obligation, we are still our own people. we still have our own thoughts and feelings, our own desires and dreams."

"we each have a choice", he continues, "to surrender to

those expectations and allow them to define who we are. or to cling on to our own truth, despite the consequences."

He meets your gaze, and his words carry an intensity and urgency that resonates deep within your soul.

"I promise you," he says, looking into your eyes with a serious conviction, "That whatever choice you make, whatever price you must pay, I will be by your side to shoulder the burden as long as you extend that courtesy to me as well." You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I too have a truth I wish to cling to" he says before wiping a tear from your cheek which you had not noticed fell. “I unfortunately must depart, I have a security meeting for the ceremony" he says.

"Of course", you say, your voice straining with emotion.

"Do what you must. But promise me one thing..."

"What is it?", he asks, his voice still tinged with sympathy and concern.

You take a deep breath, feeling the lingering effect of his touch on your skin. You feel the urge to speak what is in your heart, to lay bare your feelings for him, your desire for him. But you manage to reign in the impulse, and try to maintain a sense of decorum.

"That we will see each other again, before we are made husband and wife", you say, your voice faltering slightly.

He nods softly, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He understands the deep significance of this brief exchange, and the desire behind your request.

"I promise", he says, his gaze intense and sincere. "We will see each other again, and when we do, much will be made clear. Until then, take care of yourself, and remain true to your heart. It’s far from over”

"I must go now," he says, "the ceremony is only five days away, and there is much to be done before then. but rest assured" he adds, his gaze lingering on you. "we will meet again."

The following two days were filled with dress fittings, floral arrangement and decor selection, cake tasting, and many meetings.

———

[Three days before the ceremony]

The entire palace was transformed into a flurry of activity, the servants bustling around and preparing everything for the ceremony. As the bride-to-be, the majority of the preparations fell to you and your family. But unlike many girls approaching their wedding day, you had no expectations or excitement. Instead, your thoughts were consumed by the impending reunion with Paul and the knowledge of the difficult days ahead.

The mornings were typically the only time you had to yourself. You were seated adjacent to your bedroom window, looking out at the sea as you reminisced on your upbringing.

You remember being escorted through the halls of the imperial palace, your eyes drifting past the grand spectacles of art and decor to the various courtiers and officials who moved like pawns across the board.

The emperor's hand gripped yours tightly, his eyes scanning the crowded halls for threats and vulnerabilities. His presence was a shadow cast over your childhood, looming large with power and influence.

You remember the countless hours spent in tedious lessons and tutelage, the endless nights spent studying ancient history and political theory. You remember feeling a deep sense of loneliness and isolation, a sense of being confined within the walls of the imperial palace.

Irulan was easily manipulated. That is what he desired. You were a threat to him.

It was his choice to not have you trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit like your sister. He feared the power you would hold.

You feel a sudden surge of resentment at this thought. He viewed you as a threat to his own power, not a worthy successor.

The emperor never truly understood the depths of your spirit, or your innate drive for greatness. He feared you and sought to destroy you before you could discover your potential.

The resentment grows as you recall all the ways you could have been trained and guided, only to be denied those opportunities. you could have been an even greater asset to the imperial house, but he denied you that chance.

"You cannot stop fate, father" you whisper aloud to yourself.

As you wandered through the halls, being transported from chamber to chamber to meet with various specialists, you felt increasingly overwhelmed and anxious. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, and you started to turn but immediately recognized Paul's firm grasp.

You wheeled around to face him, feeling a rush of relief and excitement as you saw his familiar face. Paul had appeared like a ghost in a forest, seemingly coming out of nowhere. but you were not surprised at his sudden presence, knowing the importance of this reunion.

"Well, the bride finally decides to make her appearance" he says with a faint smile, his gaze raking over your dress and appearance, taking in the details. But there is more than mockery and scorn in his expression, there is something deep and genuine.

You feel the corners of your mouth curve in a smile despite yourself, and you notice the gleam in his eyes.

"I trust they have been spoiling you?" he asks, gesturing to the entourage of servants surrounding you.

You nod, and try not to roll your eyes. "yes, they have been treating me like royalty", you say with a slight hint of mockery. "One might have forgotten that I am the subject of an arranged marriage and will not have much choice in the actual wedding itself."

Paul smirks slightly at your snarky reply, seeming to enjoy your spirited response.

"You know how it goes. it is all for the sake of appearances," he says, his tone tinged with irony. "The bride must be pampered and celebrated, even if she has little desire for the event itself."

"And what of the groom?" You ask

Paul pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering with amusement. "The groom may be equally disinterested, but he is expected to go along with the rituals and play his part. The pressure is not so great, but nonetheless a burden of duty must be shouldered."

Paul pauses, his eyes glancing beyond your shoulder, towards the swarm of servants. He gestures to them,

"But they seem quite dedicated to doing their part, so how about you let them continue to spoil you for another moment. And in the meantime, I will show you something"

he takes your arm, his touch warm and reassuring. You are surprised at the gentleness, the sudden shift in his demeanor. you allow him to lead you away from the flurry of activity, following him down a labyrinth of hallways and through several doors.

After a few minutes of walking, you arrive in a spacious office. Paul releases your arm and gestures for you to take a seat. He sits down opposite you, his expression grave and serious.

"This is something that cannot wait until the actual ceremony,” he says. "it is important that we discuss it now."

Paul's manner shifts as his mother enters the room. His expression becomes more formally composed, and he rises to his feet, offering her a slight nod.

Jessica responds in kind, the two offering silent greetings as she moves into the center of the room. You notice a slight softening in her demeanor as her son joins her, as if the two are united in this situation, however difficult it may be.

"You will not be fond of what must be done," Jessica begins

You flinch slightly at her direct statement, prepared for the news that is about to be delivered. But you also trust her wisdom and foresight, hoping that her words will provide some insight or guidance.

You study her face, noting the slight creases around her eyes and mouth, the weariness and stress apparent in her demeanor. She stands in firm control of her emotions, her tone composed and firm.

"Your father is to be charged with the attempted ratification of the Atreides house during his reign as emperor by the Great Houses of the Imperium. As Paul has been foreseen to ascend to take his place they have decided his ploy was an attempt to hoard the throne." She pauses. "He is to be executed shortly after the coronation of you as Empress and Paul as emperor"

The air is suddenly sucked out of your lungs as you feel this bombshell land in your chest.

Your father, charged with treason against the house and facing execution. For all his faults, the emperor was still your father, he shaped your life and protected you from the horrors of court life.

Your vision blurs, and your ears ring with a buzzing sound. You want to reach out to Paul or Jessica, but your limbs feel stiff and numb.

"I know this is difficult", Paul says, his voice soft but steady. "Your father was your father after all. But he had his own agenda, his own aspirations. He never desired for you to succeed him, much less become empress."

"But this changes nothing", paul says, his tone growing firm, conviction in his words despite the tragedy of the situation. "Your father has made his bed, and he must now lie in it. The ceremony will proceed as planned, and we will not allow his actions to stand in the way of our house and our destiny."

You nod, although it is with reluctance and sorrow. but you understand, deep down, that this is the only path forward. Your father may have once loved you in his own way, but he was also a man of ambition and status.

Paul and Jessica exchange a look, their expressions both sympathetic and resolute. Paul releases your hands, moving back to the center of the room.

"We will not let your father's actions deter us from our course. The ceremony will proceed, and you will be crowned as empress of the known universe."

Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb the significance of his words. You are to be the empress of the known universe, but at what cost? Your father, once so feared and powerful, now facing execution at the hands of what once was his Imperium.

You close your eyes, trying to push back against the flood of emotions threatening to sweep you away. You have no say in this matter.

"I understand", you say firmly, though your voice still trembles with grief and shock.

You feel two sets of eyes upon you, observing your response. You sense Paul's firm, almost resolute gaze, his presence a steadying force. Meanwhile, Jessica's eyes are filled with a subtle blend of sympathy and determination.

Her voice breaks the silence, her tone full of both sorrow and resolution. "You will be the greatest empress in the existence of this empire," she declares, the conviction in her voice unwavering. "Your father's legacy will fade as the empire embraces a new future with you. your father will never control you again."

———

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inkofthebrain · 15 days

Text

Imperial

[Paul Atreides × F!Reader ] 3177 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor's eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them...

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno! Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? (More strangers to lovers tbh) ARRANGED MARRIAGE TROPE, not proofread LOL

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: Next chapter is gonna be a hefty one… So here is low key a filler chapter before shit gets real. Requests are open!

Previous Chapter Next chapter

Dune masterlist

Six———

[Two days before the ceremony]

You find yourself in the sprawling garden grounds, strolling through the lush foliage and winding pathways. The air is fresh and cool, filled with the scent of flowers and shrubs.

A light breeze catches the skirts, sending a playful swirl of air around your legs. The fabric drifting lightly with each step.

The scene is tranquil and serene, a break from the stress and preparations of the impending wedding.

You stand on the cliff side, the wind whipping at you as you admire the water, feeling the gentle breeze on your face, the faint scent of pollen and vegetation in the air. You watch the waves crashing below, the sunlight gleaming off the ocean's surface.

You quite enjoy the moment of quiet solitude, the beauty and tranquility providing a welcome respite from the stresses and frenzied activity of the upcoming ceremony.

you take in a deep breath as the scene unfolds before you, the fresh air filling your lungs and soothing your mind. The sounds of the waves and the rustling leaves are a balm on your ears, a reminder of the natural forces beyond human control. These forces are so far removed from the court games and power struggle of life within the imperial palace.

You close your eyes, relishing the peace and seclusion. The breeze touches your face with a familiar warmth, the soothing sounds of the ocean washing away all concerns and anxieties. For a brief moment, you think you hear someone call your name, but you dismiss it as just the wind.

Suddenly, a warm, strong hand brushes your shoulder, startling you as you open your eyes. You quickly turn to see Paul standing beside you, watching you peacefully enjoying the scenery. You quickly recover, finding your nerves returning in a sudden rush.

"Am I disturbing you?" he asks, his voice gentle and reassuring as he studies you.

"I was simply enjoying the beautiful morning" you reply, he is dressed casually in a shirt and pants, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his strong forearms.

He laughs lightly, "It is a beautiful morning, indeed,” he says with a smirk,

“but are you not supposed to be occupied with bridal preparations?" You groan, wanting to escape the stress for just a moment.

"I needed a respite from the endless preparations," you say with a light, playful tone. "It was driving me mad."

"Is the wedding really so arduous?" he says, an element of mock surprise in his tone. "I would have thought that the bride would be more delighted at the prospect of her wedding, that it would be a moment of joy and celebration."

You chuckle, the soft sound echoing through the quiet garden. you sense the lightness and ease of this encounter, the bantering between you so unlike the stiff, formalities of court etiquette. The rush of adrenaline and excitement within you escalates, your mind racing with the possibilities of this moment.

"Perhaps the bride-to-be is more concerned with the responsibilities of adulthood than the joy of her wedding," you reply boldly, the playful banter evident in your tone.

Paul smiles at this, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer before he glances away. He seems amused by your boldness, and his voice holds a subtle hint of admiration as he replies.

"I would have thought our future empress would thrive on the challenge of leadership and responsibility. It is not for the faint of heart, after all."

You feel a faint flutter of pleasure as he calls you "our future empress". There is something about his confidence in you that gives you pause, and the way he looks at you now holds a hint of affection and respect.

"I'm certainly no wilting lily," you quip, "but there is a difference between being a leader, and being shackled by the responsibilities of leadership. Paul hums in agreement, his hair blowing slightly in the Caladan breeze.

You are aware of the way your bodies are close to each other, the nearness fueling the flutter of excitement within you. Your eyes linger on his face, the slight smirk still on his lips.

Paul finally breaks the stare, his voice still playful but carrying a hint of wistfulness. "The expectations upon you will be immense," he says softly.

"As with you" You say

He chuckles at this—-he is undoubtedly aware of the weight of the empire upon his shoulders.

"As with me, he agrees, "but yours is different. As future Empress, you will be at the mercy of the imperial court, at the whims and desires of the nobility and the power-hungry nobles of the court.

"Mine may be a path of responsibility or even isolation, but yours will be a path of constant negotiation and intrigue. there will be many people who wish to influence your opinions and bend your will to their desires."

He pauses, his voice softening. "It will be a difficult battle - an endless struggle to defend yourself from those who would use your power and influence for their own ends. you must be strong and resolute, or they will swallow you whole.”

"I'm aware of the runnings of the court, my lord" you say

he nods, appreciative of your understanding.

"I know that you are, but it's a different thing to experience it for yourself, to be exposed to the machinations of the imperial court, all with the weight of the imperium on your shoulders."

He takes one step closer to you, his voice softening further.

"I will be with you, every step of the way. I will be your greatest ally. and if anyone threatens or challenges you, they will have me to contend with.”

"I extent that virtue to you as well" you say before turning back to the view

He smiles at your response. There is a hint of warmth in the way his eyes linger upon yours, as if he wants to say something but doesn't know how to express it.

"Know you will keep looking out for me,” he says, his voice quiet and soothing. "I hope you will let me protect you as well."

The two of you sit in a comfortable moment of silence, letting the wind wash over you as the sea clashes against the earth.

"There is something I wish to give you on this very day," he says, the warmth of his voice filling your ears. "It is a small gift, but it represents our friendship and my trust in you, and I was wondering if you might accept it."

He pauses for a beat, the anticipation clear in his eyes. Then he pulls a slender silver pendant from his pocket. It hangs from a delicate chain, the intricate workmanship of the metallic pattern swirling around the pendant, the metal glistening in the sunlight.

He holds the pendant out to you, the chain slightly shaking with every movement. You are aware of the slight brush of his fingertips as he hands it to you, the warmth of his touch sending a tingle down your spine.

You take the pendant in your hand, the light shimmering off the silver catching your eye.

Paul's eyes are fixed on you, watching your reaction. the pendant hangs in your hand, a simple but luxurious display of his affection. the silver sparkles in the light, a reminder of the promise of your union and the power of this moment.

You smile, "Thank you" your thanks is filled with genuine appreciation.

You turn around, moving your hair away from the nape of your neck as you reach your hand out to hand him the necklace, signaling him to put it on

He takes the necklace gently from you, his fingers lingering along your neck for a moment. He steps even closer, his breath warm as he reaches around and places the necklace at your nape, adjusting the length so it hangs just below your collarbone.

Paul lingers his hands behind your neck, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin on your neck. You can feel the slightest flutter of excitement as he adjusts the necklace, the sensation making you even more aware of his presence.

"There", he says quietly, his voice low and soothing.

He steps back, his eyes lingering on the necklace as he watches it glimmer against your neck. He seems pleased with the way it hangs, matching your porcelain skin and the line of your collarbone.

"Suits you perfectly," he adds, his voice still low and gentle.

You feel the lightness of the moment, the tension and uncertainty of the wedding now far from your mind.

Paul's gaze stills on the necklace as you turn to face him, his eyes fluttering to your throat as his fingers lightly brush the delicate chain.

Paul's gaze flickers to the approaching figure, and his fingers release the chain, slipping back into his pocket. Your attention snaps to the approaching figure, and you notice Paul's brief glance of surprise as she appears. He clears his throat, breaking the intimate spell of the moment.

"Our chaperone arrives," he says casually, drawing a laugh out of you.

Paul smiles, appreciating the way you laugh, the sound of your light and airy amusement carrying across the garden.

Paul's gaze shifts to Delia, who approaches with her usual calm, poised demeanor. Delia is a strong, fiercely ambitious woman, her intellect rivaling Paul's own.

Paul steps close, placing his hand against the small of your back. "Hello Delia" You say warmly

Delia greets you politely, her voice smooth and professional. no trace of warmth or affection in her tone, she remains an enigma.

Paul's hand still rests behind you, barely grazing the small of your back. Delia notices the subtle gesture, the way Paul stands so close to you, and she watches you both with a subtle sense of curiosity.

"It's lovely to see you two enjoying the scenery, but unfortunately the lady is due for her final dress fitting" she says

Paul's hand falls from your back, and he steps back. the moment of intimate connection broken, his expression returning to one of polite professionalism.

"Of course," Paul says, his tone polite but respectful.

"We should not keep the dressmaker waiting."

Delia flashes a quick smile, the faintest hint of amusement at this interaction. She steps back, then takes your arm and leads you away, her voice firm but gentle. You can sense her curiosity as you walk away from the Duke.

"So." she trails off "Is the new pendant a gift from the young Duke?"

Delia's tone is curious as she asks the question, but her face remains expressionless. she turns to face you, her eyes lingering on where the necklace rests against your neck.

She seems to study the necklace for a moment, the subtle shine of the silver in the light.

"It is, yes," you reply gently. "He wished to give the necklace as a gift upon the occasion of our wedding, though I do not believe it is officially part of the ceremony."

Delia is silent for a moment, considering your response. Then she finally replies, her voice still calm and professional.

"You seem to have developed quite the rapport with the Duke in recent days. I was unaware the two of you were so familiar."

You let out a small laugh, "You have yet to see the pain that is tutoring the young lord in imperial law"

Delia smiles at this, the faintest hint of humor and understanding seeping through the layers of professionalism .

"And the young lord is a fast learner, yes?" Her voice is light, almost playful - a rare hint of softness from the normally stoic woman.

"He is a natural. Very intellectual but that prompts many of questions"

"You are a patient teacher, I am sure." Delia says, her tone still playful.

She pauses for a moment, her gaze still on the necklace.

"You seem quite close with him now - is the pendant a sign of your friendship?" You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. Delia allows another small smile, her expression softening momentarily.

She clears her throat, her demeanor returning to the usual professionalism.

"Well, I am glad the two of you have developed such a… friendship."

She pauses for a moment, as if deciding how much to reveal.

"The young duke has grown fond of you during these tutoring sessions," she says, her voice low and whisper-quiet. "He speaks fondly of your intellect and strength of character, and I know he enjoys your company." You smile at the comment

Delia steps back, giving one final glance of curiosity at the necklace around your neck, before abruptly shifting into her usual polite demeanor.

"The dressmaker will be waiting," she says in a firm tone, her expression once again stern and professional.

She turns and heads back to the main palace, her pace confident and steady.

———

You are now in a larger room, the white-marble walls and high ceilings giving it a sense of grandeur. a large circular mirror is set into the center of one wall, reflecting your image back as you stand before it.

Delia leads you over to the dressing area, where several women are already arranging dresses and accessories, jewelry, hair pieces, etc.

The dressmaker smiles at you as you approach, and a few of the women offer polite greetings. They begin quickly arranging a variety of dresses in front of you, all in soft, light colors - whites, yellows, and light greens.

You stand in front of the dresses and jewelry for a few moments, admiring the delicate fabrics and craftsmanship. You are aware of the subtle glances from the women, and you can sense Delia's presence as she stands behind you, her eyes on the various dresses and pieces.

"How many dress changes am i expected to make" you joke, breaking the tension. The women chuckle politely as the dressmaker smiles.

"Well, you will have three dresses for the ceremony and reception, of course," the dressmaker replies. "and three dresses for the various parties and balls that are to take place over the next several days. You'll also require a dress for your journey back to Arrakis—-I assume you'll be returning immediately after the celebrations are over."

You nod, admiring the dress you currently have on.

The women begin quickly discussing the various details of the dresses, measuring your height and taking your measurements. The dressmaker is the head of the operation, offering suggestions and adjustments. Delia stands quiet at your side for the duration, watching intently and offering input when asked. The process occurs quickly and smoothly, the women working in a coordinated fashion.

Eventually, the dressmaker calls for a short break, and the women begin to gather up their tools and pieces.

Delia takes the opportunity to step closer to you, her expression calm and focused. she waits for the activity around you to slow, her voice soft when she finally speaks.

"I hope you are not finding these appointments onerous," she says gently.

You feel a slight flutter of affection at her word choice—-she has a certain formal flair to her conversations, a sense of polite detachment layered under the surface.

you let out a small chuckle.

"Not at all—-I am enjoying the opportunity to play dress-up for a change"

Delia laughs softly, the genuine amusement evident on her face. she seems to appreciate your humor, allowing her to let her guard down for a moment.

"It's funny what we women will do for the sake of appearance and style" she replies, her voice gentle and pleasant.

You nod, "Delia, May I ask you a question?"

Delia looks at you, her expression curious and receptive.

"Of course," she replies politely, signaling that you can continue.

"Will you be following me to Arrakis?" You could not bear to lose her as a confidant

delia considers your question for a moment, her expression sober. She is aware of the intimacy you have developed together, and she genuinely values your conversations. She also knows the political complexities surrounding your marriage and the possibility of assassination attempts is very real.

She takes a moment to consider her response, her voice serious yet empathetic.

"I will be traveling to Arrakis with you," she says, her words measured and decisive. "There is no reason for me to remain here without you." You smile warmly

Delia's expression softens a bit, a slight twinkle to her eyes as she sees your smile. she is glad to see that you are pleased by her response, and her gaze lingers on you for one extra beat before she returns to her usual calm demeanor.

"Now—-we shall return to the fittings," she says, taking your arm and leading you back to the dress fitting area.

the fittings resume, the dressmaker calling out dresses and options for you to try on. Delia watches everything with careful scrutiny as the dresses are fitted and discussed. She is fully involved in the process, giving advice and input whenever she is asked. This goes on without incident, and the process runs smoothly and efficiently.

After several hours, the three dresses for the ceremony and reception have been tried on and fitted. The dressmaker makes a final few adjustments, and then steps back, seeming satisfied with her work. Delia is also satisfied, her eyes skimming over the dresses and jewelry and approving of the chosen selections.

Now it is time to choose your attire for the various parties and balls that will take place over the next several days. The women prepare the various items, discussing the details and final selections. Some of the pieces are quite striking and eye-catching. delia watches closely, remaining completely in charge of the selection process.

Eventually, the three dresses for the parties have been selected, with matching jewelry and accessories. The final touch is the dress for your journey back to arrakis a simple but elegant ensemble. The various items are quickly bundled up in travel bags, and the dressmaker steps back with a flourish.

Delia's expression is satisfied, her voice calm and confident.

"It looks like everything is set for the next few days. you'll have plenty of opportunities to wear all these lovely dresses, Delia says politely. she glances at you, one corner of her mouth faintly creasing upwards in a subtle smile.

"You have one final itinerary meeting and then your final final with the Duke and his mother before the ceremony." She walked up to you, "Tomorrow is a day of pampering" Delia says

A soft smile crosses your lips, your heart fluttering slightly at the mention of an all-day pampering session.

"That sounds wonderful," you reply, your voice warm and sincere.

———

Next chapter

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