My Caladanian Rain [A Paul Atreides Story]

10191 AG

The very meaning of sietch—a place of sanctuary in times of trouble—had been perverted here into a monstrous confinement for an entire population.

Children of Dune Page 176

If Ilvermorny Corrino had found out the deed I had made to have this security into a sietch, would she still see me in the same way?

Would it matter now? Truly, Mornie now thinks he is dead. As if they'd ever cross paths again.

There was no yielding, only death. Death is the test of it. Now he'd lived by the Fremen rules.

"I was a friend of Jamis, Paul whispered. "Jamis taught me...that...when you kill...you pay for it."

And so, this is how he had to pay.

He has gotten his acceptance by the Fremen. He is the Lisan al-Gaib, the voice from the outer world. He now lives in the sietch, with everything feeling new and old at the same time. He remembers dreaming of the place, of the people, especially the girl Chani. He knew she'd lead him here, and says to him, "Tell me about the waters of your birthworld, Paul Muad'Dib." And Paul replied, "Another time, Chani. I promise." He has found a liking to this young Fremen. She helped him win over Jamis, she took him by her wing and taught him their ways.

Paul realized the importance of water discipline. The Fremen stresses it in all of their conversations, and it was evident in the sietches. He must make it his new culture. If he so badly wants to survive Arrakis.

-/-

"There's a Bene Gesserit saying that goes: 'Do not count a human dead until you've seen his body. And even then, you make a mistake.'"

"In this case, that would be such a stupid saying." Ilvermorny knows that her mother was only trying to help. No need. She can't be helped. "How can one survive the deserts of Arrakis? Unless he was part sandworm."

He is dead. She knows it. He is dead. And yet again her father lied to her. Lost in the desert, Would he now? Lost. Lost. Lost. No, he's done being lost. He's now dead. She mourns for him. Bawling her eyes out, face buried under a pillow. She had to control it. She still had her responsibilities as a Corrino princess, and who was she without great mental control? The prana-bindu training comes in handy now. But yet in the evenings, when all of the chores are done, and the act has faltered, she finds herself sobbing again.

Her governess barges into her quarters, and she had to straighten herself up.

"Ilvermorny," Her tone was not of the usual. Unlike the ones she used in training, or when she humors the young princess. "Stop that crying, young girl."

"I'm afraid I can't quite help myself," She could only stare at her shoes.

"Will Paul like that?" Lady Mara asks.

"Like what?" She asked, puzzled.

"Would he like that you waste your time crying? Not so, I know." Mara replies.

"But Paul is dead, why would it matter? He would not see me anymore. How would he know?" Ilvermorny brings her arm to a cross.

"Exactly. You must stop crying, for there is so much to your life than what you mourn for. Paul is dead, and if Paul were alive, there will be no way for him to come back here the same. He will be different and you will not like him. Your lives would be too different. Lucky will you be if he manages to remember you."

Somehow, Lady Mara had ended up attacking Ilvermorny's thoughts. There was no denying how the governess was right. Paul's life might have drastically changed by now. All of the experiences in the desert will change him. He will have new people in his life, and a new home. A different soil from what he had grown so used to in Caladan. He was no longer the boy from Caladan, but the desert marauder of Arrakis. Paul could have been a duke. They would have been to stand their empire away from the Imperium. Duke Paul Atreides. There was a way out for them, yet he did not survive to know of it. But he is not her Paul anymore. Paul is just a memory that runs wild and becomes volatile each time she remembers. A fragment of that old life where she still had a friend. Where she was still loved. A reminder to her that good times exist, well, existed. That for once in her life she was not a walking and thinking machine controlled by everyone, that she was more than just a part of political maneuvering, that she was Ilvermorny—a young woman with life and passion, the one who is optimistic for a future filled with free will and independent structure, not the one planned out by the Sisterhood, not the life her father had orchestrated.

"You must be ready now." It was a sign that Lady Mara was now to exit her room.

And it slipped her mind. Ilvermorny was to try her first mélange in years. Her mother decided that she will have her mélange, probably a trance of it. It was rather quite odd. When had her mother gotten into Fremen customs? She found herself changing into an emerald dress Lady Mara had hung for her. Purple was the color she coded. Cabinets-full colonized with any color in that range. It was the color of royalty, as it was not obvious enough that she was. With her title and all. But for now, green was for mourning. She thanks Lady Mara; she is clever enough for the appropriation.

Ilvermorny didn't look horrible in green; she admits. It complimented her eyes. A pair-up. She rarely dresses up in anything but violet. A casual white would do, but that seems about it. Stupidly enough, she thinks of Paul's opinion. At this time, she felt Paul's sentiment mattered. She wonders what he'll think of her in this dress. She knows he's dead, but still, her brain is deluded enough for him to be the first person to pop up. It goes to show how he really did matter, regardless.

The family room was dimmer than Ilvermorny had seen before. Lady Anirul sat across from her. With a blank expression, she held her eyes.

"You are already aware of why you had been called here," Anirul said icily.

"Am I the only one to be summoned here?" Ilvermorny asked.

"We cannot deny the potential you had been presenting us." It was as if she had not heard Ilvermorny's question.

Potential? I have not emitted anything else but potential my whole life! But she could only nod. "And by this, you would like to test out if I'd acquire prescience."

"Not to test, but to heighten what you already have." Said her mother as she gestured for the princess to take a seat.

Was I even prescient? Why would she think that?

The spice was a radiant blue and smelled heavily of bitter cinnamon. She hesitated, though she felt fear as she faced her mother, how urgent she'd look, how her fingers dug too deep into the edge of the table, the heavy anticipation. Ilvermorny sweats. Her heart beats inside her throat and she hears it. But she takes one. Puts it inside her body, and lets it run through her veins. One seemed fine, until her mother urged her to take more and more and more, until, like a neck being snapped, the world turns right before her very eyes. Her thoughts were racing and she was floating on a cloud. Gaining a bit of her consciousness from the track of moving images and voices, she realized that they were no ordinary thoughts, but memories. Some of hers, and most are of those who came before her. She was lifted away from her body, and her soul ascended to a place she couldn't quite comprehend. She felt like a higher being. At once, the memories had stopped flying around and above her, and all focused on one vision in particular: She had found herself in the bled, walking, but she was different, she wore a stillsuit. Someone in the background was screaming incoherently. Everything was blocked out by a high-pitched ringing in her ear. What is this? I cannot comprehend the message. She was leaving footprints in the sand. There was no sign of Sandworms nearby. Why am I here? The memories raced once more, blurring out the vision. Burying it as they come rapidly and spontaneously towards her. "Stop it this instance!" She screams. Nothing had changed. I am the owner of my own mind. I am in control, and I command this to stop at once! She screamed internally as though to an unseen person that was trying to tear her sanity apart. And there was silence.

"Very well," Said Ilvermorny with open eyes. Looking like nothing had happened. Anirul had her hand over her mouth. This child...

"What have you seen?" Anirul somehow felt fear.

"Everything," Ilvermorny replied, smirking.