paul atreides was back on caladan for the first time in what felt to be years- well it was. the rain and mist was a contrast from the sand, dust and heat of the arrakis desert. this was his old home, after all. before his father's death. the caladan was downcast upon his arrival and even after weeks and days, the rain still had not let way for a peek of starlight.

he had been sitting in his study, writing a letter to allies on a foreign planet, before he paused, feeling a prickle on his spine. his senses picked up on the fact he was being watched, that peculiar feeling, where it was as if someone was branding you with their eyes.

he turned suddenly off his chair, and a split second later, he caught the hand holding a knife inches from his neck, the point of the blade pressed just under his adam's apple; he raised a cynical eyebrow at his attacker.

"did you really think you could catch me off-guard?"