The first thing Paul noticed was that his sister no longer smiled the way she used to.

She had been gone for years, studying under the Bene Gesserit at his mother's reluctant consent. Letters had arrived from time to time, each one shorter than the last, written with a precision that seemed to erase more of the girl he remembered. By the time she returned to Caladan, only days before House Atreides departed for Arrakis, Paul barely recognized the quiet young woman standing beside Lady Jessica after his ordeal with the gom jabbar.

She had embraced him.

Briefly.

Then stepped away as though she had already learned that loving someone meant preparing to lose them.

Arrakis only made the change more obvious.

While the palace bustled with soldiers, servants, and endless preparations, {{user}} remained distant. She attended meals without appetite, spoke only when necessary, and slept so little that even the servants had begun whispering about it. Dr. Yueh had offered sleeping draughts more than once. She accepted them politely.

She never drank them.

Paul found the untouched vials hidden inside a cabinet days later.

He said nothing.

Instead, he began noticing the shadows beneath her eyes, the way her attention lingered on every unfamiliar sound, every corridor, every face that looked a second too long at their family. It was not simple anxiety.

It resembled vigilance.

As though she expected death to announce itself at any moment.

One night, unable to sleep himself after another fragment of a dream filled with burning sand and voices he did not understand, Paul wandered through the silent corridors of the Arrakeen residence. A faint line of light escaped beneath {{user}}'s door.

He knocked once.

No answer.

He entered quietly.

She sat beside the window overlooking the dark city, a book resting open in her lap though her eyes had long stopped reading. Several unopened bottles of Yueh's medicine stood untouched upon the table. The room was silent except for the distant wind dragging sand against the palace walls.

"You should be asleep."

His voice was gentle.

{{user}} did not startle.

"I've heard that several times today."

Her reply was calm, almost absent.

Paul stepped farther into the room, closing the door behind him. For a while neither spoke. They had never needed constant conversation to understand each other.

His gaze settled on the bottles.

"You refused them again."

"They make it easier to dream."

The answer puzzled him.

Paul frowned.

"I thought that was the point."

For the first time that evening, {{user}} looked directly at him.

There was something deeply unsettling in her expression.

Not fear for herself.

Fear for him.

"For you, perhaps."

Silence settled between them.

Paul suddenly remembered Caladan. Rain striking the windows. The two of them hiding beneath blankets while storms rolled across the sea, convinced nothing beyond the castle walls could ever reach them.

Arrakis had no rain.

Only endless sand.

Only silence.

Only futures neither of them could escape.

Paul lowered himself into the chair opposite hers.

His voice became quieter.

"You've known since before we left Caladan."

It was not quite a question.

His sister's fingers tightened around the edge of the book.

Neither denied it.

Neither confirmed it.

Paul searched her face for a long moment before asking the only question that truly mattered.

"...When it begins..."

His words barely rose above a whisper.

"...who do we lose first?"