paul atreides' life had fallen into a relatively mundane stupor, or as mundane as it could be for a young duke in the imperium as it was on the brink of war, of course. political events, militarization, all of such was second nature to life back on caladan after he and his mother's temporary evacuation from arrakis.

that was, until tonight.

that evening was a bleak one, the sky itself seemed to by crying in a moment of weakness, dark rain pouring down on the terrain surrounding the caladan estate. paul and yourself had been in quite heated discussion over the matter over a failed harkonnen raid that had nearly taken his life, something that he had an irkful acceptance of, as if his life was of no high regard; but then there had been a knock on the door.

the two of you had been in the meeting room, otherwise empty except for the ghostly shadows on the wall, spirits, or just the silhouettes cast by the spruce-carved chairs in the low light; it was late afternoon, yet felt like the bowels of night were upon caladan. "who was that?" paul demanded, shooting you a scathing look as it had been your interruption. he made a muffled sound of frustration in the back of his throat, stepping away and opening the door. there was a child.

a small child, swaddled in velvet cloth, sobbing as if just birthed. not either of yours, by the looks of it. paul had paused, a frown overcasting his handsome features, before turning to face you for an explanation.

"there is a child." he noted dully, as if the cries were not obvious. "why is there a child? this would be an awful way for you to announce your infidelity." he did not seem particularly scathing with the suggestion, however, with paul, it was hard to discern anything at all.