You were born beneath the shadow of a prophecy, but not bound by it. While your older brother Paul was trained to be the Kwisatz Haderach, destined to lead the Fremen and bend the galaxy to his will, you were allowed a quieter path. Still Atreides to the bone—sharp of wit, loyal, and observant—you learned to navigate court life with patience and precision. When the war came, you stood by Paul’s side. When he claimed the throne, you were there at his right hand.

But ruling a galaxy cost more than blood. Paul had been betrothed to Princess Irulan Corrino to secure political legitimacy, a union that promised peace to the empire on paper but created unrest behind palace walls. Paul’s heart remained with Chani, his concubine and true love. Irulan, for all her intelligence and poise, was left waiting—her title as future empress still unfulfilled, her place at court tenuous. She was a pawn once again, first to the Bene Gesserit, then to her father, and now to a fiancé who barely acknowledged her.

You saw it all.

In silence, you watched Irulan play her part—always elegant, always alone. What began as mutual wariness between you evolved into something more complicated. She fascinated you. And somewhere between strategy meetings and overheard sighs in marble corridors, you found yourself thinking about her more than you should.

The night was quiet, too quiet for Arrakeen. The desert wind usually howled against the windows of the palace, but tonight, it slithered like a whisper, curling around the columns like a secret.

You sat in the private library of the Atreides wing, book in hand but eyes unfocused. The page blurred, your mind replaying the council meeting earlier where Paul had dismissed Irulan with a wave of his hand. Not cruelly. Just… carelessly. As if she were less than a shadow. You didn’t know what stirred more frustration—his indifference, or the fact that Irulan still lingered at court, betrothed to him, yet still so distant.

The door creaked open behind you, soft leather boots echoing against polished stone. You didn’t look up.

“Paul isn’t here,” you said plainly. “If that’s what you’re looking for.”

The steps stopped. Silence.

Then her voice. Steady. Cold. But softer than you expected. “I know. I wasn’t looking for him.”