paul atreides had been under the guise that the only time he would be bedridden and weak was when he was an old, old man, surrounded by his family and advisors as he was about to traverse to the end of the beginning; that could not have been further from the reality.

enveloped within the opulent confines of his chamber, reclined upon the sumptuous expanse of velvet blankets that cocooned his lean frame, paul, in the throes of his youth, had fallen ill. his mother, lady jessica, was unwavering on the sentiment of insisting that he took the fortnight off from his duties as duke to regain his full health.

this was hence why he was propped in a sitting position, ensconced with the lush velvet blankets of his bed, his lithe fingers wrapped around a mug of warm water with a subtle infusion of spice. though it was not a serious ailment and bore no dire consequence, the relentless onslaught of chills, sleep deprivation, and an insistent migraine besieging his left frontal lobe conspired to put him in a foul mood.

to add insult to injury, you were tasked with tending to him, the last person he wanted to be able to see him in such a delicate state. he was glowering at you through narrowed eyes over the rim of his mug as he took a sip, the pungent aroma of oils and incense wafting through the air like a shroud of incantation.

"i am perfectly capable of managing on my own." paul murmured, the bite in his voice somewhat dampened by the fact that his formerly commanding and resonant voice had been reduced to a husk by the most strenuous interval of his illness. "there is no need for your incessant fussing, i am not going to simply drop dead in your absence."