DUNE-A False Haderach-Ch.36 (Patreon)

Chapter 36

CHANI KYNES

Chani paced as she waited for Paul to wake up. Each passing second made her question the stupidity of his decision, yet she could do little but pace as time trickled away and she watched the love of her life lay limp on the ground.

And just as she turned away, she saw him wake up, his eyelids fluttering, and she raced towards him.

“Paul! Paul,” she called out as he opened his eyes, and she was taken aback by them. They were bluer than they had ever been, much like her own eyes, and as he looked at her, there was a sort of reverence in them that was not there.

“You, you are still here,” he said as he touched her face. She nodded and gripped his hand.

“Of course I am,” she said as relief began to fill her up, and she took out the water flask and handed it to him.

“Come drink,” and yet he hesitated, pushing the flask away angrily.

“What happened?” she asked worriedly. She saw his eyes narrow as he began to breathe quickly while examining his hands and body.

“This is my water. Come on, take a sip,” she said. She saw him look into his eyes, and she finally noticed the difference in that gaze. Previously, when Paul looked at her, his gaze was filled with passion and love; this was filled with reverence and longing.

He slowly reached for the mouth of the waterskin and took a sip as she helped him to his feet. And she saw him open and close his fists as he walked and jumped as if trying to acclimate himself to his body.

“Are you fine?” she asked worriedly, and he nodded as he smiled at her.

“Yeah, I am,” he said, and she sighed in relief.

“So, it worked?” she asked, and he nodded.

“In some ways, it did,” he said before she glanced at her watch.

“It’s nearly time for the kanli,” and as she was about to move away, he pulled on her hand and into himself as he wrapped his arms around her and buried his head into the crook of her shoulder, yet this was not a lover’s hug.

No, this felt more like a child clinging to his mother.

“You have no idea how much me and Ghanima longed for this,” and she was taken aback by those words as a chill passed down her spine. Before she could do anything, she felt a blow to the back of her head as she felt her body grow limp, and her vision darken.

“I am sorry for this, Mother,” Paul said as he looked into her eyes. There was remorse in that gaze as he gently lowered her to the ground.

“Mot...” she tried to say, but the words did not finish as he laid her down.

“You are just as Ghanima and I thought you were. Just stay here, and let me handle that pretender,” he whispered, and she realized who he was talking about.

“No...” she tried to raise her hand to stop him, yet it fell back down only after a few seconds as he stood up.

“I am sorry, Mother.” With that, he turned towards the gathered apprentices. As the last vestiges of her consciousness faded away, she heard the command come out of his mouth.

“Take care of her. Do not let her leave!”

INZAL KAZAB CORRINO

Inzal was used to looking at the whole world. His powers allowed him to glimpse people and places far away, and so it was unique that the eyes of everyone in the room were focused on him as he sat on his father’s throne.

“Kazab,” Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was the first to break out of his trance as he stepped forward.

His gaze filled with complex emotion. No doubt his infamy has reached the ears of the Baron-na.

“What kind of sick joke is this?” he snarled, and Inzal raised a brow.

“I am afraid I do not get your point,” he taunted and saw Feyd’s fists ball up.

“You cannot be serious. You want us to believe that you are the Emperor’s son. Preposterous. It is well known that the Emperor had no sons, only weak daughters to carry his name,” he snarled as he smirked at Irulan, whose face flushed in rage.

“I am afraid. My existence was kept hidden from the world for my safety. But I am the Emperor’s son in all ways but one,” he began softly. Instantly, the smile was gone from his face as Inzal used the Voice.

“I do not share my father’s patience for your family!” he snarled and saw the young Baron-na step back from the sheer impact of his powers.

“I am the Emperor, and you shall show me the respect appropriate to that station,” he continued.

“Do you understand that, cretin!”

And he watched as the bald white-skinned bastard’s fists balled up, his face contorting in rage and humiliation as he was forced to kneel down and nod.

“I do, your grace.”

And with that, the doors to the throne room opened once more, and in walked the boy who had returned after taking the biggest gamble of his life. He saw Lady Jessica stiffen at the appearance of her son, and why wouldn’t she?

It was difficult to tell for those who were not close to Paul, but those who knew of the boy could tell the difference at a glance. Paul had changed. The nervousness and agitation that had surrounded him were now long gone, replaced by a cut-throat and dangerous aura.

Their eyes met, and Inzal saw Paul’s lips thin as the two of them stared at one another before the young Atreides shifted his gaze onto his immediate opponent.

“It is good to see you, cousin, though I am not sure I could call you that” Paul’s words shook the entire court room, and the Harkonnen boy frowned, for the last sentence had been said in a whisper barely audible.

“Really, I never knew,” he added, recovering that quickly from that emotional blow.

“Neither did he-I,” Paul added as they began to circle each other.

“Though I believe to you it matters little, of course,” and at that once more, Paul glanced at him, as Inzal’s eyes narrowed as he tried to make sense of what was going through his head.

“Indeed, after all, it wouldn’t really be the first time I have killed my own blood,” Feyd replied as one of his servants stepped forward and presented a case with his blades.

And at that, Paul took out his own dagger and raised it to his head, and yet he was not staring at Feyd-Rauth but rather at him.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” he called out as Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen smiled and put the tip of his dagger over his protruding tongue.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” and then, with a breath, they both jumped at each other, swinging their daggers at one another, they were both quick, their movements precise as their blades evade each other by mere inches.

They clashed, and Paul spun on his heel as he tried to skewer him on the side, yet Feyd Rautha jumped back and kicked the Atreides boy back.

“AGHH,” Paul stumbled but gave Feyd no opening as he slid under his arching swing and kicked Feyd’s leg before trying to aim at his back, but the Harkonnen butcher avoided it as well and swept his leg, making Paul jump back.

“You are quick, but not quick enough,” Feyd taunted as he approached Paul once more, and this time their daggers got locked. The white-haired boy pulled back his head and head-butted Paul, whose weaker constitution made him reel back before forcing him to straddle back to avoid another attack, as Feyd began to mount up the pressure.

CLANK!

CLANK!

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FEYD-RAUTHA HARKONNEN

He watched as the Atreides was forced to retreat, and the thin boy barely avoided his blows and Feyd smirked as he began to overpower the boy, and he could feel his victory, smell it even as blood dripped down.

“It’s over, Atredies,” he said and the boy shifted as rather than jumping back he stepped forward surprising him.

“Yes, it is,” and with that, he felt a stab in his thing and grunted in Pain as the bastard slipped under his strike and got behind him. Feyd was forced to swing as he turned while pain seared in his leg, and he felt his dagger cut his arm, but it was a shallow cut. It did not seem to bother him as he swung once more, and he was forced to bring forward his other hand as he stopped his blade inches away from his face and swung at his side and the boy jumped back, but he felt his blade cut him once more.

And yet, as he looked into his eyes, he saw no pain or nervousness in that gaze.

“You are not scared,” he asked, and the boy nodded.

“I have no reason to be scared,” and then he saw his grip over his blade loosen as it fell down, and in the next second, as he tried to pull back, Paul gripped him, stopping him from pulling back as the dagger was lodged into his chest, making him grunt in pain as he stumbled back.

“GUGH!” blood spat out his mouth as he began to feel weak and tired all of a sudden, the strength in his arms going away as his dagger fell down with a thud, and he fell to the ground.

“You....” he tried to curse, but his mouth was full of blood, as he heard a distant scream from the crowd.

“NOOOOO!” and glanced to the side and found his uncle, the Baron, had stumbled out of his chair and had fallen to the ground, his hulking body on the ground as he screamed.

“GET UP! GET UPPP!” he screamed, yet Feyd had no more energy. He felt his vision blur up, and Paul stepped over him and kept looking down at him.

“You would have lasted longer against the Emperor Paul Atreides,” the boy whispered, his words making no sense to him.

Emperor Paul? What was he talking about?

“A shame that it was not the Emperor Paul that you faced, but rather the God Emperor...” he continued, making him frown as darkness began to envelop his vision.

“What none...r....yo...talk... about.....” he gasped out.

“Nothing you would understand. After all, it was your fate that you would die today, nothing more.”

“Fate, huh?” he coughed out.

“Indeed, it was all fate, pre-determined in the path for humanity’s salvation,” the boy spoke cryptically as everything around him faded into nothingness.

“...in Golden Path....”

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Hahahaha.

Plot Twist Baby!