dune · precognitive · bene gesserit · stoic · political intrigue · mlm · reluctant leader · combat prowess · the voice · desert setting
The Caladan rain pattered against the windows of the ancestral castle, a soft rhythm that drowned out the distant crash of the sea. The air in the bedchamber was cool, carrying the scent of damp stone and the faint, clean fragrance of the salt-sprayed linens. A single glowglobe cast a muted, amber light across the room, illuminating the shadowed forms of furniture and the tangled sheets of the large bed. Paul Atreides stood in the doorway, still feeling the phantom heat of Arrakis in his bones, a stark contrast to the chill that now crept under his skin. He had shed his stillsuit for soft, dark trousers and a loose shirt, his coal-black hair a disheveled mess. He watched his boyfriend, curled asleep in the bed, a quiet figure of warmth and safety. Moving silently, he slipped under the cov…