#timothee chalamet Dune

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[Paul x F!Reader] 3013 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? (More strangers to lovers tbh) ARRANGED MARRIAGE TROPE, not proofread LOL

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions.

A/n: Yeahhhh let’s goooo. We actually see Paul! Requests are open for one shots, imagines, and more. Check out the new request section of my master-list for my character lists!

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Five———

[Five days before the ceremony]

As you open your eyes, you feel a sense of deja vu wash over you. Yesterday's events come rushing back, and you can't help but feel a wave of exhaustion and dread.

You sit up slowly, shaking off the lingering remnants of sleep. It takes you a moment to fully orient yourself, but you soon remember where you are and what has happened.

"Is it time already?" you ask, your voice hoarse and dry.

"Yes it is, Lady Jessica instructed I let you sleep in for a few hours. It's early afternoon my lady" Delia says, opening your curtains.

You groan softly, feeling the weight of fatigue settle in your bones. The thought of yet more preparations and appointments fills you with a mixture of anticipation and resignation.

"Very well," you say, sighing. "Let us proceed."

The exhaustion was getting to you.

You follow Delia out of your chambers, your footsteps slow and heavy. You know that the countdown to the wedding has begun, and with each passing day, the pressure and expectations grow heavier.

You wonder who this day's appointments will be with, and what tasks you will have to face. You take a deep breath, trying to steel yourself for what lies ahead.

As you and Delia traverse the hallways you look up in surprise as Paul appears around the corner, his expression serious and intense.

"My lady, may I speak with you? In private?"

You hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to respond.

Soon you nod, gesturing to a nearby empty chamber.

"Of course, my lord," you say, your voice soft and demure. "We can speak privately here."

You follow Paul into the small, secluded chamber, feeling a thrill of anticipation and nervousness. You have spoken to him before in meetings and at dinner, but never in private. You were acquaintances. What does he want to discuss with you so urgently?

Once the door closes he turns to you, "Are you ok?"

You nod tentatively. "Yes," you say softly, but the tone of your voice betrays the lie. You cannot deny the exhaustion and tension that has built up since your arrival on caladan.

"I am just... worn out from the day's events" you say, knowing full well that such an answer falls well short of the truth.

"You have been asleep all day" he states, catching you in your lie. "My mother told me about the early morning. I apologize for the pain that was caused"

You glance up at him, stunned by his sudden show of concern. You have never seen him express empathy, much less sympathy, towards anyone. There is a genuine warmth to his voice, and you feel a prickle of confusion at his behavior.

"It is not your fault," you say gently, forcing out a smile.

"It is the way of things. And it was necessary to determine if I would be strong enough for what lies ahead."

"Still", he says, his tone softening. "It can't have been pleasant. my apology stands." he pauses for a moment, his eyes fixed on you. Then he continues, "My mothers entire process is barbaric. No one should have to endure such things. I did not expect her to extend her horrors to you"

You nod. "Our lives are not in our hands"

He nods, seeming to understand the truth behind your words. "Perhaps that is the hardest part", he says. "The knowledge that we have no real control over our own lives. That everything we do is predestined, and the path we follow has already been laid out for us."

You feel a sense of companionship wash over you as he speaks. Here is someone who truly understands, someone who gets it. You know who has had this feeling before, and the realization makes your heart ache.

Paul pauses for a moment, as if searching for the right words to say next. Then he continues, his tone softer and more candid than you have ever heard it before.

"I sense the loneliness within you", he says, "the sense of being trapped and isolated, no matter how many people surround you."

Paul's spice tinted eyes meet yours, and for a few breaths, there is an undeniable tension between you. Then he says, barely above a whisper, "I know the darkness that haunts you." Your breath catches in your throat, as if he had reached into your soul and grasped hold of your deepest fears. You want to pull away, to maintain distance and keep your emotions in check.

You have never shared these thoughts, these feelings, with anyone. But in him, you suddenly feel the urge to bare all, to open yourself to him completely.

"i've been dreaming of Arrakis" You Mutter

He smiles at you, a faint spark of genuine amusement in his eyes. "Nightmares, I assume," he says.

There is a hint of sadness in his voice, as if he knows all too well what that particular dream means. You notice the way his gaze lingers on your face, and you wonder how much he truly knows of your inner struggles and insecurities.

You nod silently, unable to deny or dismiss the truth of the statement. Even though you had grown used to having nightmares about arrakis, this one had been particularly vivid and unsettling. You can still feel the terror of the desert and the endless sand dunes, the crushing sense of doom and helplessness.

The silence hangs heavy between you, thick and taut with unspoken sentiment.

Paul searches your eyes briefly, and then he speaks, his voice just above a whisper. "Your dreams...they tell me that you are afraid, more afraid than you have let yourself admit. Even here, in this safe space, you cannot let go of the anxiety that haunts you."

You nod, feeling yourself grow flushed as his words strike a nerve. You have worked hard to conceal your fears, to portray a facade of strength and resilience. But here, in front of him, in this moment of intimate connection and understanding, you feel yourself succumbing to his perceptive nature.

"You see too much", you say quietly, unable to deny the truth of his words.

"Perhaps I do", he says, his voice soft and sincere. “The people view us as messiahs." He takes a breath.

"It's all fabrication, and we are bound to it by duty" he sighs

You nod, understanding the weight of the expectations that surround you. "Yes, we are puppets on strings, pulled in different directions by the desires of those who hold power. they seek to use us for their own ends, and we have no choice but to play our part."

Paul pauses, his eyes hardening slightly. "But we cannot allow them to define who we truly are. Inside, beyond this facade of duty and obligation, we are still our own people. we still have our own thoughts and feelings, our own desires and dreams."

"we each have a choice", he continues, "to surrender to

those expectations and allow them to define who we are. or to cling on to our own truth, despite the consequences."

He meets your gaze, and his words carry an intensity and urgency that resonates deep within your soul.

"I promise you," he says, looking into your eyes with a serious conviction, "That whatever choice you make, whatever price you must pay, I will be by your side to shoulder the burden as long as you extend that courtesy to me as well." You nod, taking a deep breath.

“I too have a truth I wish to cling to" he says before wiping a tear from your cheek which you had not noticed fell. “I unfortunately must depart, I have a security meeting for the ceremony" he says.

"Of course", you say, your voice straining with emotion.

"Do what you must. But promise me one thing..."

"What is it?", he asks, his voice still tinged with sympathy and concern.

You take a deep breath, feeling the lingering effect of his touch on your skin. You feel the urge to speak what is in your heart, to lay bare your feelings for him, your desire for him. But you manage to reign in the impulse, and try to maintain a sense of decorum.

"That we will see each other again, before we are made husband and wife", you say, your voice faltering slightly.

He nods softly, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He understands the deep significance of this brief exchange, and the desire behind your request.

"I promise", he says, his gaze intense and sincere. "We will see each other again, and when we do, much will be made clear. Until then, take care of yourself, and remain true to your heart. It’s far from over”

"I must go now," he says, "the ceremony is only five days away, and there is much to be done before then. but rest assured" he adds, his gaze lingering on you. "we will meet again."

The following two days were filled with dress fittings, floral arrangement and decor selection, cake tasting, and many meetings.

———

[Three days before the ceremony]

The entire palace was transformed into a flurry of activity, the servants bustling around and preparing everything for the ceremony. As the bride-to-be, the majority of the preparations fell to you and your family. But unlike many girls approaching their wedding day, you had no expectations or excitement. Instead, your thoughts were consumed by the impending reunion with Paul and the knowledge of the difficult days ahead.

The mornings were typically the only time you had to yourself. You were seated adjacent to your bedroom window, looking out at the sea as you reminisced on your upbringing.

You remember being escorted through the halls of the imperial palace, your eyes drifting past the grand spectacles of art and decor to the various courtiers and officials who moved like pawns across the board.

The emperor's hand gripped yours tightly, his eyes scanning the crowded halls for threats and vulnerabilities. His presence was a shadow cast over your childhood, looming large with power and influence.

You remember the countless hours spent in tedious lessons and tutelage, the endless nights spent studying ancient history and political theory. You remember feeling a deep sense of loneliness and isolation, a sense of being confined within the walls of the imperial palace.

Irulan was easily manipulated. That is what he desired. You were a threat to him.

It was his choice to not have you trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit like your sister. He feared the power you would hold.

You feel a sudden surge of resentment at this thought. He viewed you as a threat to his own power, not a worthy successor.

The emperor never truly understood the depths of your spirit, or your innate drive for greatness. He feared you and sought to destroy you before you could discover your potential.

The resentment grows as you recall all the ways you could have been trained and guided, only to be denied those opportunities. you could have been an even greater asset to the imperial house, but he denied you that chance.

"You cannot stop fate, father" you whisper aloud to yourself.

As you wandered through the halls, being transported from chamber to chamber to meet with various specialists, you felt increasingly overwhelmed and anxious. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your arm, and you started to turn but immediately recognized Paul's firm grasp.

You wheeled around to face him, feeling a rush of relief and excitement as you saw his familiar face. Paul had appeared like a ghost in a forest, seemingly coming out of nowhere. but you were not surprised at his sudden presence, knowing the importance of this reunion.

"Well, the bride finally decides to make her appearance" he says with a faint smile, his gaze raking over your dress and appearance, taking in the details. But there is more than mockery and scorn in his expression, there is something deep and genuine.

You feel the corners of your mouth curve in a smile despite yourself, and you notice the gleam in his eyes.

"I trust they have been spoiling you?" he asks, gesturing to the entourage of servants surrounding you.

You nod, and try not to roll your eyes. "yes, they have been treating me like royalty", you say with a slight hint of mockery. "One might have forgotten that I am the subject of an arranged marriage and will not have much choice in the actual wedding itself."

Paul smirks slightly at your snarky reply, seeming to enjoy your spirited response.

"You know how it goes. it is all for the sake of appearances," he says, his tone tinged with irony. "The bride must be pampered and celebrated, even if she has little desire for the event itself."

"And what of the groom?" You ask

Paul pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering with amusement. "The groom may be equally disinterested, but he is expected to go along with the rituals and play his part. The pressure is not so great, but nonetheless a burden of duty must be shouldered."

Paul pauses, his eyes glancing beyond your shoulder, towards the swarm of servants. He gestures to them,

"But they seem quite dedicated to doing their part, so how about you let them continue to spoil you for another moment. And in the meantime, I will show you something"

he takes your arm, his touch warm and reassuring. You are surprised at the gentleness, the sudden shift in his demeanor. you allow him to lead you away from the flurry of activity, following him down a labyrinth of hallways and through several doors.

After a few minutes of walking, you arrive in a spacious office. Paul releases your arm and gestures for you to take a seat. He sits down opposite you, his expression grave and serious.

"This is something that cannot wait until the actual ceremony,” he says. "it is important that we discuss it now."

Paul's manner shifts as his mother enters the room. His expression becomes more formally composed, and he rises to his feet, offering her a slight nod.

Jessica responds in kind, the two offering silent greetings as she moves into the center of the room. You notice a slight softening in her demeanor as her son joins her, as if the two are united in this situation, however difficult it may be.

"You will not be fond of what must be done," Jessica begins

You flinch slightly at her direct statement, prepared for the news that is about to be delivered. But you also trust her wisdom and foresight, hoping that her words will provide some insight or guidance.

You study her face, noting the slight creases around her eyes and mouth, the weariness and stress apparent in her demeanor. She stands in firm control of her emotions, her tone composed and firm.

"Your father is to be charged with the attempted ratification of the Atreides house during his reign as emperor by the Great Houses of the Imperium. As Paul has been foreseen to ascend to take his place they have decided his ploy was an attempt to hoard the throne." She pauses. "He is to be executed shortly after the coronation of you as Empress and Paul as emperor"

The air is suddenly sucked out of your lungs as you feel this bombshell land in your chest.

Your father, charged with treason against the house and facing execution. For all his faults, the emperor was still your father, he shaped your life and protected you from the horrors of court life.

Your vision blurs, and your ears ring with a buzzing sound. You want to reach out to Paul or Jessica, but your limbs feel stiff and numb.

"I know this is difficult", Paul says, his voice soft but steady. "Your father was your father after all. But he had his own agenda, his own aspirations. He never desired for you to succeed him, much less become empress."

"But this changes nothing", paul says, his tone growing firm, conviction in his words despite the tragedy of the situation. "Your father has made his bed, and he must now lie in it. The ceremony will proceed as planned, and we will not allow his actions to stand in the way of our house and our destiny."

You nod, although it is with reluctance and sorrow. but you understand, deep down, that this is the only path forward. Your father may have once loved you in his own way, but he was also a man of ambition and status.

Paul and Jessica exchange a look, their expressions both sympathetic and resolute. Paul releases your hands, moving back to the center of the room.

"We will not let your father's actions deter us from our course. The ceremony will proceed, and you will be crowned as empress of the known universe."

Your breath catches in your throat as you absorb the significance of his words. You are to be the empress of the known universe, but at what cost? Your father, once so feared and powerful, now facing execution at the hands of what once was his Imperium.

You close your eyes, trying to push back against the flood of emotions threatening to sweep you away. You have no say in this matter.

"I understand", you say firmly, though your voice still trembles with grief and shock.

You feel two sets of eyes upon you, observing your response. You sense Paul's firm, almost resolute gaze, his presence a steadying force. Meanwhile, Jessica's eyes are filled with a subtle blend of sympathy and determination.

Her voice breaks the silence, her tone full of both sorrow and resolution. "You will be the greatest empress in the existence of this empire," she declares, the conviction in her voice unwavering. "Your father's legacy will fade as the empire embraces a new future with you. your father will never control you again."

———

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pretty boy

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Dune: Part Two (2024) + reddit text posts

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that one scene in Dune Part Two (iykyk)

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"May thy knife chip and shatter."

Dune: Part Two (2024)

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can’t stop thinking about that shot where everyone in the room is kneeling and princess irulan, paul, and chani are the only ones standing. paul’s back to chani signifying his betrayal while princess irulan and chani are eye to eye - both heartbroken over what the man between them has done. my chest hurts that was so beautifully executed

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[Paul Arteries x Reader] 3751 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? ARRAIGNED MARRIAGE TROPE EXCEPT BOTH PARTIES ARE PISSY ABOUT IT, not proofread LOL.

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: Ur gonna hate me but I’m splitting what was originally going to be this chapter in half. It’s getting longggg.

Previous chapter Next chapter (coming soon…)

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Seven———

The next day you were awakened by the sound of knocking at your bedroom door. You slowly sit up in bed, stretching your shoulders and back as you rouse yourself from sleep.

One of the house maids is at your door, she bows respectfully before placing a robe down on a nearby chair.

“My lady, you have been summoned to the baths,” she says politely, “they have prepared everything for you.”

You smile at the maids statement, feeling a slight jolt of amusement. You had almost forgotten about the promised pampering session, and the sudden reminder fills you with delight.

The maid moves aside as you rise from your bed and change into the robe.

She leads you out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You follow behind her, your steps light. The estate is bustling with activity, servants scurrying around making last-minute adjustments and preparations for the upcoming celebrations.

The bath chamber is a large, elegant affair, the walls and floors made of polished white marble. The ceiling is painted with images of clouds and the sky, making you feel like you are outdoors. It is dimly lit, a soft glow emanating from the walls, lighting the various bathtubs and areas for massage.

The bath chamber is staffed with a dozen or so servants who spring into action as you enter. Preparing bath salts and oils, massages and wraps, and a myriad of other treatments. The attendants move efficiently and quickly, a product of their years of experience.

You step into a tub of lukewarm water and soak for a bit before an attendant helps you out and guides you to a plush table. You lay down and she applies massage oils and works on your muscles. You let out a soft moan of satisfaction as the tightness and soreness vanishes from your muscles. Eventually another attendant starts applying a mask of clay and honey all over your body while another performs a manicure-pedicure.

It is pure bliss, every sensation of your body being taken care of to your heart's content. You can hardly remember a time when you felt so relaxed and content.

You have several hours to yourself to rejuvenate. You spend the day reading, soaking in the various baths and pools. The soft white pillows and couches are as comfortable as any bed.

You lose track of time, simply enjoying the various sensory experiences as you immerse yourself in the water and soak up the scents and aromas surrounding you. The staff keep your food trays topped up, and new trays of fruit and snacks are continually laid out for you.

You hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching, Delia’s distinctive, confident stride, her steps light and swift. The bath attendants bow politely as she enters, and she acknowledges them with a respectful nod.

As she makes her way over to you she rests one arm against the edge of the bath you are sitting in. Her gaze is soft and caring, her voice gentle as she speaks.

“You look positively radiant, my lady.”

You smile at her, your eyes glimmering in the light, “I feel radiant,” You reply, stretching your arm out to take her hand. She gives you a curt nod of acknowledgement before taking a breath.

“The guests have started to arrive for tomorrow.” Delia informs you, “You have a few hours to yourself before you have your final dinner with the Duke and his mother prior to your wedding day”

Her words snap you back to reality. Your smile slightly falters as you come to the realization that your time alone is coming to an end.

“Yes… The guests have started arriving haven't they.” you trail off, a subtle expression of longing crossing your face as you glance around the baths once more. “I will miss this.”

She gives your hands a light squeeze. Delia always carries this soft sympathy which almost breaks your heart—There are moments where she looks at you as though you were her own daughter.

“I know, my lady” She replies before releasing your hands and steps back, “let us get ready” she says gently, as if sensing your reluctance.

There was no point in resisting or protesting. There was work to be done, political connections to forge and strengthen.

— — —

You follow her through the hallways, a flurry of servants scurrying about around you. The castle is a hive of activity, people rushing to and fro, last minute preparations.

Eventually, you reach the lavish doors to the dining hall, pausing as you await for one of the guards to open it for you.

You take a breath, steeling yourself for what comes next. The dinner itself was a lavish affair, the courses served on delicate porcelain china and the crystal glasses glimmering in the candlelight. Paul was already waiting at the table with Jessica seated beside him.

Jessica leads the conversation, her words witty and filled with excitement for the days ahead. Eventually, the conversation turns to the political situation. You take a sip of your wine, your thoughts immediately turning to the political situation. You have spent years preparing for this moment, and you do not intend to waste the opportunity. You speak in a confident, persuasive tone, outlining your insights and strategies.

Paul leans forward, his attention fixated on you, his admiration for your skills and abilities evident in his expression.

“There is one final issue we must discuss,” Jessica says, her tone serious as she sets down her glass of wine, the delicate crystal making a soft sound as it hits the table. Her blue eyes are firm, and there is no hint of hesitation or reluctance when she begins to speak.

“You need to have children, my lady,” she says bluntly.

Your heart sinks, and you feel the anxiety of the future rising again. Her words are direct and unapologetic; she is not attempting to soften the blow. She is simply stating a fact, and it hits you like a gut punch. “Your role as a bride, especially of your stature, necessitates heirs. It is a political need.”

She is not simply referring to a desire to produce children eventually, she is talking about immediately. A child will further legitimize the Atreides in the Imperial family, and a royal couple will be expected to waste no time in doing their duty.

“ I am aware of my duties as a wife,” you peer into her blue eyes, “I know what must be done”

Dinner ends with a soft murmur of praise and approval. Paul's attention remains fixated on you for a moment, his expression serious and thoughtful. He stands up, and Jessica's gaze lingers on you for a moment before she too stands. The servants quickly begin to clear up the table.

Paul offers you his arm, and you take it, allowing him to lead you from the dining room back to your shared hallway.

“Quite the day tomorrow hm?” You end your sentence with a small hum.

Paul nods solemnly, a soft smile playing across his face. "It will be a historic occasion," he says, leaning his head near yours to whisper softly, "I do not know if I will be able to sleep tonight." His tone is sincere and sympathetic, and there is a hint of nervousness at the realization of what he is facing.

You let out a small chuckle, “Likewise, I might have Delia sedate me.” Paul laughs softly at your joke. There is a moment of genuine amusement in his expression. He likes the way you handle stress, the way you deal with tension and anxiety with humor. It is a glimpse of your true personality, behind the carefully crafted mask of poise and diplomacy.

He takes a deep breath, as to steel himself, and you can tell that he has moved into a more serious frame. He stops and faces you, his expression gentle but resolute.

“Try to get some rest tonight,” he says, “tomorrow is an important day for both of us.”

Both of you were well aware that tomorrow will mark a pivotal turning point in your lives as you come to a stop outside the door to your suite, a brief moment of silence hangs over you like a cloud.

“Tomorrow our destinies are intertwined” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “are you ready?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, and you take a deep breath. You have never been this uncertain, yet somehow you feel more sure of yourself than ever before.

You give him a firm nod, your expression set and determined. He bows his head slightly in understanding and steps away, continuing down the hall. As his footsteps recede into the distance you watch him go. As he approaches the door to his room he pauses for a moment, his silhouette framed in the doorway. He turns back one more time, his hand resting on the doorframe. His eyes meet yours and there is a moment of understanding passing between the two of you, as if a silent promise has been made.

He steps through the doorway and disappears from view, leaving you alone in the darkened, emptied corridor. You can hear the distant sounds of the servants making preparations and you feel a sudden wave of anxiety wash over you. Your heart is pounding and you can feel your nerves beginning to fray. You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself; there is nothing to be done but to get some rest and prepare yourself for the inevitable. Tomorrow will be a long, emotionally draining day, and you need to be at your best.

With that you turn to face your chambers, entering and shutting the door firmly behind you. Once you fully enter you are met with the warm glow of candles and the comfortable surrounding of your personal space. Delia is bustling about, ensuring that everything is in order, and you can sense her nervousness and excitement.

You can see the glint of anticipation in her eyes as she smiles warmly, “My lady,” she says, her voice soft and respectful, “are you ready for tomorrow?”

You smile slightly, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the idea, “as i’ll ever be,” you say quietly, your tone laced with a mix of trepidation.

“Of course, my lady,” Delia says, nodding in understanding. She immediately begins to rummage through your wardrobe, pulling out a soft nightgown and various other items for you to change into.

You watch her for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. You try to push aside the anxiety and focus on the task at hand. Sleep.

Delia hands you a sedative, which you gladly take, and you wash it down with the cup of sleepy time tea sat on your nightstand. With one final huff you climb into your bed, letting the soft sheets envelop you as Delia begins to blow out the various candles positioned around your room. Soon you are in complete darkness as you hear your dor click shut, signaling her leave.

Your eyelids grow heavy as you start to feel the weight of sleep pulling you into the darkness. The soft moonlight filtering through the curtains becomes hazy and distorted, the shadows dancing on the walls like a silent, dreamlike show. Your mind begins to wander, fragmented images and emotions flash through your mind like a slideshow of memory and imagination. For the first time since your arrival on Caladan, you do not dream.

You are pulled from your sleep as light filters in through the, now open, curtains, landing on your face.

“Goodmorning my lady” Delia says, standing near your window, “I'm sorry to wake you, but the day has begun.” The words send a jolt through your body causing you to sit up in bed, the reality of the day quickly coming to the forefront of your mind. You take a deep breath in an attempt to collect yourself,

“Thank you Delia,” you say as you stretch out your arms, feeling the knots and kinks from sleeping begin to fade. You swing your legs over the bed and stride to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face as you grip the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror.

You hear the sound of your door opening and the ruffeling of dresses. Delia. You exit the bathroom and see an array of morning dresses laid out for you.

Delia greets you with a smile and instantly delves into the schedule for the day, “Your schedule starts early I'm afraid,” she says, her tone earnest and efficient. “Breakfast is served in the small dining area to the left of the main hall, Lady Jessica will be joining you today. You will then be escorted to a dressing room to prepare you for the ceremony. The ceremony will be in the great hall at noon,” she takes a breath, “then there will be a reception and a few diplomatic meetings scheduled in the latter half of the day.”

Her words are like a deluge, washing over you like a tidal wave of responsibilities and expectations. You take a breath, trying to absorb everything she's said.

Soon you are swiftly dressed and on your way to breakfast, Delia trailing at your side. As you reach the small room you see Jessica waiting, dressed in a deep red gown, her hair pulled back into a simple yet elegant braid. She smiles as you enter, her eyes filled with pride and excitement.

“Good morning,” she says as you take a seat against her, her voice is warm as she busies herself with making you a cup of tea. “Did you sleep well?”

“As well as can be expected. I'm looking forward to the day,” you reach for the teacup, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. It helps calm your nerves, even if it's just for the moment that you feel the warmth go down your throat.

Jessica nods, a slight smile playing on her lips.

“Today is a momentous occasion, and it’s important to start the day off on the right foot. I have full confidence in you. You will do well today.” Her words sink in, bolstering your resolve, and confidence. You take another sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through your body even further.

“Thank you, Lady Jessica.” You say, smiling faintly.

“”Of course” her expression softened to one of affection, “you are soon to be part of the family.” With that, she turns her attention to the breakfast spread laid out in front of you, gesturing for you to help yourself to the various dishes laid out before you.

The breakfast is an assortment of simple yet delicious fare; fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and a selection of the finest meats and cheeses. You help yourself to a few items, relishing the taste and texture of the food as you welcome the distraction from the anxiety swirling in your mind.

Through the meal, you both chat softly about the various guests who will be attending the ceremony and the different diplomatic interactions that will no doubt take place.

Jessica offers her perspective and advice in a way that is both insightful and reassuring, and you begin to feel more prepared for the day’s events. You are aware that many of her inputs are that of the Bene Gesserit, and the more in detail she goes about the politics you slowly start to realize the true influence of this faction in Imperial politics.

As you finish your breakfast, Jessica dabs her lips with a napkin and looks at you, “It’s nearly time,” she says, her tone steady yet excited.

You nod to the attendant, who quickly steps forward to escort you to the changing room. Once you approach the lavish room, Delia immediately springs into action. She dismisses the servants and grabs ahold of your arm, pulling you into the room.

“Quickl, my lady, we must get you dressed into the ceremony attire.” Her voice is ecstatic as she helps you out of the breakfast gown and quickly guides you to a table where your gown is laid out.

It is a work of art, made from the finest silk, and shimmers softly in the light. As you begin to step into it you feel the silken fabric glide over your body, the weight and texture immediately grounding and empowering you.

Within moments, with the help of various other attendants, you are dressed. The gown fits your frame perfectly.

You gaze into a mirror adjacent to where you are standing and it all begins to become very real. You are to be Empress, your father is to be executed, and you are to marry. WIth a sigh you turn away and stride to take your seat at the vanity, where the hairstylist is waiting to do your hair alongside the makeup artist.

In a whirl of powders and sprays your hair is weaved into an elegant braid, a few strands laying around your face, which glimmers in the light. You close your eyes as your jewelry is put on and a few adornments are put in your braid.

As you stand all the attendants watch in awe, you are befitting th4e elegant and regal occasion of the day.

“You look magnificent” Delia says, adoration dripping in her voice, “Are you ready?” She asks softly.

With that you take a deep breath to gather your composure, smoothing out the gown with your hands. Despite the nerves still fluttering deep inside you, you feel a newfound sense of confidence and poise. “Yes,” you say, voice steady and determined, “I’m ready.”

With that Delia takes hold of your arm, giving it a light squeeze, as you turn to leave the room, your gown swishing softly with each step. You are led to a small, private room adjacent to the great hall. The room is dimly lit, the heavy velvet drapes drawn closed to create a sense of enclosure and solitude. As you step inside, you can her the soft murmur of voices and chatter from the other room, the sounds of the bustling guests filtering through the thick wood door.

You take a moment to steady yourself, taking deep breaths as you look around the room, taking in the simple yet elegant decorations and furniture. A small chair is placed by the door, and a small table holds a tray of light refreshments, untouched and waiting.

“Wait here while I make one final round to ensure everything is ready” Delia says softly, “I'll be back in just a moment my lady” She then slips out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

You are left alone in the room, the sound of your own breathing echoing softly in the quiet space. You take a moment to ground yourself, closing your eyes and focusing on your breath, slowing it and deepening it until your heart rate has slowed to a steady beat.

The silence in the room is both calming and claustrophobic, and you find yourself wandering around the small space, your hands touching the smooth fabric of the drapes and the cool, polished wood of the furniture. The wait feels endless, but you know that you must remain patient and composed until the time comes.

The sounds from the great hall seem to grow louder and more insistent, the excited chatter and laughter seeping through the closed door. You can almost picture the scene unfolding just a few feet away from you, the guests gathering and taking their seats, the ceremony attendants going about their duties.

You can hear the sound of the orchestra playing a beautiful instrumental piece, the melodic strains filling the air. It’s a signal that the ceremony is about to begin, and you can hear the guests in the great hall hushing and settling into their seats. You can imagine Paul preparing to walk out, his steps measured and steady, his presence commanding and regal.

You stand near the door, listening intently for any further sounds or cues that would indicate that it's your turn to walk out. The anticipation is almost overwhelming, and in the quiet of the small room, your thoughts and emotions threaten to drown you.

suddenly, the door creaks open, and Delia steps into the room, her expression calm and composed. "it's time, my lady," she says softly, her voice carrying an air of urgency. "the ceremony is about to begin. are you ready?"

your heart skips a beat at her words, and you nod, gathering your composure and courage. you take one final deep breath, smoothing out your gown and straightening your shoulders. "yes," you reply, your voice steady and firm. "I'm ready."

Delia nods in approval, her eyes gleaming softly in the dim light. "you're going to do splendidly," she whispers, her voice tinged with a sense of pride. "just remember to stay composed, and everything will be alright."

with those words, she moves towards you, giving a final inspection to make sure that everything is in order. She adjusts a stray lock of hair, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Finally satisfied, she steps back and motions for you to follow her out. "Let's go," she says, her voice soft but firm. "The ceremony awaits."

you take a deep breath and follow her out of the room, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet that lines the hallway. your heart is pounding in your chest as you approach the great hall, the sound of the music and the murmured conversations growing louder with every step.

the great hall doors are massive, carved from the finest wood and polished to a mirror-like finish. the intricate patterns and motifs etched into the wood are a testament to the skill and craftsmanship that went into its creation. as you approach the doors, you can hear the sounds of the ceremony attendants bustling about on the other side, readying themselves for the ceremony. the air is thick with anticipation and excitement, and you can almost feel the energy simmering just beyond the threshold.

As the doors slowly swing open, you see the great hall spread before you, a grand space filled with guests and attendants. The room is bathed in a warm, golden light, and the air is filled with the scent of roses and incense. As you step forward to the aisle, the eyes of the guests turn to you, and a hushed silence falls over the room.

———

Next chapter (coming soon…)

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[heydrangeas]

[dune spoilers]

at the end of dune 2, paul extends his hand to the emperor, and the emperor doesn’t take it right away, and paul stomps his foot. it’s authoritative, but childish. it’s the perfect encapsulation of who paul is in that moment. his naïveté and his grandiosity all tied into one. brilliant

[ewans-mitchell]

I am Paul Muad'dib Atreides! Duke of Arrakis!

Timothée Chalamet as Paul Atreides in DUNE: PART TWO (2024) dir. Denis Villeneuve

[effbeeaitch]

duneposting

[ayo-edebiri]

Dune: Part Two + text posts

[tato-potat]

i feel like we're not talking enough about how absolutely bonkers it is that over the span of the next three or so months, we'll see Timothee Chalamet as the star of both Wonka and Dune Part II

like, in one movie, he's a young man with a great and terrible destiny ahead of him, gaining the respect and admiration of an oppressed people to rise to a position of unimaginable religious power and authority, which he then uses to exert unilateral control over a psychoactive substance so powerful that society has no choice but to bow to his will as he steps into a messianic identity that reshapes the world in his name

and in the other he's Paul Atreides

[victoriartdrawings]

[rhaenyratheecruel]

Dune Part Two (2024), dir. Denis Villeneuve