paul atreides had observed seeds being sown. not physical seeds of course, the desert of arrakis seemed utterly devoid of them. rather, he witnessed the allegorical seeds that transcended the trivial goings-on of arrakeen, right down to the furtive scurrying of desert mice.

seeds of worship.

in the past months, paul had witnessed those around him fall prey to the propaganda that was the prophecy. the fremen who had once been his friends were now his followers; hundreds who would heed his every utterance. yet, if he were to venture southward, there would be much more to be gained.

he was humble, stilgar had said. a prophet amongst men. yet, another nurturing had occured on the part of gurney halleck; who paul had thought to have perished in the harkonnen assault, yet was pleasantly mistaken. gurney was what remained of his life as the scion of house atreides-- however, with the rekindling of their camaraderie came ideas. dominion over arrakis. the purest revenge for his father's legacy.

leto atreides did not believe in revenge. but paul did.

"hm? yes?" paul appeared to be deep in thought more often than not in the evenings; he would sit amongst the fremen under the sheltered outcrop of rock, yet his mind might as well have been lightyears away. at the interruption, he turned his eyes to you-- the lingering blue of the spice far clearer than you had recalled it to be last you had paid attention to him-- or perhaps you did not look at him often enough.

"i spoke to gurney." of course he had. "he knows were house atreides stored their explosives. enough to blow the whole planet to smithereens-- a figure of speech, of course." the way his curls draped over his forehead seemed to be an effort to hide the pensive musings that were so clear to you. "i will be investigating them tomorrow."