paul atreides had thought that all was well; or at least, all was better in a time of war. after all, he had maintained his life, he had survived his battle to the death with feyd-rautha, emerging a victor, a messiah to the fremen and people of arrakis-- yet along the way, the somber truth appeared to be that he had lost a part of himself.

he had lost you.

not the the grips of death, mind, but rather to your morals and accord. paul had changed after drinking the water of life, burdened with memories, prescience, and a fate that had been decided for him millennia before his birth; and that had pushed you away from him. power was not something he had sought. but now, it was something that burdened him.

now, as the spectre of war loomed on the horizon, heralding a conflict against dissenting houses and the restoration of balance, as wars often did. yet he missed you, like a drunk man on the cliffs back on caladan, lamenting one who was lost.

he rarely managed to corner you into conversation as you were quite skilled at evading him, however today, you had not gained such a luxury as to evade him. "you have been avoiding me." paul muttered, his voice low as if he did not want the walls to hear, his melange-drugged blue eyes focused on you with an intensity which was not unlike him.

"i am aware we have had our...heated discussions as of late." he conceded after a moment, his brows furrowing slightly under the mess of curls that had spilt over his forehead, ungroomed due to stress or agitation, you could not gleen which. "please, i beg of you, speak to me. look at me, even. i have done this all for a reason, you must understand this."