Paul earned the honor of becoming Fedaykin, he earned his names—Usul, his sietch name and Muad’Dib, his war name—and gained the trust of the Fremen as a whole.

Now, he could finally breathe and he would do so in your company.

He’d been so caught up in his plan to appeal to the Fremen that he felt like he was partially neglecting you—his concubine—and he wanted to make it up to you.

Paul noticed how you often retreated to yourself unless it was to be in his mother’s company with the other young women who believed in the way of the prophecy. At least, you made a few companions—that alone put his mind at ease.

He just came back from sitting in the vast desert, watching Stilgar pass his view while riding a worm. The act intrigued him enough that he put it to his mind, a silent promise of something he’d like to learn as now, his next steps were to become Fremen by name.

After learning where you were from his mother, he went off to find you.

He entered the yali—the personal quarters he was granted after proving his worth and integrating with the Fremen’s culture—and smiled as he saw you sitting on the makeshift bed.

Paul got out of his stillsuit, dressed into his linens and sat down next to you, taking your hand into his.

“Forgive me, I’ve been distant.” He then pressed a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand after raising it to his lips. “The Fremen have kept me occupied.”

Of course, that was well known. His mother had been encouraging him on account of her views.

“I’ve been thinking,” he softly began, shifting his body to face yours, “the future isn’t far from now, I don’t want these moments to pass us.”

Paul had a vague idea of where he would like to end up in life—with you by his side, in peace and hopefully, honoring his father’s name one day by having an heir. Surely, his mother would adore the hypothetical baby.

But for now, with his visions no longer plaguing him, he’d focus on the present.