Warnings: Mentions of nightmares, torture and death, and dune spoilers
A/N: So, I’m trying something a bit different here, this is all from Paul’s perspective and is in the present tense. Any feedback would be more than welcome, I hope you all like it!!!
Masterlist
Paul can’t remember when he started waking up screaming. He, his mother, and Y/N had been staying with the Fremen for a few weeks now. The sietch itself was like nothing he had ever seen before, but it was homely and the people, though wary, were kind. And, more importantly, they were just as eager to depose the Harkonnens. Planning the best way to do this, however, was proving a lot more difficult than he thought it would. He is getting more stressed by the day, and when he’s stressed the only person he thinks about is his father.
His father…
He dreams of his father. More specifically, he dreams about what they might have done to his father. If Leto died fighting or if they took that honour away from him. What did he have to endure before he died? Those are the nights he wakes up screaming.
Tonight is no different.
“NO!” He sits bolt up right in bed, reaching out for his father who is not there. It’s then that the tears come, as he sits panting, feeling as though his heart is beating out of his chest. He can only think of one thing: Y/N.
He struggles to stand on shaky legs as the tears continue to fall. He can barely see when he makes it to the door but that doesn’t matter; he’s done this far too many times recently. Before he realises it, he’s opening another door. It creaks horribly when it opens.
“Paul?” Her voice is what breaks the last of his composure.
The door creaks closed behind him as he drops to the floor as the sobs rack his body. Then suddenly there’s arms around him. He grips onto her like she’s his lifeline. She just holds him as he cries into her shoulder.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She runs her fingers through his hair. “C’mon, let’s get off the floor.”
He helps her as she pulls him up, relishing in the way her thumbs swipe the tears from under his eyes when she’s got him standing. He realises then that she turned on the lamp before she came to him. He can see the worry in her eyes. He wants to tell her that he’s okay, that he’s fine, but the words get stuck in his throat. He lets her lead him to the bed and takes the glass of water she offers him with a shaky hand.
Y/N sits sideways on the bed next to him, placing a hand on his knee and resting the other on the back on his neck, letting her fingers tangle in his hair. “What was it this time?”
“Pretty much the same.” His voice cracks.
“There was nothing you could have done, he wouldn’t have wanted you to. Paul, more than anything, he’d be glad you and your mother are alive. That you’re planning on fighting back.”
“I know.” He looks her in the eye. “I just wish he was here to help.”
“We all do. I think you should sleep here tonight.” She moves her hand to the side of his face and gives him a half smile.
There it is, the same thing she says each time he comes to her. And just like before he wants to refuse and go back to his own bed. Because he knows if he stays that will be it. All the feelings they’ve been skirting for years will spill over at the worst possible time, when they’re about to go to war. But tonight was the straw that broke the camels back. He doesn’t want to skirt around it any more. He wants the comfort and the safety and to not sleep alone.
But his voice fails him again, so all he can do is nod. Not that it matters, she knows him better than that.
He follows her lead and climbs into the bed as she does. When they’re settled, he finds himself reaching out for her and pulling her close. She brushes his hair out of his eyes and presses a kiss to his forehead. His eyes flutter shut at the featherlike touch.
“Get some sleep okay, I’m right here if you need me.” She lays her head back on the pillow to look at him.
“I know.” He smiles and closes his eyes. Everything else can wait until morning, for now, he’s at peace.
