Whispers Before the Storm

by that_one_kid

Summary:

In 10191 AG, Count Hasimir Fenring is the Emperor's most trusted confidante - until he refuses the order to kill Paul Atreides. But what path led an assassin of the Bene Gesserit Way to such prominence in the Emperor's court in the first place? When did he meet his wife, the mysterious Margot Fenring? For answers, we must turn to the past, where a young Hasimir began to spin the web of conspiracy that came to entangle his whole life.

Notes:

Playing with tone here, so if it feels like purple prose I blame Frank Herbert.

Trigger warnings at end!

Chapter 1: The Citadel of Dirt and Stone

10191 AG, Arrakis

The Emperor gave the man next to him a look urging imminent violence and Jessica suppressed a spike of adrenaline. She recognized him, of course. Count Fenring had been the intermediary governor of Arrakis before their arrival - not to mention that she knew of his wife, Lady Margot Fenring, a fellow Bene Gesserit agent. What worried her now was that they had not appeared in Paul’s prediction of this moment.

Count Fenring turned his calm gaze on Paul, and Jessica suppressed a shudder. As terrifying as Paul had become, she did not want to see him fight this man with the eyes of a Mentat assassin and the control of a Bene Gesserit. As all eyes turned to the Count and the Mua’dib, Lady Fenring made the smallest of motions. Subtle code-sign, though nothing standard. They must have developed their own codes. Jessica tamped down an unwieldy flare of jealousy and kept watching. The Count, evidently watching his Lady despite the urgency of the situation, replied with a tiny motion of his own. Not enough details to the motion - it was a reference to a previous conversation, as opposed to a back-and-forth. Jessica spared a moment to be impressed that anything happening here had been discussed in any prior conversation. 

“Do it,” the Emperor hissed, and Jessica’s relief flared along her spine. Based on the vitriol of the Emperor’s tone, Fenring had never wavered or hesitated before. The fact that he’d done so now had lost him the Emperor’s trust - the very tool he’d used to stay alive this long. He would not have allowed that to happen lightly. 

“Majesty, I must refuse,” he said, as calmly and lightly as if discussing the weather. Jessica spotted the knife in Margot’s hand and wondered for a moment if the Bene Gesserit would punish the Count’s disloyalty. But Margot only took a step away from the guards behind her. The two of them, then, were unified in this world-altering decision without so much as a word spoken between them.

The Emperor strode forward angrily and jerkily struck a blow across Fenring’s face. Jessica, thinking of her Duke, waited for the counterblow. But Fenring just flushed - deliberately, Jessica noted - and spoke without a hint of his usual stammer. 

“We have been friends, Majesty. What I do now is out of friendship. I will forget that you struck me.”

A shiver ran across the back of her neck as Paul, behind her, shifted his new and terrible focus. But for a brief moment as the conversation moved on, her mind lingered on the strangeness of this Bene Gesserit and her Count. 

 

10140 AG, The Emperor's Court

There is a story of blood and dust, of sand and the long, messy rise to war. 

This is not (precisely) that story. 

 

“He is flawed,” Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam said sharply. “You saw the genetic reports.”

“He’s the closest our efforts have created,” Reverend Mother Aurelius Edith Omar objected. “He is taking to the training well, and he is imbedded in the Emperor’s household. Would it not be a waste?”

“A man-child, trained in our ways but not capable of being Kwisatz Haderach?” the first Reverend Mother said. “The Council would look most sharply upon our failings. No, better to kill the boy now and destroy the evidence.” 

Nestled deep within the wall, seven year old Hasimir Fenring was absolutely still. No one else could use this tunnel, not even the other children. He was small for his age, narrow-shouldered and rail-thin. It was a disadvantage in combat training that was useful to him now. The edge of a wiring panel was digging into his ribs hard enough to bruise, but he barely noticed. His pale grey eyes were solemn and focused. 

“If it must be done, it must,” Reverend Mother Edith agreed. “Will the boy’s mother intervene?” 

“No,” Reverend Mother Helen said. “She is loyal to the Bene Gesserit.” 

“I will make the necessary arrangements,” Reverend Mother Edith said calmly.

Hasimir closed his eyes uselessly against the stifling blackness of the tunnel and forced his pulse to slow. He tuned out the sound of shuffling feet as the Reverend Mothers scattered from the hidden enclave to return to their more official chambers above.

They would move as soon as they had a plan in place, since there was no point in wasting time. He needed to move faster. He sank into an approximation of Prana-Bindu - the controlled focus of a Bene Gesserit. He had a plan that would work for this, but he needed to recall it perfectly. 

Once the room had been silent for several minutes, he stirred and began the laborious task of shuffling his way back out of the wall. With a puff of dust, he re-emerged into the regular service tunnels and brushed off his shirt. 

He set off down the corridor, the suspensor lamps flickering at his passage. He stopped in a seemingly unremarkable patch of tunnel, pressing one small hand to the stone wall. He had noticed it a year or so ago, the faint vibrations you could sometimes feel through the walls here. The high-strength shield belts that the heirs wore while training sent vibrations even further than the scaled-down cousins that the guards wore. Hasimir was below the training room then, as he’d intended.

One hand moved to the small kindjal he wore strapped to his ribs, and he tapped his fingers against it consideringly. He’d had the plan, in some form or another, almost as far back as he could remember. What was stopping him now? He closed his eyes again, drew his focus back to his body. His heart was beating fast, adrenaline interrupting his natural reserve of calm. His breathing was slightly shallower than normal, but that was only due to the animal instinct of being in tunnels under miles of heavy stone. He ran through the steps of the plan and monitored his body. There - a sharp spike in his heart rate. He did not want to lose the knife. He had been unarmed in the court before, and undoubtedly would be again. So why? 

A memory surfaced, and he turned his attention to it. 

“You have been doing well at training, my son,” his mother said softly. She was kneeling next to him as he sat cross-legged on his old bed. Her hand rested on his knee, hot in comparison to the temperature he was straining to keep his body at. “Here.” A rustle of fabric, a weight dipping the blanket by his leg. In his memory, the younger Hasimir does not open his eyes. “A kindjal, a death-maker, a knife. It was mine once. Now it is yours.” 

So it was nostalgia that bound him to this blade. He frowned. Despite the Reverend Mother’s warnings, he had never quite shaken the flaw of trust. They had said his mother would not resist their attempts to kill him, and they had spoken truthfully. But that only meant they believed his mother would help them. 

“Move, boy,” a voice said sharply, and he flattened himself against the tunnel wall as a servant woman dragged by a cart laden with a large jug of water and several stone cups. The plan had to take effect now, or nothing would happen in time. 

Hasimir followed her, his footsteps silent on the stone floors. He was barely visible, one thin shadow against the flickering dark. She took a spiraling ramp up to a set of heavy doors and nodded at the guards there. They drew the doors open at her approach, and Hasimir darted in behind. Between his serving clothes and familiarity, they didn’t question his presence - presumably he was there to assist with the water. 

This was Hasimir’s greatest weapon. Not a girl, to be viewed with the suspicion of a possible Bene Gesserit. Not a noble, angling for position. Not an adult, to be viewed as a threat. Within reasonable limits, the vastness of the Emperor’s Court was his to wander. He moved forward quickly, taking one side of the heavy water jug and helping the serving woman lift it onto the table.

Across the room, the Emperor’s second son, Shaddam IV, was training with his instructor. Their swords were a blur as they circled each other, the humming energy of their shields forcing each too-quick stroke away. 

The serving woman followed his gaze and he took her moment of distraction to move. He pressed the handle of his kindjal firmly into her hand. In the moment when her unconscious mind led her to briefly accept it, he drew quickly away. 

“An attack!” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the hapless woman now standing armed in the training room. “She means to kill him!” 

The guards in the room sprang into action, leaping forward and cutting the woman down in an instant as the swords instructor spun to put his body between his student and the threat. 

As the woman’s body hit the floor, Hasimir felt a shudder of nausea pass through him, breaking through his bodily controls. With a great effort, he re-exerted his mental blocks. 

“What happened?” Shaddam cried. He was holding his rapier threateningly, glancing quickly around the room. 

“It’s alright now, Highness,” Hasimir said, with a deep bow of formal reverence. It was slightly too much for this situation, as he well knew. An address more generally reserved for the Emperor. “She was an assassin. I saw her pull the blade from the serving jug and cried out.” 

“The blade,” a guard said dully, holding up Hasimir’s kindjal. 

“Thank you,” Shaddam said, stepping forward. He was solidly built, broad-shouldered for his age in direct contrast to Hasimir’s thinner form. Flushed with exertion, his face was almost as red as his bright ginger hair. “Truly. There are men who would not have acted so swiftly, and if she was Bene Gesserit such swiftness would have been most necessary.” He considered Hasimir, his courtly manner slowly returning as the sense of danger fled. “I recognize you.” 

“I believe we are distantly related, your Highness,” he said. “Cousins of some removal.” 

“And you are a servant?” Shaddam asked. “Well, no longer. Come, we shall outfit you as a member of my guards.” He sent one short glare at the door that Hasimir and the serving woman had come through. “Kill the guards outside,” he snapped at the Sardukar holding the blade. 

Hasimir followed him out of the room and pretended not to hear the dull thud of blade against flesh. It only belatedly occurred to him, as the doors swung shut behind them, that perhaps his aversion to this plan had nothing to do with losing his blade at all. 

Chapter 2: A Darker Melody

Notes:

Updated TWs, check at the end!

Hasimir was curled up underneath the rough cover on his new bed, rubbing the material between his fingers. It was a bad habit - a leftover instinct from years of mapping his body’s response to stimuli. Still, he found it calming, and he was starting to suspect calmness might be a scarcity in the days to come. 

He’d asked for protection from possible retaliation to his foiling of the supposed assassination. Shaddam had obliged, and Hasimir had been quickly moved into a dorm of the Emperor’s guards.

It didn’t make him much safer, as some of the guards were certainly compromised by Bene Gesserit agents. However, any attack here, or even his mysterious disappearance, would seem to confirm the presence of a determined and powerful threat to a member of the Emperor’s family. Which would certainly draw more attention than killing him would be worth. Almost certainly.

He caught himself rubbing the blanket between his fingers again and forced his fingers to still. 

The next step was simple. He had won temporary trust from Shaddam, but would need more favor to keep himself out of the hungry jaws of the agents sure to be pursuing him.

The Emperor’s second (and less-guarded) son had been the highest target he could aim for quickly, but his current position came with a secondary benefit. If Hasimir killed the heir, he would be in the secure position of serving under the heir who would then be indebted to him. To suggest such a thing was treason, naturally, so he needed Shaddam to think the idea was his.

He didn’t have time to properly implant such an idea from scratch, but luck was with him there. He’d seen Shaddam fighting. Beside being broad-shouldered and fast, the boy was hungry enough to be reckless. It was dripping from his every motion - he wanted to be the best. More than that, he wanted to be seen as the best. Hasimir couldn’t relate. Being seen was such an inconvenience for getting things done. 

So, how to convey to the ambitious Prince that the tool of his promotion was finally at hand?

He needed a display of strength, subtle enough that he wouldn’t be noticed by others, but obvious enough to get Shaddam to approach him. 

He tried to fall asleep thinking of various plans, but could no longer block out the sound of the guards cutting down the woman in the training room. His last conscious thought was that he really should have learned her name.

 

He dreamed of a butterfly, gleaming in crimson and gold. He awoke with a plan.

 

It took the better part of the two hours before daybreak to find the perfect tool for his endeavor. He snuck back into the Court and showered off the mud and forest moss before slinging on his new uniform and heading to his duties. 

He stood with the guards as Shaddam woke, dressed, and ate. As they entered the Central Hall, though, Shaddam beckoned for him to stand closer. 

“What do you think?” Shaddam whispered to him as they stood solemnly watching a line of petitioners approach the throne.

Upon the throne the Crown Prince Fafnir sat, delivering judgment with the Emperor standing to his side. Sometimes a petitioner cheered with elation and sometimes the clean scrape of a blade leaving a sheath heralded a different sort of exit. Hasimir considered his companion. He got the sense that Shaddam, while eager to pursue his father’s throne, was no fool. Idle flattery or pretending to be overwhelmed would not help him here. 

“I think they are all desperate,” he said simply. “Wiser not to let them leave still thus.” Shaddam hummed softly in agreement.

Hasimir turned his gaze back to the scarlet banners behind the throne, pretending he could not feel the eyes of the Reverend Mother beside the Emperor burning into him with fierce calculation. He imagined the sigil of the golden lion coming alive with a roar - and let the Reverend Mother see his slow smile. 

At last, Shaddam retired back to his room with his company of personal guards. They began to take up what were clearly customary positions, and Hasimir shifted in feigned discomfort. The movement concealed the quick motion of his hand as he set free his quarry from earlier that morning. 

“Where would you like me to stand?” he asked, carefully deferential. Shaddam glanced around the room. 

“Hunter-seeker!” a guard warned sharply, and Shaddam’s shield went up so fast Hasimir had to dodge backward. He let his eyes go to the flicker of motion darting around the room. 

“No, you idiot,” Shaddam said with a relieved sigh. “That’s just a bird.” 

“Your Majesty,” Hasimir said, ducking his head. Then with a grace that screamed ‘hunter’ to anyone paying attention, he surged forward and leapt off the top of a nearby wooden chest with his hands outstretched. 

He landed softly, noiselessly, and padded back to the Prince. He moved two fingers to reveal the songbird cradled in his hands, trembling but unhurt. 

“You have some skill, I’ll grant you,” Shaddam said admiringly. He watched as the little bird struggled to escape Hasimir’s grasp. Hasimir held perfectly still. 

“Kill it,” Shaddam said, and Hasimir broke its neck with a single, unhesitating twist. 

Neither of the boys said anything for a long moment. Hasimir raised his eyes to meet Shaddam’s and waited. 

“I’ve got an idea,” Shaddam said softly. “Why don’t we go turn on the cone of silence by my desk?”

Between them, red and gold feathers drifted to the ground. 

Chapter 3: Flaws

Notes:

We saw Margot in the movie! But I suppose the Count, true to form, was too subtle to spot.

Hasimir licked his lips and identified the faintest taste of blood. Powdered iron, so fine it could pass easily into the bloodstream. Nearly unavoidable for him to have breathed it in, but that was accounted for. Now he just had to lever the last pieces into place. 

There was the faintest scuff of cloth against stone, and Hasimir dropped his focus on his plans in an instant. He spun just in time to spot the delicate point of a poisoned needle flying toward his neck. With a speed borne from years of training unshielded, he reached out and seized the wrist of his assailant. He held the wrist of a girl perhaps a year older than him, with piercing grey-green eyes and blonde curls. He kept his hand locked around her thin wrist, but was otherwise still. They considered each other for a moment in silence. 

“You are Bene Gesserit,” he said, and knew it for truth. She did not answer. “They have sent you to kill me. They have determined I am about to succeed and moved to desperate measures.” 

She did not retort, though he caught a faint narrowing of her eyes. The insinuation that she was a last resort had irritated her. A moment later her face smoothed back into a calm mask as she caught the emotion and tamed it. Hasimir was acutely aware of the needle, still poised a few inches from his neck in her restrained hand.

“Why do they want you dead?” she asked, and he felt a sudden spark of hope. Curiosity worked in his favor. 

“I am about to infiltrate the Emperor’s Court,” he said. “I have made contact with the second son.” No need to specify further. He could see her putting the pieces together. 

“You intend to kill the heir,” she said calmly. 

“The plan is already in motion,” he replied, equally level. “ Amafa .” He saw her posture relax slightly into focus as she retrieved the meaning of the Chakobsa word and applied it. 

“You are Bene Gesserit,” she said. “How? The Reverend Mothers told me we do not train men-children.” 

“I do not know,” he admitted. “But I heard them speaking of a plan to kill me. They said that I could not be the Kwisatz Haderach, whatever that is. They have found some genetic flaw. They were worried that other Reverend Mothers would know they had attempted to train me.” 

“It is uncommon for Reverend Mothers to be overheard,” she said. They both stood as still as stone. He could feel her pulse in her wrist where he had seized it, and she undoubtedly could feel his pulse in turn. Oddly enough, it compelled him to honesty. What was the point of lying when both parties could detect such a lie in a heartbeat?

“There is a tunnel,” he said. “Or rather, a network of cracks. I suspect it was caused by tectonic activity. I had been exploring it when I discovered it runs behind some of the caverns used by the Reverend Mothers to discuss business.” 

“You tell me too much and too freely,” she said. “You intend to kill me.” 

“I could not,” he said. Slowly, the pressure against his grip relaxed and he let go. She lowered the needle to her side, tucking it back away inside her simple leather bracelet. 

“You mean that,” she said with surprise. “I have not before met a boy who could overcome his pride. Are you Yataghayar?” It wasn’t an unreasonable guess. Yataghayar - children who grew to be a few years old before their families discovered their true natures were female - were not uncommon in the Bene Gesserit. 

“No, I am indeed a boy,” he said. “But the truth in what I spoke is obvious. You are older and better-trained. The time it would take me to draw my blade would leave me dead.” 

“I should not have let you speak,” she said, with a faint frown. “The Reverend Mothers want you dead to keep their secret. Were I to kill you, they would ask me upon my return if I had learned it. Whether I lied or told the truth, they would know, and kill me to keep it.” 

Hasimir inclined his head in acknowledgement. 

“You have another option,” he suggested mildly. 

“Join with you?” she said with a scoff. “Not very creative. You’d kill me as soon as you had the chance.” 

“Not necessarily,” he said. He knew this was dangerous. It was likely his fatal flaw, that urge to trust breaking through his barriers again. But there was something about this girl - the sarcastic humor, the quickness of her thoughts - that gave him hope. 

“We could gain an advantage over each other through betrayal,” he admitted. “But if we truly agreed to not betray each other and executed our plans in genuine partnership, we would gain a greater advantage still.” 

“You are betrayed by your impulse to connect,” she said, though not unkindly. 

“In an hour, I will have the loyalty of the Emperor’s heir,” Hasimir said. “It could be said it is an impulse that has served me well so far.” She considered him, her grey-green eyes boring into his pale ones. Then, a sudden grin spread across her face. 

“I’m Margot,” she said, offering her hand. 

“Hasimir,” he replied, though certain she knew. “A pleasure.” He shook her hand with a nod. 

“What now?” she asked, a more guarded curiosity in her expression. Testing him, undoubtedly. 

“I have a needle laced with ardentin,” Hasimir said. “I just need to apply it.”

“Ardentin is only a mild sedative,” Margot pointed out, raising one eyebrow. “You intend it in combination?”

“It is mild enough to pass the palace poison snoopers,” Hasimir said. “But in combination with the catalyst currently lacing the blood of every court member, it is sufficient to kill.” Margot thoughtfully ran a finger along the nearby grate and stuck it in her mouth.

“Powdered iron in the ventilation system,” she said. “Clever. We’re already dosed. Your method of approach?”

“External threat,” he said. “Something that will force them to gather the heirs and the Emperor into a safe area.” He had truly given her too much now. She had enough information to stop the plan, enough to bring him down. He raised his chin and met her eyes. 

“Their plan was for you to die,” he said bluntly. “My plan puts protection between both of us and the Reverend Mothers.” She was quiet for a moment. 

“This area is safe to talk?” she asked. He inclined his head. 

“So far,” he said. 

“We should develop some basic codes, regardless,” Margot suggested. “We’ll meet tonight, once it’s done. I’ll create the external threat.” 

“Very well,” he agreed. “I look forward to our partnership.”

Chapter 4: Sabot

Summary:

Details of the young Fenring and Margot's plan begin to come to light...

“Fenring!” Shaddam barked, an impressive amount of imperious command in his young voice. With a whisper of fabric, the smaller boy appeared at his shoulder. 

“Yes, Your Highness?” Hasimir said, head slightly inclined. He saw the signs of their success in the set of Shaddam’s shoulders, the gleam of mixed fear and triumph in his eyes. 

“You will retrieve the Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam and Reverend Mother Aurelius Edith Omar,” he said. He rolled his shoulders, as if physically trying on the power he was flexing. “They owe an explanation to the royal family for this third attack.” 

“Third, Your Highness?” Hasimir asked, the picture of innocence. “Besides the woman with the knife last week and the lasgun attack yesterday?” 

“Yes,” Shaddam said, slightly stiffly. “Crown Prince Fafnir perished last night due to some unknown poison. No trace of the poison was found anywhere but in his bloodstream. Now, fetch the Reverend Mothers.” 

“I’ll retrieve them immediately,” Hasimir said, backing out of the room with a low bow.

He would never be so crass as to allow himself a smile, even in the relative privacy of the cut-stone tunnels. But he felt a glimmer of relief and satisfaction at the fact that the plan was proceeding apace. 

He turned down a path far more familiar than his new daily route to Shaddam’s chambers. With his head held high and his posture perfect, he entered the section of the tunnels reserved for Bene Gesserit. He knocked on an unremarkable door, three sharp raps, and muttered a passphrase just loud enough for sensitive ears. The door swung open. 

Just inside, four Reverend Mothers were arranged in full formal wear. Next to them, his own mother stood with a severe expression on her face. 

“Humble greetings, your Reverences,” Hasimir said, with a respectfully deep bow. “Mother. I come with tidings from Crown Prince Shaddam IV Corrino.” 

“You can speak plainly here,” Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam said stiffly. “Why do you walk back into our ranks so brazenly?” Hasimir let a relatively convincing look of hurt confusion cross his face. 

“No brazenness intended, I am certain,” he said. “I carry the tragic news of the passing of the former Crown Prince, and a summons from the Emperor’s family.” His mother blanched, but he didn’t spare her a glance. “It is fortunate for the Bene Gesserit, is it not, that you have two agents so well-positioned in these turbulent times?” 

“Two agents?” Reverend Mother Aurelius Edith Omar asked, raising a single eyebrow. 

“My apologies. I refer to Margot Rashino-Zea and myself,” Hasimir said politely, and this time a flicker of his amusement escaped his control as Margot stepped languidly out from behind his slender frame.

“I told you she was too young!” Reverend Mother Helen hissed at the others. 

“Old enough to be handy with a lasgun,” Margot said with well-checked offense. The room understood that what she was saying was truly that she would not be as easy to kill as the Reverend Mothers had intended. 

“The young heir has asked me to investigate the three recent attacks,” Hasimir said. “He suspects Bene Gesserit involvement, you see.” 

“I see,” said Reverend Mother Aurelius Edith Omar. She seemed the least perturbed of any of the Reverend Mothers at the unfolding events. “And your sudden death would all but confirm such a theory, I suppose?” 

“One could certainly deduce that, ah-h-h, assumptions would be made in such a case,” Hasimir agreed. “Or if anything were to happen to my contact within the, hm, Bene Gesserit.” Margot, behind him, tapped the tip of her knife against his shoulder blade to indicate that she had received his coded message. 

“This is unprecedented!” Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam said sharply. “You are agents of the Bene Gesserit. We do not answer to you, you answer to us!” 

“Surely our activities prove to you the advantage of continuing to train me,” Margot said. “After all, I have collected a terribly helpful informant in the court.” In front of her Hasimir dipped his knee in a very slight impression of a curtsey. A dry joke - and a reminder that the two of them could tell the whole Conclave at any time that Hasimir himself had once been in training. 

“We will discuss this,” Reverend Mother Aurelius Edith Omar said. “For now, return to your posts. We will join the Imperial family shortly.”

The doors were drawn shut again, leaving the two children out in the hallway. Aware of the eyes and ears all around them, they turned back toward the palace in silence. 

“I think that, ah-h-h, went well,” Hasimir said a few turns later. Margot nodded, her grey-green eyes searching the shadows around them. 

“Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, hm-m-m, will come around,” she said. Hasimir nodded twice, and they continued on their way. 

In the shadows behind them, Hasimir’s mother watched her son walk away for the last time. She scratched Do they have a code? onto her notepad and faded back into the tunnels of her home.

Chapter 5: Many Happy Returns

Eight Years Later, Balut Colony Planet

When Margot returned to her guest quarters from the fête the family had thrown for her sixteenth birthday, there was a nearly invisible pattern of dots raised on the door handle. 

She entered the room with a faint smile already dancing around her lips. Sure enough, there was a familiar silhouette facing out the window with his back unwisely to the door. She slid a throwing knife into one hand from the lacy sleeve of the ridiculous ensemble she’d had to wear to the event, her hand closing smoothly around the worn wooden handle. With a quick flick of her wrist the knife flew toward her target.

Hasimir dodged to the side, catching the knife’s handle with a black handkerchief wrapped around his hand, and turned his crooked half-smile on her.

“Learned your lesson from my last knife?” she asked, letting her amusement color her tone. He’d caught the last knife she’d thrown at him, too, only he’d numbed his arm on contact with the soporific she’d dusted the handle with. It had been three hours before he’d been able to use it properly, which had made their joint mission much more entertaining. 

“Never let it be said I can’t learn my lesson,” he said with a chuckle. His posture was easy and relaxed, even as he shifted slightly to put the wall behind him as opposed to the window. “Ah-h-h, but you knew that already,” he continued, his tone warm and amused. She kept her sudden wariness tucked away where it couldn’t influence her posture or tone. Their code for warning, employed so early, meant urgent business. 

“Of course I do,” she replied lightly. “You, hm-m-m, finally stopped dropping your left elbow.” 

He tilted his head in her direction, setting her knife gingerly on the bedside table. She swallowed a darkly amused chuckle. So he’d finally been sent against her as an assassin. The Bene Gesserit must have tired of having an agent not fully under their control. 

“There’s something to be said, um-m-m-m, for reliability,” Hasimir said, meaning the opposite. There was an opportunity, then, to get herself back into the good graces of the Bene Gesserit. Something only an unpredictable free agent could do. 

“And are you, ah-h-h, reliable?” she asked, adding an incorrect code. Hasimir’s careful control was pronounced today, even more than his usual caution. He must know there was someone watching, which meant the possibility of a Mentat listening to their code. As per an agreement nearly as old as their partnership, that meant that certain codes were to be used randomly to obscure their meaning. 

“I have been said to be reliable,” he said, shaking his head. So whatever this task was, the Bene Gesserit didn’t wish to risk their closest connection to the heir to accomplish it. It must be dangerous, then.

Hasimir waited, head tilted just a hair to one side. She knew that he was waiting for her decision. If she indicated her agreement, he’d risk the punishment for letting her best him and escape while she attempted to complete this mystery task. If she refused, the two of them would be forced to disappear before the wrath of the Bene Gesserit turned on them. It would be a waste of the current identities they’d spent almost a decade constructing, and they’d have to start again with no resources beside what they had squirreled away from their various sponsors. 

“Well, there’s something to be said for the unexpected,” she said, blinking once. He set his gaze on the door behind her and frowned at it. 

“Ah-h-h, a most unfortunate choice,” he said. 

The next few events happened rapidly, to those of a non-Bene Gesserit eye. Hasimir twisted to reach for his kindjal in a sheath underneath his loose linen shirt. As he turned, Margot spotted the poison needle on the side of his belt. It was a respectable trap - subtle, well-concealed, and tiny - but it was also the exact same needle as he’d nicked her with during their last sparring session. She remembered that needle especially well because it had been laced with some watered-down poison which had itched like mad for hours until she’d managed to isolate it in her system and flush it. She shifted her balance, fingers closing on her current preferred weapon - a wicked curved blade that was used in the Harkonnen arenas. As Hasimir drew his kindjal she glanced at the needle. 

You don’t have to pull your punches so much, she hummed in their secret language. His eyes glittered with mischief and she hastily drew her own blade. He had a second secret weapon, then, probably designed to force her away from his person. While he was better with blade and needle, she could kill him with as few as three fingers and he knew it. 

“It doesn’t have to come to this,” Hasimir called, voice eerily soft. “You can come with me before things get… messy.” He had begun to build up a reputation as ‘House Corrino’s Messenger Boy,’ and this was the face he wore for it. The unease the performance was designed to induce crept briefly up Margot’s spine, but she locked it away. 

This, now, was cheating. But they’d long ago agreed it could be done if necessary to convince an observer of an enmity between the two of them. 

“Drop.” she said, the Voice rolling from her tongue like thunder. Normally she didn’t use the full register, preferring instead to fine-tune her application to her target, but she didn’t want to give away any weakness of Hasimir’s to their Mentat observer. The effect was instant - Hasimir dropped to his knees, his keen grey eyes suddenly vacant. Margot suppressed the urge to shudder. 

“Stay.” she commanded, and watched in muted sympathy as Hasimir’s muscles locked into rigid acceptance of the order. 

“This isn’t over,” she said sharply, knowing Hasimir would hear the truth in her tone. “There’s time and time again, mm-hmm.” With their rendezvous thus communicated, she dove out the open window behind him, catching the lip of the sill with both hands, and swung herself through the window of the room next door with a shattering of glass.

Even as she tucked and rolled, her mind went to the mission. What favor would hold such power over the Bene Gesserit that she could get back into their good graces now?

When she reached her secret stash of weapons and supplies, hidden just outside the city, she found a note hidden in dot-code on the blade of her poisoned knife. Donning a single white glove, she ran a light finger along it. 

Convince the heir to marry a Bene Gesserit. -H

“Oh, is that all?” she said to the empty room, and imagined Hasimir’s chuckle. “Right.” She began to prepare her weapons for travel. This wasn’t quite an impossible task. Hasimir had been manipulating the young heir for years, and she’d trained him enough to even implant a very subtle trigger phrase in the older boy’s subconscious. But they hadn’t attempted an influence of this magnitude before. 

As she slipped on board a shuttle heading toward Kaitain, the planet of their shared childhood, she began to scheme. 

Chapter 6: A Strategic Alliance

“Where have you been?” Shaddam asked sharply as Hasimir slipped inside the gates of his compound. 

“Unfortunately, I was unavoidably delayed, Your Highness,” Hasimir said dryly, dropping to one knee to avoid a bow. The still-healing slash across his back was slowly leaking blood into his already blood-stained linen shirt, and he saw the Emperor noting this and the dark circles under his eyes. “As you are aware, retrieving information from the Bene Gesserit can be a complicated process.” 

“Debrief me,” Shaddam said, whirling to walk briskly back toward his office. He made no allowance for Hasimir’s injuries in his speed, and Hasimir swallowed a wince as he rose. 

“As you requested, I offered my services as a Mentat assassin in exchange for information on House Atriedes,” Hasimir said. “They sent me after Margot.”

“You didn’t refuse?” Shaddam said, whirling to stare at Hasimir. He kept his eyes downcast, letting some of his genuine exhaustion leak into his voice. 

“Of course not, Your Highness,” he said. The two of them resumed their walk toward the squat stone building. “They sent me with an observer. I was to first deliver a warning, and if she failed to become more compliant I was to remove her from operation.” 

“And?”

“She bested me,” Hasimir admitted. This was a delicate balance. He needed to sell that he had tried to kill her without putting even more fear of Bene Gesserit into the Emperor. Luckily the Bene Gesserit would never volunteer the information that Margot had used The Voice on him. “It is harder to kill, my liege, than to flee.” 

“She did not kill you?” Shaddam asked, faint curiosity in his tone. Guards pulled open heavy doors in front of them, and both of them scanned the room with a quick and practiced eye. 

“The loyalty of a Bene Gesserit, once won, can be a powerful defense,” Hasimir said quietly. 

“Hm. Her blade?” Shaddam asked, jerking his head at Hasimir’s injuries. He sank into the chair behind his desk, lighting a suspensor lamp with a wave of one hand. 

“Another initiate,” Hasimir said dismissively. “A reminder from the Bene Gesserit that they do not tolerate failure lightly.” 

“So you failed me?” Shaddam asked, a dangerous edge to his tone. Hasimir blinked. 

“Certainly not,” he said, producing a scroll sealed with the Bene Gesserit crest. “I delivered their message and survived to tell them her response. I doubt they ever expected me to defeat her. Here is the information they promised in exchange.” 

Shaddam snatched it from his hand and Hasimir stepped back to allow him privacy to read it. Of course, he already knew what it said, but propriety held sway here on the court planet. 

“Duke Paulus Atreides has sent his heir to Ix,” Shaddam said, closing the scroll. “Interesting. There is unrest in many systems, the Tleilaxu are moving, and he sends him to another planet. Keep your ears open, Hasimir. Something is shifting.” 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Hasimir said, dropping into a proper bow as he left. The door closed behind him as a trickle of fresh blood ran down his spine. He let his gaze wander upward, catching a glint of light on a distant peak, and nodded once.

~ ~ ~ 

A few weeks after her arrival on Katain, Margot crept into one of the most heavily guarded rooms on the planet. She waited, running a hand over the delicate silk hangings around Shaddam’s four-poster bed. She noted small code-touches Hasimir and the security team had left, marking the room as safe, and carefully avoided them. 

Shaddam strode into the room, throwing the door shut behind him. His eyes swept the layout, missing her form behind the wooden carved post. 

“He is useless without me,” Margot said, enjoying the way the heir’s hand flew to the handle of his blade. She stepped out, padding across the cold wooden floor in bare feet. 

“How did you get in here?” Shaddam said, glancing at the door his guards waited behind. “If Hasimir thinks he can scare me-”

“Hasimir doesn’t know I’m here,” she interrupted, and noted the way his mouth tightened. Hasimir’s kowtowing had done its work - the Emperor’s heir did not like being spoken back to. “And he must not know, if you wish to continue using his services.” 

“You dare threaten my agent from within our walls?” Shaddam asked. She smiled, brushing a lock of golden hair behind her ear. 

“Threaten is such a harsh word,” she purred. “I merely meant that he would be obligated to attempt to fulfill his agreement with the Bene Gesserit. And he would not survive making a second attempt on my life, not so soon after sustaining such injuries.” 

“What do you want?” Shaddam asked, a mask dropping over his features. He remained standing where he was, occasionally scanning the room for threats. Well-trained, after all was said and done. His hand still rested on the handle of a kindjal she knew for a fact was coated in a particularly nasty poison. 

“I wanted to introduce you to someone,” Margot said. “I know my loss of position has affected you, and I wanted to remedy that.” 

“At what cost?” Shaddam asked, narrowing his eyes. She laughed. 

“For the cost of goodwill,” she said. “I thought you’d be familiar, now that the Major Houses have begun to send their Dukes and Barons to flatter you with gifts.” 

“I do not offer open-ended favors,” Shaddam said flatly. She let her shoulders fall slightly, but put on a smile. 

“Can’t blame a girl for trying,” she said. “How about this - I connect you with an active Bene Gesserit agent, and you call off your dog. As easily as I could defeat Hasimir in fair combat, it would be reckless to assume I would see him coming.” 

“The Bene Gesserit would not look kindly on him,” Shaddam warned. 

“What, you can’t protect your own pet?” she asked, amused. “Besides, you wouldn’t need him to retrieve their information once you’ve been introduced.” 

“I’ll think about it,” Shaddam said. “But the next time you break into my bedroom? You will not leave with your life.” He glanced significantly upward and she pretended to suddenly notice the small hole concealing a dart-thrower. 

“Very well,” she said, curtseying. “If you wish to reach me, have a servant hang a red carpet out the window to dry.” She turned and walked out to the balcony, springing up onto the rope concealed against the wall and clambering quickly out of view.

~ ~ ~

“Should I bring a Bene Gesserit into my employ?” Shaddam asked Hasimir one morning.

“Of course, that is Your Majesty’s decision,” Hasimir demurred cautiously, sipping at his coffee. “What brings this on, my liege?” 

“The information you have brought me since we lost Margot as a source has been declining in quality,” Shaddam said. Hasimir flinched, subtly but not below Shaddam’s ability to perceive. 

“That will be a temporary issue,” he said, pitching his voice to be ever-so-slightly defensive. “There is no need to add to your retinue to compensate.” 

“I didn’t ask what you wanted,” Shaddam said, annoyed. “I asked if I should do it.” 

“You are aware, my liege, that Bene Gesserit agents are deeply loyal to their institution and extremely dangerous,” Hasimir said.

“ Usually loyal,” Shaddam said. “After all, Margot seems to have turned against them.” Hasimir nodded slowly.

“As you say, my liege,” he agreed. “They do bring many benefits to a partnership. They are more socially clever than Mentats, and able to tell when someone is telling the truth or lying. It is possible to have a Bene Gesserit in your court watch those who are addressing you and subtly signal their true intent. The wide arms of the Bene Gesserit society gather information in many places, and access to that information is tightly guarded. They could be a help, certainly, though perhaps not the wisest choice of confidante.”

“If it is only danger that they present, I expect my Sardukar will be sufficient to counter it,” Shaddam said. Hasimir frowned at him. 

“In the height of Sardukar excellence, they were said to each be the equal of one Bene Gesserit initiate,” he said. “But the height of Sardukar excellence, Your Highness, is behind us. They grow soft with no wars to whet them and plenty of legends to dull their blade.”

One of the guards at the door shifted slightly and Shaddam sent them a withering look. They snapped back to attention. 

“Well, the numbers would still favor them,” he said.

“Then there is only one issue remaining,” Hasimir said. “There is no employing a Bene Gesserit. They serve only as wives and concubines, and will not take wages.” 

“Well,” Shaddam said thoughtfully. “I have reserved my hand for a strategic alliance. What could be more strategic than this?” He cast a stern look at where Hasimir sat beside him. “I am about to start enacting some long-term strategies. I need relevant information, or my objectives will be lost before I begin. You must support me in this.” 

“As you say,” Hasimir said. “Shall I contact the Sisterhood?”

“No need,” Shaddam said. “I have my own candidate in mind.”

Chapter 7: Chaumurky

10155 AG - Ix

 

Margot had leaned back on her bed, approximating a relaxed calm, when her long-range radio suddenly emitted a burst of sound. Without moving she picked apart the music, pulling back the layers in her memory until she found the code underneath. She decoded old-fashioned dits and dots into a simple message.

 

STAYING ON KATAIN STOP

SUCH BEAUTIFUL WEATHER STOP

WISH YOU WERE HERE END

 

‘Such beautiful weather’ was their code for something going terribly awry. It was meant to be single-use, so it should have been used in person where they could determine in the ensuing conversation what term would replace it in their secret language. Hasimir was desperate enough to be sloppy, which was alarming in and of itself. The ‘stop’ repeated through the message wasn’t necessary to create a logical order, making them part of the code. Two stops meant the Emperor was the target. 

“That fool,” she said, the first reaction of hers visible to an observer, and bolted for the door. 

It was a short run to the proper transmitting station, and she called the first Reverend Mother whose code she could recall from memory. 

“Who is this?” said Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam. 

“This is Margot Rashino-Zea,” she said. “I am calling to make a personal request. I wish to be wed, although I know on that path lies danger .” It felt almost soothing to use the mandatory call indicating danger. At least someone else knew.

“I see,” the Reverend Mother said. “This is a matter best discussed in person. We have a Guild charter near your location. I’ll have them bring you to us.” 

She passed the short time before the ship’s arrival by burning any inconvenient evidence and tossing a few of her more recognisable weapons out of airlocks. Still, she felt a nervous energy thrumming through her until she was stepping up to board the ship.

“Honored Guest,” a Guildsman said tonelessly, gesturing her to a padded couch. She barely had time to strap in before the world twisted and warped, the sky suddenly bursting into a swirl of stars and settling on a more familiar planet - Katain. They couldn’t seem to stay off this planet for long.

Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam met her at the door, sweeping her quickly into a meeting room. 

“What’s happened?” she asked tersely. 

“The Emperor will be dead by tonight,” she said. “Shaddam has made his move. I only just got word, I don’t know how the heir kept it from everyone.”

“Hasimir?” The Reverend Mother asked. She nodded. 

“He gave the location as Katain. We only had one-way contact, very briefly. I don’t have a lot of details.”

“Go,” the Reverend Mother said. “Get to the Emperor. I’ll send our agents to control the hallways so that no word from either side gets out. We save the Emperor if we can, but if he is lost we will support Shaddam and lock the city down.” 

“Understood,” Margot said, and stalked out into the old stone tunnels once more. 

~ ~ ~

“Father!” Shaddam called, sweeping into the Imperial War Room. Hasimir, a half-step behind him, noted the light on the poison sniffer over the doorway blinking off at the moment of their entrance. “I have wonderful news!” 

The Emperor, clad in beautiful red and gold robes, glanced up from the maps on the table he was examining. Around him, a handful of his advisors were gathered. 

“I was not informed of your arrival,” the Emperor said, brow furrowed. “What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” 

Shaddam whipped a semi-translucent sheet out of a small bag he was carrying and set it down on top of the maps.

Something strange was going on, that was for certain. It had been years since Shaddam had kept a major action secret from Hasimir. Behind them, Anirul Corrino, Shaddam’s new Bene Gesserit wife, smiled serenely. A quick flutter of her fingers asked Hasimir if he knew what was happening, and he twitched his thumb to indicate his confusion. 

“An ultrasound,” the Emperor said slowly. Hasimir stiffened. He knew that Anirul was pregnant, but she was under strict orders to bear only daughters. If she had disobeyed the Bene Gesserit and the child was male, that would explain Shaddam’s wild enthusiasm. He didn’t dare glance back at her now, though, with so many players in the room. 

“An heir!” Shaddam crowed, pride dripping from his tone. He pulled a bottle of wine out of his bag and set it on the table. 

“I propose a toast,” he decreed. “To the future of House Corrino!” The Emperor nodded, and various servants scattered to retrieve glasses. 

“Well done, my son,” he said, almost warmly. “I had my doubts about this new wife of yours, but securing the line for another generation is no small feat.” Shaddam snapped his fingers and Hasimir was at his side in an instant. 

“My liege?” he asked. Shaddam tilted his head at the bottle of wine, and Hasimir began to pour it into the glasses provided. 

“He is healthy?” the Emperor asked, peering at the ultrasound. 

“Definitively,” Shaddam said, accepting the first glass. Hasimir bowed low as he offered the second glass to the Emperor, but as he moved to pull away the older man’s hand seized his shirt. He froze obligingly. 

“Drink,” the Emperor said, handing the glass of wine back to Hasimir. Shaddam laughed. 

“You’re too paranoid, Father,” he said. Hasimir lifted the glass and drank two large swallows. “Besides, the poison sniffer would have detected anything he came in with.” Hasimir handed the glass back, bowing his head respectfully. 

“Hmmph,” the Emperor said. “When you are in my position, you’ll learn to be just as paranoid.” He drained the rest of his wine and bent over the ultrasound. 

“A strong figure,” he said approvingly. He glanced at Anirul. “You did well.” 

Hasimir served the last glass of wine to the last advisor, his hands shaking almost enough to be noticed. Sweat ran down his temple, matting his hair to his head. Whatever Shaddam had dosed the wine with was strong, and he was having a hard time isolating it in his system. 

“To the future!” Shaddam called, and the various advisors to the Emperor echoed his call. They all began to drink, except Shaddam who only lifted his glass to his mouth. 

“You-“ the Emperor started. The world pitched suddenly around Hasimir and he fell to the ground, bottle smashing on the stone floor. The last thing he heard was the gurgling sound of death around him before he turned his attention inward to isolate and convert the last of the poison. 

~ ~ ~

The Sardukar at the gates to the Imperial War Room were dead by the time Margot got there. The Bene Gesserit must have had agents very close to respond this quickly. She slipped through the large doors into a stark scene. 

“My love,” Anirul said, head bowed. Shaddam had his kindjal drawn, blade pointed at her. “How could I have warned them? I did not know the plan myself until they began to die.” At the table, the Emperor and his close advisors were slumped over, froth at the corners of their mouths. Two Bene Gesserit Sisters were standing in the room, blood dripping from their blades. 

Dead , one of them signed at her. Chaumurky . 

Margot glanced down and blinked once, the only reaction she allowed herself. Lying on the ground, face-down, Hasimir was breathing shallowly. A wine bottle was smashed underneath his right hand, which was bleeding sluggishly from several cuts. 

“You can trust me,” Anirul continued softly. “Your Highness, the Emperor.” She dropped to one knee. “I bear your daughter, my liege, as you know. I have never questioned you or failed you.” The room was quiet for a moment. Margot calculated the likelihood she could kill Shaddam before he could kill Anirul, though she knew the other Sisters would stop her from interfering. 

“I believe you,” Shaddam said at last. He lowered his blade. “The Bene Gesserit has many eyes here on Katain. Perhaps we will move our court elsewhere.” His gaze scanned the room, flickering across the two Bene Gesserit Sisters and Margot. 

“The guards?” he asked. 

“Dead,” the first Sister replied. “As are all witnesses who saw you arrive here today. The path to your ship has been cleared. We humbly suggest you leave. Quickly.” 

The Bene Gesserit had picked a side, then. 

“One moment,” Shaddam said, and walked to Hasimir. He gently rolled him over by one shoulder, showing his face pale and clammy but not frothing like the others. 

“Sister Margot,” Shaddam said. She darted to him, heedlessly kneeling amongst the broken glass. “What’s wrong with him?” he asked under his breath. Between them, Hasimir took a raspy breath. 

“He is struggling to isolate and change the poison,” she said. “He has not had full training in this area, as I have not completed my own.” 

“He knew it was poisoned,” Shaddam said. “I saw it in his manner. But he did not hesitate. It is why I chose him.” 

“He needs rest, Your Majesty,” she said. “If you wish him to recover.” 

“Very well,” Shaddam obliged. “Take him. When he awakens, tell him he is to be the Lord of House Fenring.” 

One of the Sisters stepped forward. 

“Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam sends a message,” she said. “Assuming the Lord survives, your request is granted.” Margot, distracted by lifting Hasimir in her arms, was confused for a few precious seconds. Then the import of her earlier coded message sank in. 

“You are to marry Lord Fenring,” the Sister said.

Chapter 8: Honeymoon

Hasimir awoke with a gasp, shivering in even the warm summer air. Margot caught his shoulder as he tried to sit up. 

“Wait,” she said, and he slumped back onto the bed. “Give it a moment. The antidote is still taking effect.”

“He had… accomplice,” Hasimir gasped, struggling for breath. “Turned off… poison snooper.” 

“Yes,” she replied in their code, keeping pressure on his shoulder. “One of the heads of a Minor House that he had known for years. The whole assassination has been pinned on him, since his involvement with the poison snooper has been discovered.” 

“…Which?” Hasimir asked, falling into code as well. 

“Lord Theron Fenring,” she said. Hasimir’s pale grey eyes darted back and forth as he slotted the new information into its spot. The Mentat training he had received, and since passed onto her, was linking together the data. She knew his next question before he did. 

“Who-?” he asked, and she nodded. 

“Shaddam named you as his successor, if you were to survive. He made a flowery statement about the best of a House surviving the treachery of its worst. I suspect Anirul wrote it.”

Finally, Hasimir began to relax under her hand. 

“I drank from the Emperor’s glass,” he said at last. His breathing was beginning to level out as the antidote removed the last traces of poison. 

“That was an error, my dear,” she said. He nodded jerkily. 

“So I see,” he said. “I overestimated my ability to neutralize the poison.” 

“Did you?” Margot asked. “Or did you trust Shaddam to use a poison you would be able to survive?” Hasimir lowered his gaze, answer enough between the two of them. 

“You did well at slowing your metabolism and isolating the poison,” Margot admitted. “But you failed to deconstruct it or render it harmless. We will have to work on that.” He nodded, swallowing hard. 

“What now?” he asked, glancing around. “We are not on Kaitain. I hear an ocean.” 

“Indeed,” Margot said, and let a flicker of amusement cross her expression. “We are on our honeymoon.” Hasimir, wary of her amusement, had locked down his expression. But she knew him well enough to sense his surprise regardless.

“Bene Gesserit influence?” he asked. She laughed. 

“Is it so out of the realm of possibility I wish to formalize our partnership?” she asked. He gave her an unimpressed look. 

“A formalized partnership does more harm than good,” he pointed out. “Now we will be known to be partners. We lose anonymity.”

“You’d be surprised,” Margot said. “Most, if not all men with Bene Gesserit wives do not consider them partners at all.”

“More fools them,” Hasimir said. He tried again to sit up and this time she allowed the motion. “How long has it been?” 

“Weeks,” she said. “Much has changed. As I said, you have the Emperor’s loyalty and charge of a Minor House. There was an attack on Ix. And we are on Caladan to prepare it for the arrival of Jessica, who is to be the grandmother of the Kwisatz Haderach.”

“Weeks?” Hasimir asked. “It felt like only hours.” 

“The antidote was a long time coming,” she said, the brimming rage she’d been suppressing tinting the edges of the phrase with malice. “And that state I taught you to enter, the turned-inward state, warps your perception of time.” He nodded, accepting her teaching as fact.

“You should eat,” she continued, nodding at a platter of food. “We have much work to do here.” 

“What a lovely place for a honeymoon,” Hasimir said, finally dropping out of their code. He reached for the platter and took a honey-drenched bun. 

“Isn’t it?” she replied. “And there are so many things to do here. When you are feeling stronger, perhaps we will ride on a sailboat or visit the markets in the city.”

“Whatever you prefer,” he said, even as she handed him back his sheathed kindjal under the pillow on the bed. “I’ll follow you.” She watched him with flinty eyes for a moment. Then she spoke in their coded language once more.  

“I was afraid you were not going to follow,” she admitted. “It seemed you would never wake up.” 

He let his surprise show on his face, a vulnerability in turn. It was not like either of them to admit such things freely, even in code. 

“Perhaps this marriage will benefit us, then,” he replied. “We can keep a closer eye on each other’s backs.” Gingerly, he slid to the edge of the bed and stood.

She watched him walk to the bathroom, shakily finding his footing, and close the door. A second later, a blast of water arced across the bathroom and splattered on the far wall. Hasimir opened the door, water dripping from his drenched face and damp hair. 

“My dear,” he said pleasantly. “Did you booby-trap the sink?” She started to chuckle. 

“We really have to get your training up to par,” she said. He had started to turn back when something occurred to him. 

“Do the other Bene Gesserit know that I was trained, then?” he asked. “If they saw me isolating the poison?” 

“Yes and no,” she said. “They assume your only training has come from me.”

“Ah,” he said. With the back of his hand, he wiped water from his forehead. “Then I suppose I best improve my performance, lest you be thought a poor teacher.” 

As he bathed and got dressed, Margot casually wandered over to a cabinet and changed a bandage on her wrist. She wasn’t quite fast enough, and he reappeared as she finished wrapping. 

“Hm-m-m,” he said wryly. “The sink was revenge. You found my toy.”

She had indeed, in the midst of trying to settle his limp form onto the shuttle they’d used to escape. He’d hidden a spring-loaded blade under his shield-belt, and in trying to remove it she’d gotten a decent slash. 

“Nasty little trap,” she admitted, begrudgingly admiring. He laughed, reaching for his shield-belt and blades. 

“A final measure from, most likely, beyond the grave,” he said. “I should hate for anyone to profit from my death.” 

“I suppose we’ll just have to survive, then,” Margot said. She finished tucking the bandage into her sleeve and nodded at the door. “Shall we?”

Chapter 9: Wine-Dark Seas

10156 AG - Katain

“What happened, Shaddam?” Hasimir asked. His tone was light, but his eyes were deadly serious. “We had executed my plan. All you needed to do was wait a few years for the poison to complete its work and the throne would have been yours.” Shaddam blanched, glancing around. Hasimir waved a hand dismissively. 

“There are no listening devices, no treachery,” he said. “I just want an answer.”

“You are being… very direct,” Shaddam said cautiously. 

“Do you understand how close you came to killing me?” Hasimir replied, low and dangerous. “I work for you, as always, but you used me like a disposable tool. Whose advice caused you to throw me away so heedlessly?”

“I cannot say,” Shaddam said, taking a step forward. “I will not. But I have missed you at my side. Let us call it impatience, not to be repeated.” 

“As you wish,” Hasimir said with a bow. “But some mistakes cannot be made twice.” 

Interesting, Hasimir thought. I do believe that Anirul pulled his strings there. The scene of him threatening to kill her must have been staged for Margot’s benefit. I wonder if the Sisterhood knows.

“We plan to return to Caladan,” he said aloud. “We have some tasks to complete there for a while. Of course, if you require my counsel, you need only summon me.” 

“Understood,” Shaddam said. He waited until Hasimir’s hand was on the door before he blurted out a final comment. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Old friend.” 

 

10160 AG - Caladan

Caladan seemed different than how Leto had left it. He wasn’t sure if the rising political tensions had changed it, or if he’d simply come back from Ix so changed himself. At eighteen, now, he wasn’t sure who he had become.

He was standing at the edge of a party in Castle Caladan, watching the sea through a set of double windows. 

“It looks different from inside, doesn’t it?” a woman said from behind him. He’d heard her approaching, her dress shoes loud against the wooden floors. He turned, politely, to greet her. 

She was stunningly beautiful, clad in a green dress with silver trim that brought out the green of her eyes. She had shoulder-length blonde hair, perfectly curled, and sparkling silver shoes to match. He had also never seen her before, which was unusual for an Atreides ball. 

“It does, My Lady,” he said, giving her a polite nod. He would have heard if anyone outranking him would be here tonight, so he didn’t need to bow. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure we’ve been introduced..?” 

“Lady Margot Fenring, at your service,” she said, curtsying respectfully. “I was admiring the sea earlier this evening, and I commented on how the smell of the breeze seems to, um-m-m, complete the scene.” 

“It surely does,” Leto said, turning back to the window. He expected her to wander off and find a more sociable companion, but she stayed where she was. He glanced over, but she was gazing past him to the horizon. “What do you think about, hm-m-m, Honorable Duke, when you watch the dark sea?” she asked, her voice quiet and solemn. 

He shifted his weight uncomfortably and she blinked as if coming out of a reverie.

“Ah-h-h-h, my apologies,” she said nervously, dropping into a low bow. “I have offended you.” 

“No,” he soothed, holding up a hand. “Not at all. It was an interesting question. I was simply considering it.” He looked back to the churning sea outside. “I think of my father, and his approach to leadership.” 

“I have heard many great things of the former Duke,” Margot said. “His strength, his kindness to the people here, his directness.” Leto gave a humorless bark of laughter. 

“Great things,” he said. “You should have been here to tell my mother.”

“Oh?” Margot asked, her voice eminently gentle and reasonable. “Why?” He couldn’t speak it above a whisper. 

“She had him killed for his kindness, to preserve our image.” 

“Is that why you banished her?” Margot asked. He nodded once, still feeling strange and far away. 

“It seems a lonely thing, um-m-m, the sea,” she said. She reached slowly for his shoulder, carefully nonthreatening, and squeezed it reassuringly. 

“My Lady,” a familiar voice broke in. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Now Leto truly broke his attention from the dark horizon. 

“Thufir,” he said warmly. “I didn’t expect you to join us at this party. This is Lady Margot Fenring.” 

“Delighted,” Thufir said dryly. “I just had the most interesting conversation with your husband, my Lady.” He cast his eyes across the room, indicating a thin man in a dark suit who was leaning against the opposite wall. He noted their attention and nodded politely. Leto noticed that he didn’t seem bothered that his wife was engaging so affectionately with a Duke. 

“I’m so, um-m-m, glad,” Lady Fenring said. Her lilting voice almost made the pauses in her speech sound lyrical. “We both wish to meet some of the delightful, ah-h-h, individuals here.” She gestured with one hand and her husband began to approach.

“What do you see on the horizon, My Lady?” Leto asked. “If I may be so bold?” Thufir shot him a warning glance, which he ignored. She let her gaze drift to the window, one hand coming up to rest on her collarbone. 

“I see turmoil,” she said softly. “Powerful chaos, water crashing against itself. I see the flickering beam of the lighthouse, casting a narrow path through the dark.” A figure stepped up beside her and Leto let out a breath he hadn’t been aware he was holding.

“My husband, Lord Hasimir Fenring,” she said without turning. “Hasimir, meet Duke Leto. And I believe you’ve, hm-m-m, met Thufir Hawat.” Hasimir dropped into a low bow, rising with an easy smile. A Lord of a Minor House was still outranked by Leto’s new position. But he’d heard something recently about House Fenring. He looked to Thufir.

“How lucky that House Fenring had a capable leader available,” Thufir said. “After that nasty assassination business.” Oh, yes. The former Lord of that House had been the one who was accused of assassinating the Emperor while all of the business on Ix had been happening. His execution had been just before Leto headed back to Caladan. How had he forgotten that? His head felt fuzzy.

“Yes, um-m, very lucky,” Hasimir said, without apparent offense or concern. “Are we, um-m-m, interrupting, my dear?” They both seemed to stammer in the same oddly melodic way. It was faintly distracting and Leto wondered if one of them had picked it up from the other. 

“Not at all,” Margot said. She was very close to Leto, wasn’t she? He could smell the delicate perfume she was wearing. “We were just discussing the sea.” 

“How, hm-m-m, poetic,” Hasimir said. “My friend, are you sure you do not wish to continue our earlier conversation? You had such, um-m-m, specific insights into Guild capabilities.”

“No, I fear I have neglected my Duke for long enough,” Thufir said, a warning in his tone. Leto wondered at it. It was hardly like Thufir to get involved in his social affairs, much less to respond so aggressively to the friendly advances of a Minor House. But the warrior Mentat was rarely wrong. 

“I apologize,” he said with a half-bow. “I must check in on my other guests. Please enjoy the sea view.” The Lord and Lady bowed politely to him as he left, Thufir a shadow at his side. He glanced back once to see them standing at the window, not touching. Margot saw him looking and gave him a slow smile. 

“What was that about, Thufir?” Leto asked, once they’d ducked inside a nearby cone of silence.

“That was about the most dangerous conversation you could have wandered into,” Thufir snapped. “Do you read the briefs I give you, my Duke?” Leto flushed at the directness of Thufir’s manner and then wondered at himself. Had he already forgotten the permissiveness of his father? 

“I’m sorry, Thufir,” he said. “Please, enlighten me.” 

“Hasimir Fenring is commonly known to be the Emperor’s errand boy,” Thufir said. “One can assume such a title is earned for more than simple deliveries. And his wife is Bene Gesserit, trained to manipulate and investigate. What did the two of you talk about?” 

“Just the sea,” Leto said, slightly nervous. “My father.” A dawning horror crept into his mind. “My mother. Thufir, I told her she’d killed him.” Thufir sighed. 

“She is a master of manipulation,” he admitted at last. “We must find out why they are here. And how long they’ve been on Caladan. But we should do so cautiously. Give nothing else away. And for gods’ sakes, do not flirt with her!” 

But by the time they got back to the window, the Lady and her Lord were gone. No one else at the party remembered seeing them at all. Leto paced uneasily as Hawat searched, finally returning his gaze to the crashing of the waves. 

Chapter 10: Arrakis

10160 AG - Arrakis

Hasimir woke early, the stinging desert sun creeping its way into their bedroom regardless of the heavy curtains on the windows. Margot was awake, leaned back against the headboard and flipping through files. 

“Anything interesting on the agenda?” he asked with a yawn. Neither of them were yet accustomed to the desert planet, but after a few months of concerted effort their network was finally beginning to grow. 

“I’m meeting with a Freman source,” she said casually, standing now that he was awake and beginning to pull on a stillsuit. “The Harkonnen spice haulers have a weak point, and I’ll trade that for information on the missing Sisters.” 

“Interesting,” Hasimir mused. “Displeasure with the Harkonnens seems to be everywhere. Several smugglers are coming today to bring me overflight reports of Harkonnen activities.” 

“They’re squeezing too hard,” Margot agreed. “And for what? They aren’t exporting even half of the Spice they collect.” 

“Still building their stockpile, you think?” Hasimir theorised. He unsealed a cup kept next to the bed and sipped at the water inside. Even a glass of water indoors could not be allowed to evaporate on this dry planet. Luckily their little Imperial Observer base was much less public than the Harkonnen stronghold, so they weren’t obliged to waste water to make a point with the population. 

“We should know shortly,” Margot said, finishing the last of the seals on her suit. It was Fremen-made, battered enough to not stand out in a crowd. She covered her distinctive hair with a coarse cloth, and checked that her paracompass was firmly attached to her sleeve. 

“I’ll be back in two days, unless a sand worm eats me.” Hasimir blinked at her, unphased. 

“That would be a waste,” he said. “Think of how much poison you’re carrying. You’d kill the thing.” She casually threw a dagger at him and he dodged, laughing. 

“Be safe,” he added as she reached the door. She turned back and gave him a fierce grin. “And good hunting.”

Hasimir spent the morning in interesting pursuits - reviewing reports from his spies in the Harkonnen strongholds and reading old messages from Kynes, the missing planetologist.

Around mid-day, he took a slow walk around their compound and removed the half-dozen new listening devices that Harkonnen spies had installed. He destroyed five of them and stored the sixth in a sound-proof box in case they wanted to use it later. 

As he slid the box onto a shelf, their Mentat head of security Maris Rulon appeared at his side. 

“I need to speak with you, my Lord,” he said in a low voice, pitched so as not to carry. Hasimir observed his nervous stance and rapid breathing with mild curiosity. 

“Hm-m-m, of course,” he said. “Here, or..?”

“Follow me,” Maris said, swiftly leading him to the main security office. His office was quiet and still, with no guards inside the door. Hasimir shifted his wrist so that a poison dagger rested just against his hand.  

“What’s, ah-h-hm-m, the matter, lad?” Hasimir asked, raising one eyebrow. “You seem quite, uh-h, distraught.” 

“Lady Fenring means to kill you, sir,” Maris said bluntly, taking a gulp of Sapho juice to focus his mind. A blood-red drop ran down his chin.

“That’s, ah-h, quite the accusation,” Hasimir said, and smiled dangerously. “Do you have, hm-m-m, any evidence?” 

“Yes, here,” Maris said urgently, pulling a folder from a drawer and opening it on the table. “See, here is a photo of her meeting with the Harkonnen who ordered it. And the amount withdrawn from your accounts to pay for the poison. You can see-“ he cut off with a sharp gasp as he stumbled into the table, one of Hasimir’s poison daggers in his back. “What- why?” he choked out.  “The photos… they are genuine!” 

“They are,” Hasimir said apologetically. “Unfortunately, I am not to discover this assassination plan for another week. Anything else could convince the Harkonnens that my wife betrayed them, which can’t happen.” 

He stepped forward calmly and retrieved his dagger, wiping the blood off on a cloth. Maris collapsed and Hasimir sighed, looking at the blood spreading across the floor. “I suppose I’ll have to bribe the cleaning staff again,” he mused. He went through the Mentat’s pockets, finding a coded note and an unused money order. Tucking those away, he hefted Maris’s muscular frame over one of his wiry shoulders. 

Hopefully the death of their secondary agent within the Fenring household wouldn’t cause too much unease for the young Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. It was proving an entertaining challenge to stay ahead of the Harkonnen’s twisted Mentat, Piter de Vries. Still, his Harkonnen association meant that most inhabitants of Dune would not speak to him. Without data, the Mentat was hobbled. 

Hasimir dropped the body into a waste-recycling chamber and changed into clothes that were not splattered with blood. He sent a quick, coded report to Shaddam that he’d had to eliminate another Harkonnen agent. He requested a new Mentat, ideally with minimal security training. 

The coded note was undoubtedly from Piter, though it would take him time to break the encryption. He tucked it away in a secret compartment instead. Margot had the better head for codes, if only because she hated the thought of being bested by the author.

He met with the smugglers, providing them with a large feast and plenty of water as they delivered their reports on Harkonnen spice gathering. The highlight of this collection was a video of a spice blow destroying a major collector as a small ornithopter, seemingly containing the Baron himself, hovered overhead. 

As the day crept into night, Hasimir walked down to the training range. He wouldn’t sleep tonight, as was their custom when one of them was away. When they both were at home, one of them would sleep deeply and one lightly, in case of assassination attempts. At this point, those were occurring quite frequently. Shaddam would sigh in exasperation and send another strongly worded message to the Harkonnens, no doubt, but without an alternate form of Spice the Harkonnens had power and they knew it. 

Hasimir passed the hours throwing knives and using dart-throwers, amusing himself by introducing challenges like closing his eyes or hanging from the ceiling. As the sun began to rise again, he wiped blood from his stinging hands. This was one of the contributions Margot had made to his collection of tricks. He ran a sealer over his ragged scrapes, accelerating their healing. Then he took a small jar down from a shelf and spread the low-concentration acid across his palms. The calluses his body had begun to form dissolved with a faint burning sensation, leaving him with soft hands that seemed to indicate he had never used the weapons before.

One more day before Margot was set to return. Hasimir would have breakfast and then concoct a false trail, indicating that Maris had betrayed the Harkonnens and fled into the desert. West, of course, so as not to send any hunting parties toward the sietch of Freman that Margot was visiting. Hopefully that would be enough that they would move forward with Margot’s proposed plan to poison him.

It was a busy time to be an Imperial Observer on Dune. But the Fenrings had a suspicion that the situation here was on the verge of becoming something even more complex. They intended to be ready. 

Chapter 11: Fool Me Once

“Welcome back, Lord Fenring,” a voice said, sardonic and cruel. Hasimir, who’d actually awoken several minutes prior, blinked his eyes open blearily. 

“Where am I?” he asked, jerking one wrist experimentally against his bindings. Cold steel bit into flesh and he exaggerated a wince. Usually he let his marks think they were working to uncover his emotions, but Baron Vladimir Harkonnen had a tendency to get easily distracted by pain. He could practically see the young man’s pupils dialating as he crept closer. 

“Where are you?” the Baron scoffed. “Tell him, Piter.” Another man moved forward, quieter and more controlled. Where the Baron was tall and muscular, Piter was delicate - almost frail. Hasimir noted with interest the beginnings of a blue sheen to his eyes. So the Harkonnen Mentat was going local? To show signs this soon, the man must have a heavy addiction to Spice. 

“How did I, hm-m-m, get here?” Hasimir asked, and Margot stepped out of the shadows to the side. He repressed a sardonic smile at her appearance. She had taken easily to the drama the Baron demanded, though he thought her shadowy waiting place was perhaps a touch heavy-handed. 

“The consequences of your trust in a Bene Gesserit,” the Baron crowed. “You were good, Fenring, I’ll give you that. Took out several of my more promising agents. But Piter sniffed out your weakness right away.” 

“I’m a, um-m-m, Imperial agent,” Hasimir said nervously. “You cannot, ah-h-h, threaten me, no matter who has betrayed me.” The last he said with a notable glance at Margot. 

“The spice must flow - at any cost,” Piter called in a menacing sing-song. He crept closer, a needle tucked against one of his crimson gloves. “Even the Emperor understands that.” 

“Um-m-m, surely we can come to some sort of agreement?” Hasimir said, eyeing Piter’s approach. 

“This poison won’t kill you,” the Baron said. He sounded gleeful about this fact. “No, it will simply settle into your flesh. You’ll survive, provided you receive the antidote at regular intervals.” 

“You wish me to, hm-m-m, serve as your agent?” Hasimir said. Behind Piter, Margot flickered her fingers through rapid sign. 

It’s the same poison we trained with , she indicated. That had been the trickiest part of their plan. Had the Harkonnens done something unexpected, he and Margot would have had to fight their way out. Messy, and the Emperor would not approve. But things continued according to plan. 

“If you’re so clever,” the Baron said. “What do you think we want?” Hasimir glanced over the body language of the Harkonnen and his Mentat. With a curl of a smile, he dropped his mask of fear. 

“I think you know exactly how useful I’d be as an agent,” he said calmly. “You know I have the Emperor’s ear, and you’ve been poorly concealing your siphoning from the Spice trade here. The alliance you have with the Bene Gesserit is tenuous at best, and you don’t truly trust Margot.”

“That’s true,” the Baron said. “In fact, we’d sent our man Maris to try and turn you against each other, though it seems his warning never arrived.” 

“Accidents happen in the desert,” Margot said, her voice light and cheerful. Piter smiled, wide enough to crack his chapped lips. He was worth watching, Hasimir thought. Easily manipulated, which is probably what the Baron had seen in him. 

“Dose him,” the Baron said with a dismissive flick of his hand. Piter closed the distance in a flash, sinking the needle into Hasimir’s chest. The initial red-hot sting faded out into a dull throbbing as the poison began to disperse. 

“We will send you coded messages,” the Baron said. “You will only know exactly what you need to know to complete your missions. If you fulfill them, you will continue to receive the antidote. If you do not, or if you go to a Suk doctor, or try any other method of circumventing our control, we will never deliver another dose.”

“I understand,” Hasimir said coldly. “I won’t forget this, Harkonnen.” 

“I would hope not,” the Baron said with a sneer. “Today is the day I bested you.” 

~ ~ ~

A few hours after they arrived back at their home in Arrakis, they finally managed to shake Harkonnen observation.

“How goes it?” Margot asked in code, setting a hand on his shaking shoulder. 

“Nearly done,” Hasimir replied. His teeth weren’t gritted, nor were his muscles clenched. He simply couldn’t spare the energy to counter the trembling the poison was inducing. “Next time, it’s your turn to be poisoned.”

“Undoubtedly,” Margot agreed. “I’m much better at it than you are.” The first dose of antidote sat on the table between them, unused. 

“Did you manage to reach her?” Hasimir asked. With the rest of his focus, he shifted a few carbon atoms just so and the last of the Harkonnen poison in his system dissipated. 

“Not yet,” Margot said. “She and Leto are both understandably wary of outside communication. We may have to do this in person.” 

“Could we arrange for that much time away without drawing the suspicion of our new ‘masters’?” Hasimir asked. He considered the antidote for a moment before driving the needle into his leg. It was possible they’d check if he had needle marks when he returned. 

“I think so,” Margot said. “We can frame it as a temporary recall to support the Emperor. Make the two of them remember the size of the prize they’ve caught.” She waved a hand at him in illustration. 

“You say the nicest things,” he said dryly, and she laughed. 

“The main issue will be keeping Leto from recognising us,” she continued. “With disguises we may pass his scrutiny, but the Mentat Thufir Hawat is still in his employment.” 

“That does complicate matters,” Hasimir agreed. “But the message we carry will be doubted from any intermediary. You’re certain Jessica will recognise you as the one who warned her of the Duke’s mother before her deployment?”

“Certainty is for Mentats,” Margot said. “But it is likely. I spoke to her directly, though she did not know my name.”

“Hopefully, she never will,” Hasimir said. “The less trace we leave in this mess, the better. When do we leave?” 

“In an hour,” Margot said. When he made to stand up from the table she shook her head. “I packed for you.” 

“You weren’t certain I’d shake the poison so quickly?” Hasimir asked, raising an eyebrow. She scoffed. 

“No, you just take forever picking out your blades,” she said. “I don’t want the Guild to revoke our shipping privileges because we’re late.” 

Chapter 12: Contacts and Context

Lady Jessica awoke in her chambers on Caladan, stretching in the early morning sun. The bed beside her was empty and chilled, so Leto was already up for the day.

She rose from the bed, dressing for the day and splashing water on her face. As she opened the window, hoping for the fresh salty air and crashing of the sea, a raven glided through. She considered it for a moment. Seemingly unconcerned, it croaked once and hopped toward her. On its leg, a small scroll was tied with ribbon. 

Jessica had gotten one other message in this way, right when she arrived on Caladan to be gifted to Leto by the Sisterhood. It had warned her that Leto’s father had been betrayed by his wife, who had dosed the bull that killed him. Knowing this, she was to proceed cautiously with Leto and offer more honesty than was usual for a Bene Gesserit partner, in order to distance herself from any harmful associations. 

“Who sent you?” she mused to the crow. She leaned forward cautiously, checking the message for any obvious signs of tampering or danger. Finding none, she unfurled the message. 

Danger imminent. Contact soon to provide full warning. 113/47/228. 

Subtle dot code on the back of the message revealed the true meeting location, so the numbers on the front were a fabrication in case the message was intercepted. She burned the message, tossed the now disgruntled crow back out the window, and sat down to think.

She had an hour before the meeting time. Thufir would undoubtedly want to know that this meeting was happening, and could secure the meeting place preemptively. But the Mentat’s loyalty was to his Duke, not to her. Perhaps it would be wiser not to give him any information until she knew the information her contact was going to provide. 

She settled for a compromise. 

“Thufir,” she called as she strode into the main hall. He turned from his conversation with Gurney and bowed respectfully. “Randomize our security patrols and watch for any distress signals. I have had a warning, though it was vague.” 

“Can you provide me with any more information?” Thufir asked, already sending away two of the nearby soldiers with a wave. 

“I cannot,” she said. He nodded in understanding. 

“Very well,” he said. “Consider it done.” 

Jessica ate breakfast, trying to force herself to focus on the taste of the food and not the relentless passage of time. When she was convinced she’d given an unhurried performance, she retired to her chambers and pulled out a small notebook. 

Went to meet a contact at the southwest balcony, third floor , she wrote in the Atreides battle language. If you are reading this, the meeting did not go to plan.

She slid the note under Leto’s pillow and frowned. Too many unknowns, but if a Bene Gesserit contact said there was danger then danger there was certain to be. She could not risk the information.

She briefly amused herself with the concept of the agent being caught unaware by the change in security, picturing a disgruntled Reverend Mother sitting in Thufir’s cells. Then, as the clock struck ten, she headed to the appointed place. 

As she approached, she caught sight of a woman sitting on a wooden chair and watching the sea. She was dressed demurely, more like a member of the castle staff than like a visiting noble. Her blonde hair was tightly pulled back underneath a loose blue scarf. As Jessica observed her, she flickered her fingers in a Bene Gesserit point-of-contact greeting. Jessica walked forward cautiously, taking the seat next to her. The woman had both hands flat against her thighs, showing Jessica she was holding no weapons. 

“You increased security,” she said. Her voice was calm and measured. 

“Of course,” Jessica said. The mysterious woman inclined her head in understanding. “What is the information you have brought me?”

“This information cannot be shared,” the woman warned. “Not with your Duke and not with your son. It was acquired at great risk, and our agent is still in danger.” 

“I have a duty to Leto,” Jessica said sharply. The woman shook her head. 

“This is not an immediate threat. You can make subtle preparations to reduce it. But if you are seen to make obvious preparations, such as your Duke might order, we will lose the ability to help you.” Jessica considered her options, and then reluctantly nodded. 

“Leto Atreides is growing in popularity,” the woman said, lowering her voice even further. “His Swordmaster and Master of Assassins train a formidable fighting force. The Emperor has noticed his rising fortunes with some concern.” Now Jessica understood her contact’s vehemence. Sources near the emperor were few and very dear. 

“Does the Emperor intend to move directly?” Jessica breathed. Surely he wouldn’t send Sardukar - but then her mind went to Ix, and the eventual destruction of House Vernius. The Imperium had dabbled in the destruction of Great Houses before. 

“Not yet,” her contact said. “He has- send him away!” With this sudden cry, the woman leapt in a single motion over the banister of the balcony and plummeted from view. Jessica sat frozen for an instant before turning to face approaching footsteps. 

“My Lady?” asked Thufir. “I thought I heard voices. Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine, Thufir,” she said with forced calm. Below this balcony, a hundred foot drop to jagged stones and crashing waves awaited. “Please, would you check on the Duke?” 

“Of course, my Lady,” Thufir said with a bow. As soon as he vanished from view, Jessica flew to the edge of the balcony and stared down. A floor below her, her contact was hanging by one hand, dress fluttering in the sea breeze. A man was leaned out of the window there, his grip white-knuckled around her wrist. He was lean and dark-haired. He didn’t look up, so she couldn’t see his face, but his posture was tight with suppressed concern. 

“-am perfectly fine, thank you,” she could hear the woman saying as she managed to wedge her feet into some of the cracks on the outer wall.

Jessica stepped away, walking calmly but quickly toward a staircase. A servant almost called out to her as she passed, but caught the look on her face and turned meekly away. Of course she recalled the layout of the castle perfectly, so a moment later she burst into the room exactly one floor below. She entered just as her contact managed to clamber back in through the window. The man had his back to her at the moment she entered, though he whirled to face her as the door clicked shut. She didn’t recognise him either, his face unremarkable except for a mildly unpleasant narrowness to his features and dark brown eyes. 

“I thought you were Bene Gesserit,” she said sharply, addressing her contact. At the same time, she flicked a message in the less common Bene Gesserit battle sign. 

“I am just a friend,” her contact said, returning the code-phrase correctly. Jessica frowned. 

“Who is this, then?” she asked, glaring at the man. He dipped his head apologetically, backing up a step. 

“My husband,” her contact said, sounding exasperated. Jessica frowned, imagining Leto trailing along behind her on an information-gathering mission. 

“Why?” she asked. She caught a momentary flicker of emotion across the man’s face - not injured pride, but something else. Amusement, perhaps?

“Well, he did catch me,” her contact said wryly. “Now, shall I finish debriefing you or would you like to examine our genetic record?” Jessica flushed slightly and waved a hand in permission. 

“As I was saying, the Emperor has a secondary problem - spice flow has once again become erratic. The Harkonnens grow complacent with their role on Arrakis.” Jessica’s mind went still as she turned it to contemplating the outcomes. She was no Mentat, but to be offered these two pieces of information together made many of the connections apparent. 

“You think he intends to send us to Arrakis?” she asked.

“He would either have the resumption of Spice trade or be rid of a powerful enemy,” her contact agreed. “It seems likely. However, this course of action has not yet occurred to him. Our advisors are withholding it as a suggestion, though the Emperor is sure to hear of it eventually.” 

“Why tell me?” Jessica asked. 

“Your daughter was to be the mother of the Kwisatz Haderach,” her contact said. “The Sisterhood requires your bloodline, or perhaps that of your son .” The emphasis was not lost on Jessica, but she held her head high regardless. “Plans are being made to ensure that you and Paul survive whatever the situation becomes on Arrakis. We have agents stationed there now, in Arrakeen. The usual legends are being fanned from the embers of long ago Missionaria Protectiva work.”

“I understand,” Jessica said. Her heart was racing. They would have to leave Caladan. 

“We will do what we can to prepare,” her contact said, gently. “If our agents on the ground still have Harkonnen access, they will leave you a note warning of any dangers they know of.” 

“Thank you,” Jessica said, and meant it. Sometimes it felt like the Sisterhood was working against her goals, but she felt a sudden surge of relief that she had the contacts to have heard of this. “I will begin my studies on Arrakis immediately. And perhaps I will have Paul begin to study the cultures of the many different worlds of the Imperium?” 

“That is acceptable,” her contact agreed. “Move quickly, but be discreet.” 

“I will,” Jessica said. She moved to the door and turned back, nodding at her contact. To the side, the man bowed respectfully. Then she stepped back into the realm of Castle Caladan and lost herself in preparation. 

Notes:

If you caught it - yes, Hasimir is wearing colored contacts as part of his disguise.

Chapter 13: Inertia

10165 AG - Arrakis

The few years that Hasimir had been in the Baron's “service” had not been kind to the Baron, and evidence of his excesses filled the room. A heavy mug of spice beer sat forgotten in a half-filled bathtub, and large platters of imported food were spread across heavy wooden tables. The Baron’s once-impressive form had lost muscle since he removed himself from the gladiator matches, though bloodstains badly scrubbed from the carpet showed his darker addictions were still being met. 

“You have failed us!" The Baron roared. "The Emperor means to remove us from Arrakis and place the thrice-accursed House Atreides in our place!” 

“Does he?” Hasimir asked, bored with the performance. Piter de Vries, lounging against a doorway across the room, chuckled at his impertinence. 

“I should have you killed! ” the Baron roared. “Or tortured like an animal! How would you like to fight in my arena?” 

“If the Baron requires entertainment, he needs only to find a man who can match me,” Hasimir said. That finally seemed to get the Baron’s attention. 

“What do you mean?” he asked, suddenly wary. Hasimir shrugged. “Piter! Is he bluffing through his teeth?” Piter’s eyes lost focus as he dropped into a Mentat trance. 

“First probability: no. Hasimir Fenring is credited to at least a dozen kills and linked by coincidence or unprovable accusations to at least a half-dozen more. He has most likely been trained by his Bene Gesserit wife-“ 

“Enough,” the Baron growled. “If I wanted you to sing his bloody praises, I would have said so.” Piter focused back into reality, half-smiling, and returned to tinkering with the lasgun he was holding. 

“The Atreides do not have the resources required to secure Arrakis,” Hasimir said. “The Emperor knows this. Neither of you are enjoying the Duke's rising popularity.” 

“What are you saying?” the Baron asked suspiciously. 

“Why, nothing, my Lord,” Hasimir said, dropping into a sarcastic bow. “Except that the Emperor requests a meeting with you to discuss urgent, private business.” The Baron smiled slowly. 

“Now that you point it out,” he said. “I can see some opportunities in this change.” 

“I’m certain you can, Baron,” Hasimir said. The Baron squinted, obviously trying to decide if he should take offense with his statement. 

“Is the meeting already set?” he asked at last. 

“Yes,” Hasimir said, reading Margot’s warning signs from the shadows. She was functioning as their Mentat, since he was too exposed to risk the level of concentration it required. The Baron was trying to see if he still needed Hasimir for anything. “The Emperor is expecting you on Kaitan as soon as you can arrange transport.” 

“Very well,” the Baron said. “I’ll have one of my idiot nephews start arranging matters here so that House Harkonnen could be ready to move back to Giedi Prime. Piter will come with me to Kaitan, of course, so you’ll stay here and report any issues to me.” 

“Very well,” Hasimir said. “The Emperor, naturally, is expecting to hear from me shortly to confirm your transport.” 

“Fine,” the Baron said. “Leave us. We must discuss this new development.” 

“My Lord,” Hasimir said with a bow. As he reached the door, he turned back as if he had just thought of something. “Who will deliver my antidote while you and de Vries are off-planet?” he asked. 

“I’ll arrange everything,” the Baron said. “Don’t worry.”

~ ~ ~

“It was always going to come to this,” Margot said as the two of them walked through the back streets of Arrakeen. Water-sellers and merchants cried their wares and Fremen in stillsuits stalked between the townspeople. The noise of the crowd and the lack of local knowledge of the Harkonnen agents meant that they could speak freely here, as long as they didn't draw attention.

“Is there any other information we need before he withholds the antidote?” Hasimir asked in a low voice, and gently took Margot’s arm as if escorting her just before her gaze went distant. Her Mentat abilities were growing alongside his own physical control. 

“High probability that the Harkonnens will leave a trap for the Atreides,” she murmured after a moment. “Piter knows the Atreides will correctly determine Arrakeen is the more fortifiable city, so whatever trap they build will have to be in their outpost here.” 

“Which makes it more on our ground than theirs,” Hasimir said. “Fortunate, because I suspect any inquiry from me on that topic would raise their immediate suspicion.”

“Neither of them are particularly vulnerable to my manipulations either,” Margot noted. “Perhaps we drop the ruse of servitude and try to warn the Atreides of the traps ourselves.” 

“Sir, would you care for some spice beer?” A particularly ambitious seller asked, moving to keep pace with them. Margot glanced at him and he backed off a step. 

“Bene Gesserit,” he muttered, somewhere between a curse and a benediction. “Have you a child, Noble-born?” A world of context lurked behind that question. The merchant had his own deeper meaning, thinking of a fulfillment of ancient prophecy. But he had no way of knowing that Hasimir’s inability to have children was what had prevented the Bene Gesserit from training him as the Kwisatz Haderach and nearly caused his death, no context on what the Bene Gesserit planned to do with Margot’s genetic line.  

“I do not,” Margot said, as if it was a matter of no consequence. “Excuse us.” They brushed past, walking briskly through the streets. Hasimir felt the man’s gaze on their back, and spared a moment to regret the loss of their anonymity in the crowd. 

“You’ve been productive,” he signed, slipping into their hand-sign code. As they carried on their secret conversation, they maintained a casual verbal discussion of the wares around them. 

“When the Atreides get here, they will be met by worshippers ,” Margot signed, though she used the sign for friend and then the sign for foe. Hasimir understood. Worshippers were an unknown - they could protect their supposed Prophet, or test him to destruction.

“Coincidence? The child question?” he signed back. It had only been a few days prior that Margot had received the message that she was soon to bear a child for the Bene Gesserit. They were still waiting on the details of the pairing. 

“Or prescience?” Margot signed. “Heavy Spice use can give pieces of the future.” 

“So it is said,” Hasimir said out loud, timing it to their verbal patter about the market. 

“Um-m-m, indeed,” Margot said, and smiled. 

“How do you plan to warn the Atreides?” Hasimir asked, back in sign. “Our communications and travels will be well watched.” 

“It’s such a lovely garden,” Margot said aloud. “A shame about all of the water that it uses, of course. She signed coded-note as she spoke. “That place has such a feminine energy. I’m sure Jessica will be drawn to it, as I was.” Hasimir smiled. 

“You, ah-h-h, understand the many ways of the world,” he said placidly, implying that it would be dangerous to move so dramatically against Harkonnen plans. Margot gave him a considering look and he smiled.

“With you,” he signed, an old shorthand code to defer the decision to the whims of the other party’s current master. The Bene Gesserit wanted Jessica and Paul alive - so the Fenrings would do what needed to be done.

Chapter 14: Delicate Cargo

“I don’t know what I did wrong!” their mark protested, terror clear in his voice.

Hasimir was quiet on the other end of the radio, and Margot closed her eyes to picture his expression. It was frustrating to be only listening in, not in the field, but the Bene Gesserit had strict rules about sequestering expectant mothers. She was pushing things already by staying in Castle Caladan while the Atriedes were on Arrakis.

“I didn’t ask what you did wrong,” Hasimir said, almost soothingly. He was speaking softly and Margot imagined him leaning in to put a hand on the man’s arm. “I asked you where your shipment was.” 

“Like I said, I-” the man cut off abruptly, presumably as Hasimir’s grip tightened. “All we’re carrying are a few luxury items!” the man squeaked. “Nothing for the Emperor’s guard dog to be concerned with!”

“I’ll decide what I am and am not concerned with,” Hasimir said, a dangerous note slipping into his tone.

“You’re gonna break my arm!” the man yelped. “Fine, fine, it’s still in the shuttle!”

“Now, was that so hard?” Hasimir asked lightly, though Margot could read real annoyance under his tone. The delay had cost them time. 

“Didn’t use to be like this,” the man whined. “The Atreides were tough, sure, but they were fair too. You never…” His complaints faded as Hasimir walked away. 

“You aren’t going to warn him not to talk to anyone?” Margot asked, amused. Hasimir hummed a negative, just loud enough for the mic to pick it up. 

“Who would believe him?” he said, and laughed softly. 

“You’re going to take a right at the next intersection,” Margot said. “It’s a non-Guild shuttle prepping to take the cargo up to orbit.” 

“I see it,” Hasimir said. “Doors are closing.” There was the sound of metal sliding, and then an echoing clang. 

“Did you just jump into the airlock of a ship headed to orbit?” Margot asked, rhetorically. 

“Yes,” Hasimir said, and she heard a sharp electrical pop. “Overriding the door locks.” 

“Be careful,” she warned. “If you lose atmospheric pressure in the airlock, you’ll be vented into space.” There was no response, and she felt her heart rate spike. She took a deep breath and reached for calm. A few breaths later, she achieved it.

“Hasimir,” she said, and he hummed an affirmative. Almost subvocal, so he was hiding from someone. Hiding was good. Hiding meant he’d gotten onto the ship. “Can you see the shipment?” A negative response. 

She heard a door open, a thud of a dart being fired, and a muffled shout. 

“Pilot dispatched,” Hasimir said. “He has a key. Any additional security?” 

“There’s a patch of decking that’s electrified,” Margot said. “Grid pattern 1, avoid tiles B3-B5.” She heard a lock click open. There was a tense moment of silence, and then Hasimir’s voice returned - undeniably smug beneath his careful control. She wasn’t sure if he was getting sloppy or she was getting better at reading him.

“Package acquired,” he said. “Returning the ship to the Caladan berth.” 

“Traces?” she asked. Hasimir replied in code. 

“The guard will awaken shortly with confusion and memory loss. I distributed my collection from several crates - it is unlikely the discrepancy will be noticed.” Hasimir said. His footsteps rang through the hollow metal hallway. “I suspect the Guildsmen knew this was coming, but as there were no deaths or injuries they seem to have allowed it. Perhaps it amused them.” 

“And the package is undamaged?” Margot asked, bracing herself. 

“Yes,” Hasimir said. As ever, he was more amused than insulted by her doubt. “I have five here, no marks or abrasions. I’ll be back to Castle in less than an hour.” Margot shifted, a sudden whisper of noise catching her attention. Someone was in their room. 

“I’ll have to call you back,” she said. 

~ ~ ~

Hasimir slid around to the back of Castle Caladan, letting himself in through one of the secret passageways they’d discovered early on. 

Ducking a handful of obvious traps and a few subtler ones he’d built himself, he found himself hurrying. The strain in Margot’s voice meant only one thing - yet another assassination attempt. The Harkonnens had taken his failure to die when they withheld their antidote personally, and resumed their attempts on his life with vigor. This time, though, they knew of Margot’s involvement and were gunning for both of them.

He reached the last door, leading into the room they had been staying in. A different man might have thrown open the door and burst into the room, shouting for his wife. But Hasimir did not intend to act hastily, even as his concern waged a vicious war on his self-control.

He pressed an ear to the wooden door, straining to hear any clues from inside. Distantly, he heard a muffled sob. He frowned, drawing a knife from his sheath and unlocking the door with his non-dominant hand.

He nudged open the door a sliver, peering through the crack. Margot was sitting on the bed and crying softly. A body lay at her feet, a garrotte loosely coiled around one slack hand. Blood splattered the walls and ceiling, and the gentle sound of sobs was broken only by the occasional drip of blood hitting the wooden floor. 

Hasimir gingerly set down his delivery, shutting the door to the tunnel behind him. He moved to the body first, verifying that it was indeed deceased. It was, a neat slit across the throat indicative of Margot’s usual sure hand. Must have hit an artery, for how much blood was in the room.

He gave the room a quick scan for other dangers (ignoring, as always, the potential threat of Margot at his back). Finding none, he turned to his wife with a creeping sense of being in over his head. 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, sinking onto the bed next to her. “Poisoned?” Blood seeped into his trousers and he ignored it. 

“No,” Margot said, drawing in a deep stabilizing breath. “We’re both fine. It’s just the hormones. Ridiculous - but I can’t shut them off. It would endanger the child.”

“What happened when you started feeling the emotion?” Hasimir asked, and Margot stifled a laugh. 

“Is that a Mentat asking, or my husband?” she asked, but the question had no real bite. She sighed. “The blood got on the bed, which means I have to change the sheets again - because the cleaning staff keeps trying to put traps in when I let them in. And my feet ache, no matter how much I try to relax the muscles there.” 

“Well, I can certainly get rid of those problems,” Hasimir said. “They do call me the Errand Boy, you know. We must all do our best to live up to our reputations.” His faux-solemnity made Margot roll her eyes, even through her tears. “But first, I have something for you.” 

“The shipment!” Margot said, sitting suddenly upright. “I had almost forgotten!”

Hasimir slipped back and retrieved the paper bag. With the utmost care, he set it on the table next to the bed, avoiding a small puddle of blood. He reached in and pulled out a perfectly ripe mango. He knew it was perfectly ripe because of hours of meticulous research the night before attempting this mission. 

“Directly from Giedi Prime,” he said. She reached out and took it, eyeing it with a mixture of caution and pleasure. 

“You’ve already..?” she asked. 

“Cleared a poison snooper, washed, and hasn’t left my sight,” he confirmed. To demonstrate, he held it beneath their poison snooper until it chimed approval. 

Margot took it from his hand, sinking her teeth into it immediately. He indicated the chair at the table, and while she set about devouring the mangoes he methodically stripped the bed and then scared a maid into delivering clean sheets. 

“Good?” he asked, as Margot finished a second mango and began to slow. 

“They would have been worth every penny, if we hadn’t stolen them,” Margot said. 

“I would have bought them if the trader had been willing,” Hasimir objected. “It would have drawn less attention.” He tossed the ruined sheets onto the ground by the body to soak up some of the blood there. 

“Ah-h-h, Giedi Prime. Produces terrible people and wonderful fruit,” Margot said dryly. 

“You don’t have to remind me of that danger,” Hasimir said, dragging the body by its heels over to the corner. He washed the blood off his hands and then considered his bloodstained attire. With a shrug, he changed into cleaner clothes. 

“And the rest of it?” Margot asked. Hasimir switched into their simplest code - he needed his hands free as he began to make the bed. 

“Paul and Jessica have not been spotted in the desert,” he said. “The Emperor believes them dead and additionally no longer fears the Baron revealing his use of Sardukar. The Spice is flowing. As far as the Imperium is concerned, Arrakis is back to normal.” 

“And yet Bene Gesserit missionaries on Arrakis hear whispers,” Margot replied. “I suspect it’s Jessica using the implanted legends to whip Fremen into a frenzy. The Reverend Mothers are adamant that it is only some religious fanatic, but I think at least Gaius Helen Mohiam suspects their survival.” Hasimir smoothed out the heavy wool blanket on top of the bed. 

“Perhaps we ought to retire, mmm?” he said with a smile. He took the seat opposite Margot and gestured with one hand. With an expression that bordered on sheepishness, she put her foot in his lap and he began to rub at the tense muscles. 

“We’d be terrible at retirement,” she said. “Too hard, are you trying to interrogate me?” He reduced his force accordingly.

“That is the way I learned these pressure points,” he admitted. She laughed. 

“Me too,” she said. “But when I was older - after you left - sometimes the older Bene Gesserit would ask us to rub their feet.”

The window to their right, supposedly bullet-resistant glass, shattered inward as a lithe woman tumbled through it. She landed on her feet and drew a long, curved sword in each hand. 

Hasimir and Margot shared a look of silent commiseration. 

The assassin glanced around the scene with a look of growing concern. She glanced at Margot, sitting with her feet in Hasimir’s lap. Blood still dripped from the ceiling onto the body of the last assassin. Hasimir gave her his most unsettling smile and shook his head, still massaging Margot’s feet. 

“I would recommend,” he said, “that you come back at a better time.”

Chapter 15: Sandstorm Rising

“We are going to Arrakis,” the Emperor said. Hasimir, a half-step behind him as they strode through the hallway, hid a flinch by reaching for his knife. 

“You’ll finally allow me to kill Baron Harkonnen?” he asked, letting just a hint of enthusiasm seep into his tone. “His assassins have been getting tedious, I admit.” 

“No, you fool!” Shaddam shouted, whirling on Hasimir. He shrank back, yielding ground in the familiar game. “This isn’t about your little petty squabbles! Paul Atreides is alive!”

Well, Irulan had seemed to be keeping something back from him. This certainly explained it. 

“What does he want?” Hasimir asked. There was no point in feigning ignorance - if he truly hadn’t known, he would try to cover for that fact, and Shaddam knew it. 

“He wants to meet,” the Emperor spat. “He threatens to reveal all, starting with the Sardukar troops I sent to Arrakis.” 

“And you plan to meet his demands?” Hasimir asked. Shaddam slammed a hand into the wall next to him, glowering with an unfamiliar rage. 

“Of course I do! What else can I do?” he roared. “The Landsaarad would turn against me in a heartbeat with evidence that I betrayed one of their Great Houses. The Baron is probably planning on it!” That he most certainly was, though if the Bene Gesserit were right about what was happening on Arrakis it wouldn’t much matter. 

“Very well,” Hasimir said with a low bow. “Arrakis. Shall I prepare for your travels? Negotiate with The Guild? I assume you plan to bring a host of Sardukar.” 

“We will bring them all,” Shaddam snapped. “Pay what you have to. And Hasimir - you and Margot are coming too.” 

~ ~ ~

As soon as the atomics hit the shield wall, Margot and Hasimir dropped their weapons. Now was not the time to be considered enemy combatants, and their best protection now was their usefulness as hostages.

Outside, Fremen burst from the sand with crysknives in hand. Inside, the Emperor raged at his commanders.

Sandworms followed the sandstorm through the gap in the shield, crashing through whole legions of Sardukar at once. 

Margot made eye contact with Hasimir and signed the Emperor is lost . He gave her a faint nod in return. To maintain appearances, he stayed standing just to the left of the Emperor, weathering his rage and pleading in turns.

Margot hovered near the Truthsayer, missing Anirul dearly. No Bene Gesserit since her untimely death had managed to gain true influence over the Emperor. She knew the Truthsayer had barely half of the persuasive levers available. At least Irulan was with them - she still had some leverage over her father. 

In the end it was almost anticlimactic. The Sardukar guards were killed quickly, the hostages rounded up and shepherded away.

They separated the men and women, and Margot felt a single spike of panic as she saw a Fremen roughly drag Hasimir away from her. But as they led her to a cell, she remastered her emotion. Now was not a time to give anything away. They would be called back to witness whatever political theater Paul Atredies wished. She would have to plan to make sure some remnant of the Imperium would survive it. 

~ ~ ~

They led the hostages back in, arraying them against an audience of silent Fremen. Hasimir recognised a few faces - informants against the Harkonnens, who they’d traded military information to for safe passage. None of them met his eyes with their brilliant blue gazes. 

It was showmanship, building to an obvious point. But there was nothing to do about it now. If Paul won the fight, the Imperium would change forever.

Hasimir’s attention locked onto the movements of the fighters. They were brutal and fast. Paul moved with an awareness and expectation of an unshielded opponent - logical, since shields could not be risked in the open desert.

He’d seen Feyd-Rautha fight before in the gladiator match, and he fought as viciously today as on those white sands. But his moments of hesitation betrayed him - he was used to his prey having at least half-shields or slowed reflexes. It was costing him precious manuverability.

Hasimir wasn’t surprised when Feyd fell to the ground, dead. Nor was he surprised when the Emperor turned his attention on Hasimir. 

Through long association, no word or code was needed. The Emperor wanted Hasimir to kill Paul. 

Hasimir looked at Paul with the full force of his attention. He knew the truth of the Emperor’s command - he could kill the boy. He had decades more experience, was better trained in the Mentat and Bene Gesserit ways, and - most importantly - had seen the look of fear in Paul’s eyes. The true Kwisatz Haderach had somehow not predicted this moment. 

Paul’s fingers seemed to flutter nervously and Hasimir fought off the rigidity of shock. Using one of the many secret languages he and Margot had developed in isolation, Paul was signing him a message. 

We are only what they made us. He signed, a sudden and terrible sadness on his face. 

How? Hasimir signed back, the question almost instinctive in the familiar language. He felt the presence of Margot behind him, reacting to the same impossibility he was watching. 

I can’t see you. But I can see her.

The room was watching the two of them with baited breath. Hasimir glanced back at Margot. 

With you , she signed. She would back his decision then, and likely knew what it would be. 

We are dangerously exposed , Hasimir signed back. 

“Do it,” Shaddam hissed. Hasimir had never directly refused his order, never even hesitated. He spared a moment of idle curiosity to wonder what the Emperor would do about this betrayal. Then he dipped his head in a minute nod to Paul and backed away a step. 

“Majesty, I must refuse,” he said, bracing for the response. He felt, more than saw, as Margot slipped one of her knives into her hand and crept toward him to guard his back. 

Shaddam, flushed with rage and sudden impotence, strode forward. A Fremen stepped out of the way, either ignorant of or unconcerned for the potential for violence. 

Shaddam slapped Hasimir hard, his heavy jeweled rings tearing gashes across his cheek. Hasimir didn’t bother to flinch or dodge. 

The man who once was Emperor stood there for a moment, breathing heavily. The only emotion that Hasimir felt and put aside was pity. He had fallen so far and still could not understand the cause. And the Reverend Mother was cowed by the Voice Paul had used, both of them laid low before this thing the Benne Gesserit had once tried to turn Hasimir into. 

He urged a flush into his cheeks, assumed the guise of rage like an armor. 

“We have been friends, Majesty,” he said, soft and dangerous. He had not forgotten the long days they had spent together, Hasimir coaxing ambition out of the coddled heir. Nor had he forgotten the wine glass full of poison. “What I do now is out of friendship. I will forget that you struck me.”

Paul shifted and the attention of the room moved on. Now safely ignored, Hasimir and Margot crept closer together, waiting for the perilous end of whatever was forming. 

“We need to leave,” Margot breathed in his ear as Princess Irulan debated the finer points of her new marriage. 

The only person who noticed them go was Lady Jessica, blue-in-blue eyes gazing out from behind the girl she had once been. 

Notes:

That’s the last big chapter! The next and final chapter will just be a bit of an epilogue - and a hint at what the Fenrings might be up to during Dune:Messiah.

Chapter 16: Epilogue

Notes:

Thank you to everyone who has been reading. I hope you’ve enjoyed the story so far - your kudos and comments have been the highlights of my day!

The Jihad burned its way across the Imperium. Religions, politicians, and governments crumbled in its wake. Planets were destroyed and populations were subjugated. 

Where else to hide but Dune? 

No one would burn that planet to the ground, at least not successfully. And the constant dangers of the desert and the city were at least somewhat familiar. 

“There are Fremen coming back from the war who have swum in seas,” Margot said. Hasimir listened, curious. “They say there are plants growing openly around Arrakeen, and Muad’Dib is planning to have water fall from the sky.” 

“How close did they get?” Hasimir asked. Margot did not misunderstand him, running the numbers herself. 

“They needed perhaps a hundred more years,” she said, and he agreed with a nod. “To have built this into paradise themselves.” 

“They say the abundance of water is making Fedaykin soft,” Hasimir continued. “I wonder what would have happened here if there was no Spice. Or if our universe didn’t crave it so badly. What would these people have become, if there had not always been someone here to take?” 

“Is that what you wonder?” Margot asked. “I wonder what made Liet Kynes try to build Dune into a green paradise in the first place. He was not from here, did not grow up dreaming of water and green things. If anything, his project should have Salusa Secundus, where he also lived and worked. But he did not attempt to repair that ecosystem, only tried to change this one.” 

“The Emperor would never have l allowed Salusa Segundus to be modified, even if Kynes had shown interest. Too much value as a training ground,” Hasimir pointed out.

“There are a lot of questions remaining,” Margot said. She turned to Marie, who had a serious look on her five-year-old features. “What do you think, Marie?” 

“I think you’re missing the obvious question,” Marie said softly. Her voice was not accented in any obvious way, despite growing up with Freman and Imperium tongues alike. Unsurprisingly, she looked much more like her mother than like Hasimir.

“Which is the obvious question?” Hasimir asked. 

“What is going to stop the Jihad?”

~ ~ ~

Scytale glanced up as the door opened again. As they were not expecting anyone else, the others came alert in their various ways.

Entering their secret meeting without invitation was an unexpected duo. A wiry man, unremarkable in a way that spoke of long practice, was followed by a beautiful woman who was walking in his shadow like a bodyguard. 

“Your plan is going to fail,” the man said with an apologetic smile. “Muad’Dib can’t see you directly, Navigator, but he can see where you’ve been. You’ll never be able to control him, and killing him may cost more than you’re willing to pay.” 

“Who are you?” the Navigator asked, all haughty confusion. 

“You don’t know me?” the man asked, with a sharp-toothed smile. “I stood at the right hand of the Emperor for decades. I traveled on your ships to assassinations and wars. I could have killed Paul Atredies once and I chose not to. But you’ve never seen me in a single vision.” 

“How can that be?” The Navigator asked. Scytale listened, quiet and polite. He saw the woman reassessing him, tapping a coded message to her companion. 

“I am Hasimir Fenring. And forty-three years before Paul was born,” Hasimir said softly. “The Bene Gesserit attempted to make a Kwisatz Haderach.” 

“All men who drank the Water of Life besides Paul have perished,” Scytale said, cheerfully excluding the Tleilaxu success at creating a Kwisatz Haderach. Hasimir nodded.

“I was seven when I failed the genetic screening,” he said. “Not incapable of surviving, but incapable of breeding. What use to the Bene Gesserit is a Kwisatz Haderach who cannot sire children?”

“We’ve been running, more or less, ever since,” the woman added. “I’m Margot Fenring, and I’ve been the other half of this partnership. I trained Hasimir in Bene Gesserit methods after his exile, and he trained me in Mentat methods.”

“Interesting method of running to involve becoming the Emperor’s most trusted aide,” Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam said. She alone had not seemed surprised at the visitors’ revelations. 

“Who else had the power to hold off the Sisterhood?” Hasimir asked with a faint smile. “To hold you off, Reverend Mother?” 

“What is your proposal?” the Navigator asked impatiently. 

“Continue your plan,” Hasimir said. “But we have a few suggestions as to how someone off the radar can make things easier for you.” 

Notes:

Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment if you enjoyed, have a question, or even just to say hi!

Stay safe out there <3

 

The Humming Code
Ah-h-h: danger
Hm-m-m: target identification or request for target
Um-m-m: reverses the meaning of the phrase it is used in

Additional information is contained within the syllable count and hand motions.

This is loosely based off my attempts to decode the canon humming code from the book, so I hope you all enjoy!

Notes:

TW: children in danger, murder, poison, blades, betrayal by parents, canon-typical elements of mind control, cruelty to animals (bird), abandonment by parent, age/power difference (offscreen, canon Feyd/Margot), canon male infertility, blood, pregnancy

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Their Faces Masked By Smiles