Dreams are messages from the deep|| Paul Atreides

Duncan, Paul, Gurney, Leto, Thufir, and Aurora stood in a half-circle around Duncan, listening intently as he recounted his time living among the Fremen. His voice, though steady, held a tone of respect for the people he had spent the last month with.

"For four weeks, I lived with the Fremen," Duncan began, his gaze moving from face to face. "Hidden in the desert, in a community called a sietch."

Duke Leto, ever the strategist, immediately asked, "This sietch, how is it hidden?"

"It's underground. Arrakis is filled with caverns," Duncan explained, his eyes flickering toward the desert outside the windows, a landscape he had come to know far more intimately.

Paul, always curious, leaned forward slightly. "How big is this place?"

"I'd say 10,000 people. And there are hundreds of sietches."

At this, Aurora's eyes widened in astonishment. She hadn't expected the Fremen to number so many. Her mind raced as she tried to comprehend what that meant: Millions of Fremen? The desert held far more life and power than anyone could have imagined.

Leto's brows furrowed as he turned to Thufir. "Millions of Fremen," he echoed, almost in disbelief. "You were right," he added, nodding toward the Mentat.

Thufir, who had long suspected the Fremen's hidden strength, responded, "The Harkonnen estimate was 50,000 on the whole planet."

Duncan, his voice calm but with an edge of reverence, continued. "The Fremen watched me search for them for days. I never saw them. Finally, they sent a warrior out to kill me. And I have to tell you—I have never come so close to dying. There's no finer fighter in the Empire. They fight like demons."

Leto's eyes gleamed with recognition of the potential. "Desert power." He repeated the words slowly, as if tasting their significance. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Duncan's shoulder in gratitude. "Well done."

Duncan, ever humble, dipped his head slightly. "Thank you, my lord."

Before the conversation could continue, a guard stepped forward, addressing the Duke with urgency. "Sire, their leader has a knife he won't surrender."

Duncan quickly interjected, "It's a crysknife. It's sacred to his people." The mention of the crysknife pulled Aurora back into her own thoughts, the memory of Shadout Mapes and the crysknife she had given her resurfacing. It still sat on her desk, untouched since the strange encounter. She felt a pang of discomfort. Was there more to that interaction than she had realized?

Leto's voice snapped her back to the present. "Let him pass."

All eyes turned to the door as a second guard entered, followed by a figure cloaked in dark brown. His steps were purposeful, unhurried, as though the authority in the room meant little to him. As he neared the group, Gurney barked, "Stop there." But the figure paid no heed and came to a halt only a few meters away from where Duncan, Leto, Paul, and Aurora stood. With deliberate motion, he pulled down his hood, revealing piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow from within his weathered face.

Paul instinctively stepped slightly in front of Aurora, his hand reaching out protectively, while his eyes carefully sized up the man standing before them. The stranger had a powerful presence—one that immediately commanded the attention of everyone in the room.

"Stilgar. Welcome," Leto spoke, breaking the tension. "Sir, I respect the personal dignity of any man that respects mine."

There was a brief pause as Stilgar took in the room, his eyes lingering on each face, assessing, measuring. Then, without a word, he leaned forward and spit on the table in front of them. The sound of the spittle hitting the wood echoed in the sudden silence. Gurney took a sharp step forward, his hand going to the hilt of his weapon, his voice a low growl as he prepared to confront the perceived insult. "Hey—!"

But Leto, raising a hand, commanded, "Hold, Gurney." His tone was calm, though firm, and his gaze remained fixed on Stilgar.

Aurora bit her lip, fighting the urge to burst into laughter at the oddity of the situation. She could feel Paul's eyes on her and when she glanced up, she saw him suppressing a grin. His eyes sparkled with amusement at her barely-contained laughter.

Duncan, recognizing the Fremen gesture, stepped in smoothly. "Thank you, Stilgar, for the gift of your body's moisture. We accept it in the spirit in which it was given." As if to reinforce the gesture, Duncan spit on the table as well. Leto followed suit, understanding the significance, and Aurora had to bite down harder on her lip to keep her composure.

Paul leaned in slightly, whispering, "I know, it's ridiculous." His voice carried a playful tone, only encouraging Aurora's amusement. She shot him a look, shaking her head, but the shared moment lightened the tension between them, if only briefly.

Leto, now back in control of the room, addressed Stilgar once more. "I'm glad you've come. I believe your people and mine have much to offer one another."

Stilgar, who had been standing silently, shook his head slowly. His accent, thick and foreign, added weight to his words. "No. No, you are outlanders. You come here for the spice. You take it, giving nothing in return."

Aurora felt her brow furrow. As blunt as it was, Stilgar's statement carried the bitter truth of how outsiders had always treated Arrakis. Paul, as if reading her thoughts, spoke up.

"That's true." His voice was steady, and for the first time, Stilgar turned his gaze toward Paul and Aurora. There was curiosity in his eyes as he observed them, particularly Aurora, who met his gaze without flinching.

Leto, intent on building a bridge between their peoples, interjected. "I know you've suffered at the hands of the Harkonnens. Name whatever you want. If it's in my power to grant, I'll give it, and ask for nothing."

Stilgar's gaze shifted back to the Duke. He remained unmoved by Leto's offer. "I ask for this: Do not seek our sietches. Do not trespass in our lands. The desert was ours long before you came. So come, dig your spice, but when you have it, go back to this side of the shield wall... and leave the desert to the Fremen." His voice held the weight of a people who had fought too long for survival to trust easily.

Gurney, standing tense beside Leto, growled, "You will address the Duke as 'my lord' or 'sire.'"

Leto raised a hand, cutting Gurney off. "Gurney... just a moment." He looked directly at Stilgar. "The Emperor has given me Arrakis as my fief, to rule and protect. I cannot promise not to travel into the desert if duty compels me. But your sietches will be yours forever. And you will never be hunted while I govern here."

Stilgar studied Leto, his face unreadable. After a long pause, he nodded once. "That's very honorable. I must go. That's all I have to say to you." He turned on his heel and began walking toward the door.

Paul, sensing an opportunity, called out, "Won't you stay?" Stilgar paused, glancing over his shoulder. "We would honor you."

Stilgar squinted at Paul and Aurora, his eyes narrowing as if appraising something deeper. "Honor requires that I be elsewhere," he said curtly. His next words were in a foreign tongue, one that sounded strange to Aurora, yet hauntingly familiar. "I recognize you," he murmured, his gaze fixed on Aurora before he swiftly turned and exited the room.

"I don't like him," Gurney muttered under his breath, but Aurora barely registered the comment. Her mind was elsewhere, replaying the words Stilgar had spoken.

Thufir's voice broke the tension. "Our plan bears fruit."

Leto nodded, though his expression remained cautious. "But it will take time."

"Yes. It will take time," Thufir agreed, and the room fell into a reflective silence, each of them considering the long road ahead.

Author speaking:

Hello guys

I know I promised something longer and you will get it but i haven't been feeling very well so sorry (also why i'm a bit late with the publication sorry about that)

Have a good day/night