DUNE-A False Haderach-(SI into brother of Irulan)

Chapter 32

PAUL ATREIDES

The word, the visions they had only gotten stronger with every passing day. The Spice in the air began to grate away at his senses, heightening them in some ways, altering them in others.

And while in the past he had only glimpsed scenes, fleeting images, now his visions were more akin to a movie, a short one, and yet made of people and scenarios that had never happened. That may never happen.

And in nearly all of them, he would find himself surrounded by Fremen, an army ready to do his bidding. Ready to unleash a war on the world on his behalf. No.

Not on his behalf

But on behalf of the Lisan-Al-Gaib.

And so, the word slipped out of his mouth, a word he had heard in the real world as well, that is, if one were to say the world in his dreams was not just as real. He had heard it in hushed whispers and cautious tones.

"You know what that means?" he asked Chani, heart racing as he lay there sweating beside the girl of his dreams. His 'Sihaya,' as he often called her now, was often in his sleep and in their bed as they lay there tangled up in one another.

"Of course, I do," she answered nonchalantly, biting away at the food she had received from the Sietch.

"Can you tell me?" he asked and she shrugged, turning towards him and he found himself staring into those blue eyes.

"It refers to Inzal," she answered, and the answer stunned him as visions that had long plagued his sleep erupted in his mind, visions of others calling him by that very name.

'She lies,' a sinister voice from the inside spoke up.

"Though, I wouldn't use that name or title for him openly," she added with a scoff, making him frown.

"Why?" he asked again, and his abilities as a Mentat allowed him to isolate and identify his feelings, identify how he felt. And it was anger, and yet relief as well.

"Because he does not like it. And if you do call him by that title to his face, he will go on a whole tirade about the non-sensical and exploitative nature of the prophecy from which it was derived," the words were said with a roll of her eyes, the topic seemingly nonchalant to her. And his frown did not leave his face, nor did his apprehension as he found himself reaching for straws.

"Prophecy?" he asked again, heart tumbling. Chani seemed to realize his whole ignorant nature about the subject and seemed to settle herself on the floor as she began explaining.

"So, many, many years ago, the Sayyadina foretold a prophecy, a prophecy that detailed the rise of a savior. The Lisan-Al-Gaib, it means 'the voice from the outer world.'," she finished. He felt cold sweat drip from his face as the Old Revered Mother's words rang in his ears.

Words about how Inzal had stolen from him, stolen from him his destiny. Was she referring to his? How was this related to him being the Kwisatz Haderach?

"The Fremen had been waiting for a savior ever since, believing that he would arrive and free them and bring a great age of prosperity for the Fremen. And many in the Fremen believe that Inzal is that person," she elaborated, and now much had begun to make sense.

'He is not. I am.' A part of him whispered. A part of him wished to scream at her.

"Inzal believes the prophecy to be a false hope. A way by which the Bene Gesserit wished to control our people and make them complacent. And so, he speaks against it, though in many people's eyes, the prophecy speaks of him given how he has actually freed us and won us back our land. But still, if you call him by that title he does not like it, so it has become somewhat of a taboo to speak it openly now. Not that such a thing was very common in the first place," she elaborated, and he was at a loss for words.

He was sure. That this was him, that the prophecy was about him, was somehow related to his rise as a Bene Gesserit, and Inzal had somehow hijacked it and his destiny.

"And what do you think of it?" he asked, the words slipping out of his mouth.

"I can understand Inzal's anger at being labeled with a title he does not desire. The prophecy was mostly popular amongst the older generation, and younger ones like me did not really believe it and still don't, to be honest," she added.

"It matters little whether Inzal is this Lisan-al-Gaib or not. He is our leader. He is the person who has won us our freedom, Lisan-Al-Gaib or not," she finished as she rose up from the ground, jumping with a dexterity that surprised him to this day.

"In the end, it is only a title and matters very little," she finished, leaving a stunned and contemplative Paul behind as a whisper escaped his mouth.

'Its not a title. It is destiny. My destiny.'

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LADY JESSICA

The meeting with her former teacher and the Imperial Truthsayer had been a gamble. One that she thought necessary at first to secure her position as the Emperor's Bene Gesserit aide. The cost had seemed so measly at first, a simple meeting with the old woman with Paul by her side.

And yet, with every passing day, she began to regret her decision, thinking of its necessity as she saw the change in Paul's behavior. However, it had not really begun with the meeting though. Her son, her special little son, had been fighting this battle for some time now. The spice in admixed in the air was making his powers tumble inside him, and the more and more exposure he got, the more his powers manifested.

The announcement of the kanly and then this meeting had only sped up the change, sped up what she feared could be a step too far for Paul.

And her fears brought her to him again. Inzal and it did not sit right with her that she seemed to be leaning so heavily upon him. The terms of their alliance were more of a guideline rather than a hard and fast set of rules.

"I grow worried over Paul's behavior and actions?" she began as Inzal sat infront of her, not much different from the last time she had seen the boy except for the ring he now wore on his ring finger of the left hand, one much similar to what her son now wore.

"I have offered him my blade for the kanly, just as Duncan Idaho and Gurney Halleck have. He has refused me as well and is adamant that this is his fight, and he shall fight it himself," Inzal said, which worried her. This stubbornness, this hubris, it was unlike him.

"Will he lose?" she asked, and just the fact that Inzal hesitated to answer was answer enough for her.

"If this was the regular Feyd-Rautha and a regular duel, Paul would win," he added, and she did not miss the hidden implication, for this was anything but an ordinary duel, and the Feyd-Rautha her son was set to face was anything but ordinary as well.

"You think he will lose?" she asked, the question squeezing her heart.

"From what I have gathered, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was already a rather formidable fighter, and when this whole ordeal began Lady Margot Fenring was dispatched to Geidi Prime in order to train him in the Prana-Bindu, ways for the Bene Gesserit believed that it was your son who was behind all this untanglement of their plans. However, that is not the main concern in this fight," and she had not known it.

Prana-Bindu was the premier Bene Gesserit martial art. One taught to the sisters so that they may protect themselves. She had trained Paul in the art as well, and she doubted learning it would do more than equalize both of their skills.

"Killing," she answered the last question, and he nodded.

"Paul has never really killed a man in cold blood. He may very well be capable of it, but finding out such a thing about one's self in a duel against Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen would not be the ideal thing," he finished, and she bit her lip, mind racing.

"The previous Reverend Mother offered him a way, a way that would ensure his victory," she told him, and he raised a brow. And he was intelligent enough to already know what that was.

To become the Kwisatz Haderach, to lean on the experiences of all those before him, to become more than just Paul Atreides, to become an amalgamation of all that came before him and were to come after him.

"Even now, his dreams become erratic by the day. Visions now plague him in the morning as well, and not just simple visions from before. He has begun to see much, some of which he shares not even with me," she elaborated.

"She is not wrong, though. If he goes through the ritual, his victory would be all but certain," he added as she rose up.

"But he could die as well. That test, that ritual, it is not so simple," she roared.

"We survived it," he said, and her lips thinned.

"You should stop it. Do you have no fear of what may happen if he takes it? If he truly becomes it, the Kwisatz Haderach? The power he will have..."

"Will be meaningless," he added sharply making her gasp as he stood up from his chair as well.

"For as per our agreement, if he does go through it, he will no longer remain the ducal heir," he finished, and she frowned at those words.

"The agreement," she recalled, and there was indeed such a clause in it, and now it all began to make sense. Why was he not so bothered by it all?

"You knew this would happen?" she asked, and Inzal shrugged.

"In some ways, it was inevitable. The spice in the air is simply too much, now or decades from now, he would have tried to this very thing one way or another in my estimation," he added with a shrug.

"You could have stopped it. Kept him lo..."

"And made an enemy out of him," he cut in, his eyes narrowed.

"I have no enmity with Paul as he is or as he may become after the ritual," he said.

"But you will strip him of his name, of his title, of all of it because of this. Do you think he will hold no enmity for you if you strip him of his position as the Atreides heir?" she asked.

"I will need to do no such thing," he said as he walked towards the wall and began to arm himself with his daggers and others fighting fear for some reason.

"He will do it himself. And you need not worry about him so much. Your son will get a station much better than being the ducal heir of House Atreides," she did not believe him as he began to walk towards the door.

"Come, join me," he said as he glanced back at her.

"He is just about to leave for the ritual site."

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