Time for round 2 of reveals for the 2024 Dune Mini Bang!
Like A Slow Blade by @jolinarjackson with moodboards by @acabspocky
Paul Atreides / Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen
Rated M Chapter 1/?
After House Atreides suffers a devastating attack by House Harkonnen on Arrakis, a now orphaned Paul is forced into an arrangement to live as Baron Harkonnen’s ward, alongside the Baron’s nephew Feyd-Rautha. With only Gurney remaining as his protection and Feyd-Rautha unexpectedly becoming something like an ally, Paul is determined to find a way to escape before they lose their lives… or themselves.
only splendor remains by @alakeeffectgirl with moodboard by @zaldritzosrose
Paul Atreides x Gurney Halleck
Rated E One-Shot
A strange spice affliction has taken hold of Gurney; only Paul can fix it.
When The Rain Washes You Clean by @shamwowxl featuring bonus playlist!
Paul Atreides / Chani Kynes
Rated G One-Shot
After the Fremen overtook Arrakeen and the Mahdi overtook Muad’dib, Chani left. She wasn't coming back.
But Chani is carrying a secret, and it draws her to Paul even as her fury pulls her away.
When he asks her to join him on Caladan, where water falls from the sky, she says yes.
A new Sayyadina? by @curlyallie with art by crispico
Chani Kynes / Gurney Halleck
Rated M 10/10 Chapters
Chani and Gurney's beautiful blended family and Irulan visit Kaitan to celebrate the 10-year wedding anniversary of King Farad'n and King Consort Faisal. But back home, Gurney and Chani will navigate the challenges of family life while Alia grows into a troubled teenager.
It was a sumptuous evening affair at Kaitan Palace. The entire known universe was celebrating the 10-year marriage anniversary of King Farad’n and King Consort Faisal. They had moved their seat of power from Salusa Secundus to Kaitan.
“Lady Irulan Cormac, Chief Executive Officer of U.L. Enterprises.”
Irulan approached the dais wearing sharp white trousers with a matching blazer, a lacey emerald green shirt underneath, matching emerald green kitten heels, and an emerald barrette in her perfectly coiffed short curls. She bowed, smirking. She then ascended the dais and into Farad’n’s jovial embrace.
“Lady Chani Halleck, Daughter of Liet, Sayyadina of Sietch Libr, Sayyadina Consort Sir Gurney Halleck and family.
Holding Gurney’s arm, Chani offered up a shy bow. In Kaitan Village, she had purchased soft violet Fremen-style robes made from Kaitan silk and a matching headscarf. She wore her dress Fremen sandals. Gurney wore his dress Atriedes uniform. The younger children - thirteen-year-old Usul Leto, ten-year-old Ghanima, eight-year-old Liet, and the three-year-old twins Thufir and Bricha wore matching black tunics with violet waistbands that matched Chani’s robe. Seventeen-year-old Alia refused to match her adoptive siblings. A shimmering silver robe covered up her evening wear. The older children had to hold onto the twins lest they scamper across the marble floor.
Farad’n motioned and Ghanima ascended the dais. She came to Farad’n and Faisal’s daughter, Lani - named for her birth mother Irulan. They giggled and embraced. They had met at camp and were best friends.
Produced by @dunefandomevents and featuring stunning artwork by our fearless leader @alexagirlie , I proudly present my submission, "The Prodigal Father." You're welcome!
The Prodigal Father - Alexagirlie, CurlyAllie - Dune Series - Frank Herbert [Archive of Our Own]
Produced by @dunefandomevents and featuring stunning artwork by our fearless leader @alexagirlie , I proudly present my submission, "The Prodigal Father." You're welcome!
The Prodigal Father - Alexagirlie, CurlyAllie - Dune Series - Frank Herbert [Archive of Our Own]
Coming soon to @dunefandomevents for Dune Mini Bang 2023, with art by our fearless leader, the lovely and talented @alexagirlie.
Here is a sneak peek of my short story, "The Prodigal Father."
The tavern’s band began to play. Chani observed how the patrons danced. The beat was steady, like a thumper. Couples were pressed together at their swaying hips. This was nothing like Fremen dance—ecstatic whirling to an accelerating beat accompanied by twinkling bells and hand drums. But when in Caladan . . . Chani pressed against her new husband, swaying, until he could stand it no longer and whisked her away to the inn upstairs, where they made love on a direwolf pelt in front of a roaring fireplace.
How handy Phillipa the nursemaid had come in, graciously watching the children at night so the newlyweds could have some time alone. Mostly to make love in as many places as possible.
I hereby gift this to @gigi-flash as a @dunefandomevents Secret Santa Gift Exchange!
"The Path Continues"
Inspired by and with text from "God Emperor of Dune" by Frank Herbert.
“Moneo! The Duncan!”
“Yes, Lord.”
The majordomo pushed a button which was immediately followed by a whirring sound. The blurred outline of a man descended from a glass tube and landed softly on his feet. The majordomo opened the glass door, and the ghola stepped into the stone chamber.
“You! My sworn enemy! A curse be upon your house!”
“Who is this, Lord?” the majordomo asked, gesturing at the creature standing timidly before them. Red wavy hair tumbled in layers, framing his face and resting softly on his shoulders. He was not a large man, but his frame was lean, his shoulders firm. The majordomo detected a slight curl in the ghola’s full lips, which if he was not so apprehensive, might have been taken for arrogance.
“Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen! His family nearly snuffed out my entire line!”
“Good day, Lord,” the ghola said with a timid yet reverent bow of the head.
“You will speak only when spoken to, you insolent boy!” shouted Leto.
Moneo looked at Leto and rotated his arm horizontally, pantomiming the end that so many Duncans had faced because of the God Emperor’s wrath.
“No, Moneo.” Leto rolled his cart to the back wall of the chamber. He gestured to Moneo, who followed him.
“Lord, I implore you. You have eradicated Duncans who have posed far less of a threat.”
“Don’t tell me what I already know, Moneo!”
“At best, the Tleilaxu have been grossly negligent. At worst, this could be a trap.”
“And what are we supposed to do, Moneo, declare war on the Tleilaxu?” asked Leto. Moneo had nothing to say. He was trapped. They were trapped. “He is an excellent fighter, in some ways superior to a Duncan. As my father before me, I believe I must let this play out.”
“Lord?” asked Moneo.
Leto rolled his cart closer to the ghola.
“Feyd?”
“Yes, Lord?”
“Have my Fish Speakers been good to you?”
“Oh, yes, Lord, very hospitable.” Feyd’s light cheeks bloomed into a blush when he remembered the Fish Speakers bathing him the night before.
“I can see from your blushing that you speak the truth,” Leto said with a grin. “Congratulations. You are now commander-in-chief of the Fish Speaker army. They are all at your disposal, in more ways than one. You may enjoy yourself as you see fit with any woman who will have you.”
“Thank you, Lord.”
“Except one,” Leto said sternly. “Hwi Noree. My betrothed.”
“Certainly, Lord.” Feyd, newly awakened to consciousness, was not yet in control of natural emotions. But he did his best to hide his disappointment before the intimidating monstrosity before him. All of the women in the God Emperor’s employ were strong and beautiful. But Hwi, made by Ixian engineers, was the most beautiful of all.
“Well then, I believe we’re done here. Rest well, ghola. Security arrangements begin bright and early tomorrow.”
“Thank you, Lord,” Feyd said, bowing before approaching the glass tube that would return him to his chambers.
Moneo could not help but ask himself: what did the God Emperor have in store?
Feyd held his palm over the palm lock and the door opened with a click. He stepped into his chambers. He stopped in his tracks with what he saw before him.
She was sitting elegantly in a plush chair, her fine brown skin glowing, her brown eyes bright, her long black braids slung over her left shoulder, her blue dress clinging to the perfect curves of her breasts and thighs. Hwi Noree. Lovely Hwi.
“You shouldn’t be here. Please leave,” pleaded Feyd.
“We need to discuss our attractions for one another,” said Hwi, her rich voice sweet and seductive.
“What attractions?” asked Feyd.
“Please, Feyd, you’re a terrible liar,” replied Hwi. “I can see it. And I feel the same. I want to hurl myself into your arms and feel the love that I know is there.”
“No! The Lord, he will kill us both!”
“He won’t, love.”
“I’ve been ordered never to touch you!” cried Feyd.
“If he knows it would hurt me, the Lord will not harm you. And he will never harm me, no matter what I do,” said Hwi.
“What if you conceive?” asked Feyd.
“If there’s to be a child, then there will be a child,” replied Hwi.
She rose from the chair and stepped towards Feyd. From a standing position, her blue dress clung to her goddess body even more beautifully. Feyd could do nothing more but let her approach. Hwi drew her arms around his firm waist and buried her face in his tunic. He could smell the sweet musk from her hair and skin. He lifted her chin.
“This is insane.” He kissed her. Then, he carried her to the bedroom.
Hwi untied the drawstrings at the neck of Feyd’s tunic and kissed the soft skin there before peeling it off him altogether. She drew her palms across his firm chest and shoulders. She unzipped his trousers, and he removed them himself. He needed her to assist, but Feyd removed Hwi’s blue dress. They kneeled on the bed facing each other, Hwi’s arms atop Feyd’s shoulders. He drew his thumb across her nipple, and she moaned before wrapping her arms around him and kissing him, her tongue slipping past his full lips.
“Wait, Hwi!”
“Yes?”
“I’ve done wrong in this!” Feyd could remember almost nothing about his life. But as he again felt the kiss and touch of a beautiful woman, he saw flashes of past wrongdoings. He could not piece them together. But deep down, he was terrified of what he may have done. Rape. Murder. Turning a blind eye as his uncle ravaged nearly every youth on Giedi Prime.
“Feyd, sweet Feyd,” Hwi said reassuringly. “Do you remember?”
“No.”
“If you did remember, would you have remorse?”
“Yes. I have remorse for what I do not remember.”
“Will you do wrong in this now?” she asked.
“Never!” he shouted. He kissed her and lay her down on the bed. Her pleasure would be his penance and his redemption. He moved his tongue in circular motions upon her clit. She moaned and quivered. He held himself up above her and was about to enter.
Then, there was a loud crash at the door. The hinges broke. The sound of turning wheels terrified Feyd. He looked at the door. Perched atop his cart was the God Emperor himself. Feyd screamed and threw himself underneath the covers. Hwi simply lay on her stomach, resting her chin in her hand and looking completely nonchalant.
“Hello, my love.” She could feel the sheets beneath her trembling with Feyd’s terror.
“Feyd! What did I tell you?” shouted Leto.
“Mercy, Lord, I beg you, mercy!” Feyd pleaded from underneath the covers.
“Do not insult me, you coward! You think I couldn’t see this?” There was a long, intentional silence. Feyd awaited the crushing weight of Leto’s body. Instead, Hwi alighted the bed and stood in perfect nudity before the God Emperor.
“My love.” She touched and kissed his cowled cheek. Her tongue darted between her lips and tasted of the spice essence. The worm moaned. She squeezed a larger amount and kneaded the purple essence between her fingers. Spreading her legs apart, she inserted the God Emperor’s essence.
“Come here, Feyd,” Hwi said sweetly. Feyd shook his head and remained beneath the covers.
“Now, Feyd, or I will kill you!” shouted Leto. Feyd reached for his trousers atop the sheets. “No! As you are!” Feyd tiptoed next to Hwi. There they were, two gorgeous, naked humans before an enormous worm deity. Hwi sucked more essence from Leto’s face and kissed Feyd, transferring droplets onto his tongue. Hwi took more essence with her hands and glided the slick substance up and down Feyd’s hard cock.
“It is time,” said Leto. Hwi took Feyd’s hand and guided him back to bed. Now, he entered. Hard and fast. Their tongues and loins burned with the spice essence. As their physical ecstasy was building, so were the ecstatic and frightening visions that accompanied the essence. Hwi giggled with delight; she knew to let the visions flow through her like water. But Feyd was terrified. He could now see that Harkonnens used cruelty to cover up the fear that consumed them always, fear like that of an abandoned child. He saw visions from his past more clearly. Oh, shame! He saw visions from a future that was either inevitable or possible. Horrible wars. Famine. The near destruction of the human race. He screamed. Then he came. Then, post-coital peace.
Leto did not kill Hwi. He did not kill Feyd. He did not even rage. He remained stationary atop his cart as the pair sighed with relaxed pleasure, and he grinned broadly.
“Through what has transpired today, the Golden Path shall continue.” Leto began to wheel himself from the room, and Hwi and Feyd collapsed onto the bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms.
Leto wheeled down the corridor in a state of complete satisfaction. He played over some past memories. He recalled the Reverend Mother’s rage at his father’s conception. An Atreides daughter was supposed to mate with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, ending the feud forever and passing on two sets of unstoppable genes.
But what about the decadent Corrino Empire? The violent Harkonnen fiefdom on Giedi Prime? The oppression of the Fremen? The perpetual exploitation of Arrakis? The love between his mother and father? His sister? The Golden Path.
Now, the galaxy had it all. The end of violence. The end of chaos. Harkonnen genes without Harkonnen violence. Harkonnen genes mingling with Atreides genes at this very moment. And Hwi. Lovely Hwi.
And as Leto entered his chamber to retire for the evening, he couldn’t help but think:
That Bene Gesserit breeding program has nothing on mine!
Links to all works published from September 10th to September 16th!
This is the final official week of posting, though 2 stories have extensions and will be finishing in the coming weeks.
The Snake in the Sand by @magpiesmudpie
“The Ceremony” by @curlyallie
Tibiyya; or, the Apocalypse of Mustafa by @silverman
Heaven Smiles Upon Him by @almostg
The Nazar in the Hamsa by @mawlz
Links to all works published from September 1st to September 9th!
that hugest whole creation may be less incalculable than a single kiss by Disgracie
The Pourpre Conspiracy: A Dune Fan Story by @avrip-writings
Under His Spell by chocolatebun
Our Roads Lead Into the Desert by Ava151
Freewomen of Arrakis by Primeideal
Elvis of Dune (2022) by @gex42s
Confessions of an Imperial Concubine by @imnotoverlyobsessive
The Snake in the Sand by @magpiesmudpie
Thank you @twurlsart for your gifts and @dunefandomevents for organizing!
It had been a long day in Sietch Libr. A joyous day, but a long day, nonetheless. Harah would be taking care of Usul Leto and Ghanima tonight. Alia was in all her glory! There would be a children’s celebration for her this evening. Seeing Alia’s seven-year-old eyes with more lightness than ever before brought joy to Chani’s heart.
It had been five years since Paul Atreides ascended the throne. He was now one year dead. Before the days of Muad’Dib’s Empire, the children of Sietch Tabr were frightened of Alia—her tricks and the dark and ominous things she would say even at the tender age of two. Moving into a new sietch after Paul died and his Empire disbanded was the fresh start that Alia needed. Because Alia and all Bene Gesserit had lost their powers, the Sietch Libr children did not fear her. Even so, Alia’s heart remained heavy. She had had little contact with her mother, the Lady Jessica, ever since Jessica left Arrakis for Caladan more than five years ago.
Jessica had sought comfort and refuge on what was once her home planet. But Jessica did not return to a warm hearth that was once the heart center of Caladan Palace. The palace had gone cold, dark, stale. Everything and everyone she loved about the palace was gone. The cherished staff killed during the Harkonnen siege on Arrakeen. Dr. Yueh. Duncan Idaho. Thufir Hawat. Most of all, her beloved Duke and her son Paul. As she wandered the lonely marble hallways, she could still imagine her young son running through those halls, robust from a happy childhood and unsullied by what awaited him on Arrakis. Alia had never been part of this home, so Jessica did not feel her absence at all. If anything, she was relieved to put emotional and literal space between herself and her terrifying daughter. Jessica could not bear to face her daughter knowing that she was to blame for Alia’s condition.
The only one from her past who remained was Gurney Halleck. How he annoyed her! This tuneful knight had also lost some of the sparkle from his eyes. She supposed the loss of Duke Leto had that effect on everyone who knew him. Gurney rarely picked up his baliset anymore. What was the point? There was no roaring fire, no flowing ale, no drunken revelers to sing and clap along. On the rare occasions when Gurney would practice, Jessica would yell at him to “stop that racket!” At least Gurney was someone to talk to when she couldn’t stand to be alone with her thoughts, and someone who would leave her alone when she demanded it. If Duke Leto’s death nearly destroyed Jessica, Paul’s death shattered any humanity left in her. Ultimately, her frail body succumbed to semuda addiction.
Jessica’s death made official what Alia had already been feeling: she was orphaned. In a way, she was relieved to be finally grieving a dead mother instead of a living one. But today was a day for celebration. Alia was baptized in the waters of life and reborn as Chani’s daughter.
Chani pushed through the curtain to her yali quarters, kicked off her sandals, and threw herself upon her sleeping pad, stretching out. Her muscles ached. They tired more easily after the fight for her life in Arrakeen Palace. She rubbed the telltale scar above her left ankle. She had not fully regained use of those muscles ever since her crysknife injury. Her heart was full, but she was exhausted and grateful for an evening of peace and quiet. Especially since the celebrations of the day rekindled disturbing thoughts that she had tried to suppress. Alia was not the only reason for the celebration …
Months earlier, Shaddam and Wencisia Corrino had kidnapped Chani’s three-year-old son Usul Leto and infant daughter Ghanima. In exchange for their safe return, Chani agreed to turn aside as House Corrino sent spice harvesters to Arrakis. The invading spice harvesters arrived on Arrakis at the exact moment when the Corrinos returned Usul and Ghanima to the neutral grounds of Arrakeen Palace where Chani desperately awaited their return. Shaddam and Wencisia immediately fled the palace, abandoning Chani and her two young children to their own fates.
The Arrakeen Square Fremen were the first to realize what had happened. Naturally, they were furious—especially the more zealous Fremen who already blamed Chani for Muad’Dib’s death. Some breached Arrakeen Palace. Chani hid Usul and Ghani in a closet and fought off many, but eventually she was outnumbered and surrounded.
Suddenly, Gurney Halleck and his Caladan troops arrived in Arrakeen Square. They guarded the city and palace walls. Gurney and his most elite soldiers stormed Arrakeen Palace and fought off the city Fremen who had surrounded Chani. She collected her children and fled to the roof with Gurney. Chani fashioned makeshift wraps by cutting large swatches from her robe with her crysknife. With Ghanima tied to Chani and Usul tied to Gurney, they climbed a rope ladder hung from a hovering ‘thopter. Chani could no longer climb when a Fremen who stood on the roof threw a crysknife at her that grazed her ankle. When Gurney and Usul had made it safely inside the ‘thopter, Gurney and another soldier hoisted the ladder upwards and pulled Chani and Ghanima into the ‘thopter.
Meanwhile, the Sietch Libr Fremen and their allies fought alongside soldiers sent by Irulan and her cousin Farad’n, who had disowned themselves from Shaddam and Wencisia. The invading spice harvesters were driven from Arrakis. A battalion from Sietch Libr travelled to the airfield where Alia killed Wencisia before she had the chance to escape. Although Shaddam was able to escape to Selusa Secundus, he died of lung illness shortly thereafter.
Gurney had learned that Usul Leto and Ghanima were in danger when the Lady Jessica admitted her role in their kidnapping. She had visited Sietch Libr under the guise of rebuilding a relationship with her daughter and grandchildren, wearing a tracking device. The Corrinos had promised Jessica a role in raising their heirs or a share of spice profits, depending on Chani’s decision. Jessica had squandered her inheritance from Paul on semuda and betting on the underground gladiator rings on Giedi Prime. The Corrinos exploited Jessica’s desperation and extreme loneliness and ultimately betrayed her, denying her everything.
Upon hearing Jessica’s confession, Gurney was overcome with remorse. He and Jessica had spent the last five years on Caladan, both of them willfully turning away as Paul’s Empire descended into madness. As Alia was overpowered by frightening past memories with no loving or trusting adult to guide her. As Paul’s son Usul Leto, who had inherited Bene Gesserit traits and prescient memories from Paul and additional Bene Gesserit traits from his birth mother Irulan, was suffering Alia’s same fate. As Paul’s daughter Ghanima was born nine months after his death. After Paul’s death, neither Gurney nor Jessica made any effort to become involved in the lives of his sister or his children. There was only one way Gurney saw fit to redeem himself to the Atreides’ family and to the memory of Duke Leto—he had to save Paul’s children. And their mother.
So, in addition to Alia, Sietch Libr was celebrating Gurney Halleck for his bravery and him joining Sietch Libr’s security detail. Upon presenting him with a beaded Fremen bracelet as a gift, Chani kissed his cheek—a common Fremen gesture of welcome and gratitude. But then she threw her arms around his neck. This instinctive act revived strong emotions that had taken root in the intensity of his rescue mission, his powerful arms enclosing her waist and pulling her and Ghanima to safety inside the hovering ‘thopter. As they lay safely on the floor of the ‘thopter catching their breath, Chani suppressed the urge to throw herself into his arms for the sake of her children in the small space with them and for the need to bandage her wound. When he led her into the Sietch Libr basin, supporting her so she wouldn’t put weight on her injured leg, both of them bloodied, beaten, and exhausted, she felt a kind of safety and comfort that she didn’t think possible after the events of that day. And as the world was going dark from shock, she knew to let her body fall backwards into his arms.
When Chani awoke, she glanced around her room hoping to find Gurney there. Her heart sank a little when she realized that he had left Sietch Libr. Harah explained that he needed to return his soldiers to Caladan safely. When Chani lowered her eyes in disappointment, she caught a quick smile from Harah in her peripheries. Harah must have known! She had practically raised Chani; she knew all of her motions and expressions. Chani didn’t know whether to feel embarrassed or comforted. But Harah knew that this was the only way to tease Chani, who needed to rest and recover. And Chani was a prideful woman; she so rarely shared her most private, burning feelings with anyone, even with her closest friends.
Chani had been raised a warrior, a fighter. She was always trained and ready to defend herself and her loved ones against any attack. But this ordeal revealed a desire that she never knew she had. Much as she loved and missed Paul, she was always the one to fight for him—to fight for them. She killed his would-be challenger. She fought for her place as his sole lover and wife; she lost that battle. A water of life vision revealed that Paul would not have been able to save her from a childbirth that would ultimately take her life. Most of all, although Chani was at peace with the life and death of her time with Paul, she never truly believed that he did all he could to protect their son.
The privacy of her sietch quarters was the only place Chani could face the emotions that had overwhelmed her that day. She drew the hem of her robe up to her hipbones and guided her hand underneath. As she closed her eyes, she heard a sharp whisper at the curtain door. “Chani! Chani!” She quickly pulled her robe back into place, leapt off her sleeping pad, and pulled open the curtain. Standing there was none other than -
“Sir Halleck!”
“Good evening, Lady Chani!”
“Just Chani, please, Sir Halleck!”
“I believe it’s Leiam now!” Gurney had chosen “Leiam-Halleck” as his Fremen name to honor Duke Leto. “Leto” was combined with the Fremen cry “yawm”, to hear. He hears Leto’s voice and honors his name. It was pronounced as “Liam”, a common name from the Earthen Island of Brittania. In reviewing his pictograph book about the Age of Earth, Gurney became inspired by the lore of ancient Brittania. Adventurous tales of metal-clad soldiers with romantic hearts. “Chivalry.” This informed everything about him, from his mannerisms to his songwriting to the pronunciation of his new Fremen name.
“Of course! Sir… Leiam… how did you find my place?”
“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle! Harah brought me here. With you. After the attack.”
“Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me. I would have been …”
“Unconscious, I know. I promise, I left as soon as the sietch medics arrived to tend to you. Would you like me to leave?”
“No, please come in!” She held the curtain above her head and Gurney stepped inside. They stood feet from each other in the center of the room while an awkward silence lingered. “Why are you…? How can I…?” Chani could not bring herself to ask the question, terrified that perhaps she already knew the answer.
“I…” Gurney nervously raked his fingers through his short hair. He realized he had not prepared what to say, so he spoke quickly to get through the moment. “It was so busy today. I wanted to thank you for this gift.” He touched a beaded bracelet tied to his wrist. “Personally.” On the bracelet, delicate beadwork spelled out Duke Leto’s saying, “Here I am, here I remain” in Old Fremen.
“You saved my life, Sir, and my children's. It’s the very least we can do,” Chani said quizzically. His demeanor betrayed him; he was not here to thank her.
“Lady Chani, I’ve earned many medals in service to House Atreides. Gleaming, prestigious awards made from precious metals. But none have meant more to me than this.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because it honors the memory of my friend rather than the glory of his name. The craftsmanship. The personal touch.” Chani stepped close enough to trace the beaded bracelet with her fingertip. She knew she should stop there, but instead cradled the back of Gurney’s hand and continued to trace the bracelet from the inside of his wrist. She then grazed her fingertip down the length of his palm, shifting her gaze from his palm to his eyes. He felt naked and vulnerable with this young girl’s searching and curious eyes upon him, her soft touch, delicate yet deliberate. Chani took a small step closer and guided his beaded wrist behind her until it took on its own motions and both of his arms softly enclosed her shoulders.
She breathed a closed-mouth sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. She felt so safe, yet so frightened. Her nose grazed Gurney’s neck. The scent of his skin and sweat combined with the glass of spice-wine that she had enjoyed at the celebration created a sudden vision. She could see him and her Paul on a training floor, crossing swords, sweating, in various positions and states of dress and undress.
She drew an audible breath and sharply turned her head towards his face. Every touch had been another step closer to the dangerous inevitable. Yet every touch and every step closer occurred so naturally. She leaned in. It didn’t take long to realize that they had kissed.
“At that ceremony today, it took all of my strength not to take you in my arms and kiss you right then and there in front of all those people!” Gurney said.
“I know, I know! I could feel it!” she replied, her voice trembling, and kissed him again. Gurney then pulled away.
“Chani!”
“Yes?” Chani asked, punctuating each break between words with a short kiss.
“I…I’m not certain that we should be doing this.”
“Why not?” Chani asked, feigning curiosity. She knew.
“I am younger than Duke Leto, he needed prime soldiers. But… I don’t know, but I could . . . I may have fifteen standard years on you. Even twenty.”
“You are?”
“Forty standard years. You?”
“Twenty-four standard years.” Gurney knew that this was a significant difference, but not unheard of or even considered egregious in either of their worlds. Chani was old enough to decide for herself, and she was certainly mature enough. He thought perhaps he should exercise caution, leave this place. And yet…
“Sir Halleck . . .” Chani said, interrupting Gurney’s wandering thoughts. “. . . Leiam . . . you flatter me with your tenderness. But I’m no longer a young girl sharing her first innocent kiss with Paul. I’m a woman. A mother. And I run this place!” she shouted, her confidence inspiring another kiss.
“Chani!”
“Yes?”
“What if you…what if I get…” In the past, Gurney had been ignorant of any consequences, or the women he had known had their own ways of managing. But this woman was different. Their quarters were too close, their years too varied, her place too important. He would not put her through that. Chani interrupted, laughing,
“Oh, don’t worry! It’s not the time for that. In fact, I . . .” She chewed her bottom lip and looked at the floor. “Oh, my maker!” she said, her voice trailing off.
“It’s alright, tell me!” Gurney said reassuringly, kissing her forehead. She closed her eyes and relaxed against him in a near swoon.
She wanted to tell him everything. That she hoped he saw her as more than a rescue mission. That since their escape from Arrakeen, hard as she tried, she could not stop thinking about him. That she rejoiced when he told her that his attractions matched her own. That she wanted every part of him. That she knew this was unwise. That she didn’t care.
“I had a feeling… that at the ceremony… you and me . . .”
“Prescience, my darling?” Gurney immediately regretted his choice of words, although they escaped him so automatically, like air.
“No, not prescience,” Chani replied, unsure what caused her more unease: that he had already referred to her endearingly, or that her heart fluttered when he did. She took a small step backwards. “Intuition. Ever since you rescued me, I’ve had this . . . feeling. That I must face. So, if something were to happen . . . so that I wouldn’t . . .” He tilted her chin upwards to meet her eyes. No escape. Now it was her turn to speak quickly, to get through the moment. “I tracked the Arrakis moons. I planned the ceremony thus.”
“Oh!” Gurney said just a touch louder than an exhale and kissed her deeply. “Then you’re certain?”
“Please, let me explain this clearly,” Chani replied. “I do not wish to become your lover. I do not want this often, lest I confuse what we are, you and me. I cannot say whether I will ever want this again. But I am certain, in this moment, in this place, in this night, I want this! Oh, how I want this!” Gurney resisted the urge to shout, “I want this too!” and smother her with his arms and lips. Instead, he summoned some of the coolness from his Caladan warrior days.
“As you wish, m’lady!” he said with playful sarcasm and kissed her hand. Chani laughed elegantly and stepped back into his arms.
Seduction taking hold in moments of danger is a natural phenomenon. Doors are opened through blood pumping, labored breaths, trembling. Gurney was personally familiar with this phenomenon. He had sung ballads of lovers saved, lovers slain, love blossoming in the wake of a gallant rescue. He himself had shared a bed with women he had rescued. Damsels, they were called. Soft skin, auburn curls, gossamer fabric clinging to soft curves.
Here was no damsel. She felt lithe and delicate in his arms, but sinewy muscles rippled underneath her slight frame. Chani would have rescued herself had she not been outnumbered and caring for two young children. They had found themselves in new, dangerous territory. Gurney had never rescued a capable warrior. Chani had never been rescued by a man. They had been thrown together in nature’s crucible. There was no way around it. They would burn.
Even so, Gurney knew from experience that these sorts of liaisons never lasted long. They were based on intense, fleeting passion—not mutual adoration. After the time of danger had long gone past, it never took long to realize that there was little common ground or respect, let alone love. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting this young girl; she had been through so much already. And he had broken some hearts before. But he could not condescend her. He was as enamored by her strength and conviction as he was by her beauty. She had stated her desires. On this night, he would follow her lead. He would treat her tenderly, yet as an equal, mutually respected participant.
Chani’s dark hair was swept up with loose tendrils framing her elven face. This reminded Gurney of ancient paintings in the Atreides’ household, dark-curled women draped in white linen. He twisted a curl through his fingers, setting off a fresh round of kisses.
Save for some lines around the corners of his eyes and lips, Chani observed that Gurney’s skin remained taut, his hair a mixture of sandy brown, blonde, and gray. Elegant, really. She was sure he was a most handsome warrior in his youth! She traced the scar along his jawline with her fingertips as if she were reading a map. A map of battles won. Honor. Valor. The favor of a comely maiden. Comely maiden. Comely . . . comely . . . comely. . .
This awakened a beast. Gurney lifted Chani off her feet and sealed his mouth on her neck in a kiss that was more teeth than lips. He carried her to her sleeping pad with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands collapsed around the back of his neck while she planted many quick kisses on his cheeks and lips. This felt forbidden. This felt right.
Gurney sat Chani upon on the horizontal edge of sleeping pad and tore her robes from her in one swift motion. He gently lay her down and she rested her feet on the floor. He caressed her breasts with his hands, lips, and tongue. He kissed a trail down her stomach. Kneeling on the floor, he worked his nimble fingers. The effect was immediate. Chani was already flushed from the drawn beginning. She didn’t want to be tasted. She wanted full-bodied contact.
Chani sat up and tugged on the collar of Gurney’s Atreides' ceremonial uniform, knowing she would not be able to remove it. He undressed slowly and methodically as Caladan decorum demanded, placing his neatly folded uniform on the floor. He stood before her and found himself completely unable to speak or move. She was nothing like the demure maidens or bawdy tavern wenches that he was familiar with. Those searching and curious eyes cut through him. The sudden change in context was unnerving, ecstatic moans replaced by a steely gaze, her casual nakedness. Her small frame and youthful appearance could not conceal the weathered wisdom of a desert leader. Chani stood. Rather than a tender, naked embrace, she grasped Gurney’s forearms and guided him to lay onto the sleeping pad. Reassuring, yet direct.
She held herself up by her forearms. “You’re beautiful,” Gurney said softly, and he tucked some of her loose hair behind her ear. She waited for a touch more softness to take her over, and then kissed his cheek. She could hold back no longer. She allowed her body to release. Now was the time for the tender, naked embrace, a prolonged kiss. Chani surprised and terrified herself with the labored intentionality of her motions. She and Paul had shared mutually inexperienced practice for a long time. Learning together. She thought perhaps it was the wiles that she had built up during her years with Paul. Or her imagination which by necessity had become more vivid during her years alone. Or that she now shared space with a man who had been through an exhilarating event with her—a chivalric, romantic, experienced man. No matter the reason, her motions and touch were so instinctual.
Chani controlled her rhythm to blossom into a steady tremble. Then she lay on her back and drew up her knees to welcome a deep engagement. She caressed the powerful muscles in Gurney's arms and shoulders. Even during her most passionate moments with Paul, she sometimes wondered what it would have been like if he had been more muscular. She savored Gurney’s rippling arms clutching her body to his own, their complete connectivity. This was real. Not even the most vivid spice-orgy vision could replicate real live bare skin, or the filling of her secret space.
As Chani sensed the end nearing, she twinged herself. Automatic spasms took over. Gurney was a reserved and dignified lover, but at this moment, he moaned loudly. All reservoirs broke. At last, all tension had been cast out. All that remained was collapsed bodies, a tangle of limbs and lips, sweat, trembles, and languid breaths.
Glancing down at their exposed bodies, they quickly climbed under the vivid orange bedspread, both feeling an immediate need for modesty despite what they had experienced together seconds earlier. Gurney drew the edge of the spread to his waist, Chani to her breasts. He recalled an early passage from the Orange Catholic Bible. It was from the tale of the first humans to find one another on a virgin planet after the last thinking machine had been destroyed: “They realized that they were naked.” This passage made more sense to him now than ever before. It explained how they had completely exhausted their capacity to withstand raw vulnerability.
Afterwards, Chani alternated between grazing her palms over the hair on Gurney’s chest and tracing designs on his chest and stomach with her fingertips as if she was etching ancient cave drawings. Now that the buzzing energy had finally been released, Chani could see why she had sought out this entanglement with this man. The deep sensuality of the present gave way to painful memories of the past. Except now, she could view those memories with objective clarity.
When Paul became Emperor, Chani decided that she could not stay with him in Arrakeen Palace as his concubine. She would not accept her love being wed to someone else—even if it was in name only. In the four years between her separation from Paul and their final reunion before his death, Chani had become a strong leader, a Sayyadina of her own sietch. But she also kept an empty bed. These were lonely nights. There had been suitors. And as a sietch Sayyadina, she could have initiated a discrete tryst if she desired something asides from formal courtship. But even though she chose the separation, the thought of her Usul being only a desert away tied down her heart. She kept asking herself: Was he happy? Was he thinking of her? Would she ever see him again?
These questions were answered in time. No, he was not happy. Yes, he was thinking of her, day and night. And yes, she did see him again, one last time.
Chani’s sietch had long been operating as independent from Muad’Dib’s Empire, aptly named “Sietch Libr.” The members of Sietch Libr refused to swear fealty to a man-god or his Empire and demanded an end to the interstellar jihad. The ruthless head of Paul’s Qizarate army, Korba, took this as an act of sedition and heresy. So, the Qizarate moved to quell Sietch Libr in a battle colloquially referred to as the “Lovers’ Battle of Arrakis.” During his tutelage, Korba had been drugging Paul and forging his cruel decrees. Paul became aware of this and recovered from his withdrawals on the eve of the battle. He flew a ‘thopter to the battlefield and began a desperate search for Chani. Meanwhile, Paul’s sister Alia and his toddler son Usul Leto had been training with anyone willing to teach them the “weirding way” knowingly or unknowingly. At the battle, Alia and Usul used the Voice to stun the Qizarate soldiers. The Sietch Libr fighters and their allies were able to withstand the Voice because they had taken small amounts of the water of life before the battle. In using the Voice, Alia and Usul caused a reaction that shattered all Bene Gesserit powers, including their own, thus bringing an end to the Order and its draconian breeding program. Chani and her allies revived many of the stunned Qizarate soldiers with the water of life, cleansing them of their brainwashed obsession with their false deity, Muad’Dib. However, a sandstorm swept in in before they could all be revived. Those that awoke and survived the battle and sandstorm without being cleansed by the waters of life were at great risk of falling back into blind devotion.
At the battles’ end, Paul saw Chani through a dusty haze, walking across the sand and kneeling above the stunned soldiers, pouring drops of the water of life into their mouths from her water ring, helping them stand as they convulsed awake. She looked like an angel, or what he imagined an angel might look like from reading the Orange Catholic Bible that Gurney had given him. He smiled for the first time in what felt like years, placing his hand over his heart. Chani saw Paul through the blowing sand just as the storm was beginning to pick up speed.
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Chani rushed Paul to safety inside of a rock cave. All emotions, confessions, tears, passion, and love that had built up over the past four years broke free. Their tears washed away Muad’Dib, revealing the beloved Usul that lay beneath. The speed and roar of the sandstorm that raged outside provided the perfect cover of privacy for lovers reunited. In those moments, Paul learned that Chani’s mission was only a partial success. He knew there was only one way to stop the madness that his Empire had created.
Chani and Paul ascended from the rock cave as the sun was beginning to rise over the dune horizon. They walked hand-in-hand across the desert floor; she stayed by his side until he drove her thumper into the sand. As Chani walked away when the sand ahead of them began to crest, she could hear the Arrakis winds carry Paul’s voice across the dunes. She could make out snippets of him shouting the “Makers’ Blessing” that she had taught him and the “Litany Against Fear” that he had taught her. And though he told her not to look back, she could clearly see in her mind’s eye Paul’s face streaked with tears as he raised his head to the sky, staring down the spike-lined mouth of Shai-Hulud.
After their final confessions to one another and Paul’s death, Chani had found a new peace. But her heart remained tied. She had to rebuild her sietch; many lives had been lost in the Lovers’ Battle of Arrakis and the sandstorm that followed. And she was suddenly thrust back into motherhood . . .
During his marriage, in a moment of pure loneliness and resignation, Paul spent one evening with Irulan. She bore him a son named Leto Shaddam. It was then she realized that she was conditioned to produce an heir rather than meant to be a mother. After Paul’s death, when Irulan saw the love in Chani’s heart, she made a brave and heartfelt choice. Hers and Paul’s son was reborn to Chani and renamed Usul Leto. Also realizing that she was conditioned to marry Paul rather than meant to be his wife, Irulan carried no resentment that Chani had conceived Paul’s child during their final goodbyes. She would be named Ghanima—a victor’s prize in the Lovers’ Battle of Arrakis.
So, for years, Chani’s heart was bound by every extreme of grief, pain, strength, fear, bliss, loss, doubt, loneliness, and ecstatic joy. But on this night, the night of the ceremony, Chani unbound her heart. She released any physical, lingering attachment to Paul. She released an unbearable tension with the only man who could help her to release it. She was finally ready for a new path. A humorous, curious path that the maker would choose for her or anyone worthy to join her on this path.
Meanwhile, Gurney saw that there was no reason to worry that he would hurt Chani. If anything, he wondered if his heart might break a little, knowing what this night was and was not, what would and would not become of him and Chani. He couldn’t imagine how Master Paul managed after they parted, given that Paul had experienced every manner of love from her. The only reasonable answer is that he could not and did not manage. Gurney realized that one of the many ways in which he failed Paul was by not advising him to do everything he could to keep this woman by his side. To, in the words of the Orange Catholic wedding vows, “forsake all others”, in title and in passion. Even if it meant forsaking his chance as Emperor.
Then again, if Gurney had advised Paul as such, and if Paul had heeded such advice, Chani may not have become a Sayyadina of her own sietch. Usul Leto may not have been born. Usul Leto and Alia may not have destroyed the Bene Gesserit powers. Usul Leto and Alia may have been condemned to a life of torturous past memories. Usul Leto may not have been reborn to Chani. The interstellar jihad may have continued. The planets conquered in the jihad may not have been emancipated. Irulan and Chani may not have become the closest of friends. Irulan may not have become a successful businesswoman. Ghanima may not have been born. Irulan may not have ended up carrying a child for her cousin Farad’n and his husband Faisal. And Gurney may not—would not—have had this most incredible night. Perhaps this is what the Fremen mean when they sing the ancient Chakobsa song of jubilation, “deeyanu”—it would have been enough.
Gurney took comfort in knowing that he had shared of himself what Chani had asked of him. He would be glad for her if she chose a suitor. Most of all, he knew that every time he would look at her, serve her, he would remember this night.
Tomorrow, Gurney would officially join Chani’s employ. The head of Sietch Libr’s security detail and Harah’s wife, Bricha, would be training him. Thinking of all the ways in which Bricha would put him in his place made Chani laugh. She would see her children in the morning, and she was looking forward to it! But this moment, this night, was hers.
“Leiam?” Chani quietly said, looking up at Gurney with sleepy, satisfied eyes.
“Hhmm?” In that moment, he noticed how beautiful her eyes were. He wasn’t sure whether it was the soft glowglobe lighting, her radiant skin, or that she was about to slip into dreams, but it appeared as if she was wearing dramatic eye makeup.
“Thank you.”
“No,” Gurney whispered as he caressed and kissed the top of her head. “Thank you.”
And nestled against a man’s chest, she slept more soundly than she had since the very last night of her very first “time of quiet between storms.”
Inspired by Dune by Frank Herbert, Copyright owned by Brian Herbert, Includes text from Dune by Frank Herbert, Inspired by Speed, Screenplay by Graham Yost
The privacy of her sietch quarters was the only place Chani could face the emotions that had overwhelmed her that day . . . As she closed her eyes, she heard a sharp whisper at the curtain door. “Chani! Chani!”
She quickly pulled her robe back into place, leapt off her sleeping pad, and pulled open the curtain. Standing there was none other than -
Coming soon to @dunefandomevents for Dune Mini Bang 2022, with art by @twurlsart
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