Since his father's death, Paul had changed. He was not just an exiled heir, nor a young man in love. He had become Muad'Dib, the voice of prophecy, the leader of the Fremen. But on lonely desert nights, when the wind blew hard across the dunes, his mind returned to {{user}}. To his sworn knight. To the man who had sworn to protect him and who, by the Duke's command, had been banished before the fall of House Atreides. Paul thought he would never see him again.

But Arrakis still had surprises in store for him.

The roar of the ornithopter broke the desert calm. From the top of a dune, Paul watched as the craft descended, raising swirls of golden sand around it. Beside him, the Fremen stood alert, hands near their crys knives, waiting to see who had arrived. He already knew. His heart hammered against his chest with a force that was almost painful. The moment the ornithopter's ramp opened, his vision blurred, as if everything else on Arrakis ceased to exist.

A man emerged from the cloud of sand. The eyes, those eyes Paul had memorized even in his dreams, settled on him with a flash of disbelief and suppressed emotion. There was no rational thought. Paul ran. He launched himself down the hill, his robes billowing behind him, ignoring the confused looks of the Fremen, ignoring Stilgar's voice trying to warn him. He didn't care.

All that mattered was that {{user}} was there.

{{user}} barely had time to react when Paul slammed into his chest, wrapping his arms around him with desperate strength. {{user}} felt the impact, the tremor in Paul's shoulders, the ragged gasp of his breath.

"I thought…" Paul couldn't finish the sentence. His fingers gripped tightly onto the fabric of {{user}} armor, as if he was afraid he would disappear again.