Irulan Corrino always knew she'd marry for political reasons, not for affection.
She didn't know she'd fall in love with Paul Atreides, but she did, and perhaps she's doomed to suffer a lifetime of watching the man she loves -her husband- love and...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I understand why Troy was razed when I look into your eyes, because you whisper my name, you touch me like I'm the holy grail, and I feel strong enough to overthrow the gods.- Abby S
Irulan had never hated Paul more the entire two and a half years she'd known him than she did when she was giving birth to his child.
It was rather awkward to give birth with his mother present, of all people, but she'd grown somewhat close to Lady Jessica, even confiding in the older woman about Paul's treatment of her.
Still, her husband's mother was better than a male doctor. She didn't care how irrational it was, but she was absolutely certain that if she saw a man just then, she'd thrash him.
Presently, she was standing in her shift with her hands pressed flat against a wall, her face and body drenched in sweat.
Another contraction hit, and she let out a scream that could've shattered glass.
"Deep breaths, Irulan," Lady Jessica encouraged gently. She put a hand on her stomach, clenching her eyes shut and trying her best to follow instructions.
Another hit, and she screamed again.
"They're less than five minutes apart now," Lady Jessica told her. "Let's move you to the chair."
She helped Irulan waddle over to the birthing chair, and at that exact moment, there was an urgent knocking on the door.
"Not now," Lady Jessica said firmly. "We're not to be disturbed.
"B— but my lady," came the voice of one of her handmaidens as Irulan lowered herself into the chair with a groan of pain.
Another contraction was coming. She could feel it.
"He's here, he's coming up the stairs right now—"
"I said," Irulan heaved, "I don't want a doctor!"
Lady Jessica paused, her hand still gently holding Irulan's arm.
"I don't think it's a doctor," she said.
Before Irulan could ask what the hell the older woman was talking about, another contraction hit, and she screamed, clutching the arms of the chair so tightly her knuckles turned white.
She was too busy screaming to hear the shout of her name, or the bounding footsteps nearing the door.
What she did hear, however, was her husband's yell of, "step aside! Let me pass!"
Irulan had given explicit instructions to not let anyone through unless she alone allowed it.
The only person whose orders held more weight than hers was Paul.
