CHAPITRE II:
PERSONAL FEARS.

"To attempt an understanding of Muad'Dib without understanding the premises of his relationship with the known Qalb Suhraa, is to attempt seeing Truth without knowing Falsehood. It is the attempt to see the Light without knowing Darkness. It can not be."

— from 'Collected Legends of Qalb Suhraa' by Emel Corrino

SWEAT CLUNG TO MADHAVI'S EVERY PORE, an unyielding testament to the fervor with which she pursued the training dummies. Her hair, damp and unruly, framed a face marked by zealous determination. In the rhythmic dance of combat, she found solace—the split air, the hiss of breath, and the internal fire that crackled in her gut, an orchestra of chaos led by her skill. In these moments, thought yielded to instinct, making her a formidable adversary, unpredictable and feared.

In the midst of her relentless training, a voice pierced through the symphony of battle. "Do you mind if I prac-"

The sentence hung in the air, unfinished, as Madhavi's blade materialized with alarming speed, poised mere millimeters from the speaker's throat. With unyielding focus, she met the startled gaze of the intruder, her hazel eyes ablaze with the reflection of her dagger's edge.

      "The old man is supposed to be training you."

Paul Atreides, the interrupter, regarded her with wide-eyed incredulity, prompting a bemused quirk of her brow. Couldn't he leave her to her solitude?

      "Gurney told me to come to you, that you'd teach me a thing or two."

Her dagger remained steady, a silent barrier between trust and uncertainty. A smirk played at the corners of young Idaho's lips as she finally lowered her weapon. Paul, catching his breath, watched her with cautious curiosity.

      "Are you going to pay me for my extra childcare hours?" she retorted, tossing a Holtzman shield in his direction, a challenge he effortlessly caught. His response carried a teasing undertone, leaving unspoken questions hanging in the air like lingering apparitions.

      "I would advise you to wear one too," he countered, his tone infused with playful ambiguity.

He who laughs last laughs best, Madhavi mused as she regarded him, her body silently protesting against his presence like an unheeded warning. Like attempting to persuade an addict to forsake their vice, she relished the challenge of testing others, unfazed even by the persistent unease echoing in her mind.

      "Attack." The command, propelled by an unseen force, compelled Paul forward, his eyes widening in realization as he lunged at Madhavi against his own will. The clash of blades was swift, a testament to the young Atreides gathering his wits amidst the tumult of involuntary movement. Each limb had betrayed him, responding to a power that transcended their autonomy.

       "You used the Voice on me!" Paul exclaimed, still reeling from the shock. The force behind the command had shaken him to his core, leaving a haggard expression etched across his face. Madhavi reveled in the spectacle, a broad smile gracing her features. Before he could say more, she cut him off.

      "Did I?" she mused before going back into fighting stance. "Stop talking and fight."

Paul tried to resist but the urge was far too strong. No matter what they said to reassure themselves, men were weak―as weak as the most fragile reed in the universe.

The clash of blades and the rattling of the Holtzman shield echoed in the room as the two engaged in a relentless dance. Each strike, each parry, was a testament to their skill and determination, their bodies moving with an almost primal instinct. Despite Paul's efforts, Madhavi remained steadfast, her resolve unyielding.

As the fight reached its climax, the young Atreides managed to knock her to the ground, breathlessly urging her to surrender.

      "Give up," he implored.

But the young Idaho's response was unwavering, her voice filled with defiance. "Never."

With renewed determination, she pushed herself back to her feet, her eyes burning with a fierce intensity. The battle was far from over, and neither of them would relent until the final blow was struck.

A sneer adorned her lips as she swiftly retaliated, incapacitating the Atreides heir with a display of controlled aggression. Retrieving his weapon, left just out of reach, she straddled him, both blades poised at his throat. In her world, surrender was a luxury the strong couldn't afford.

The strong leads, the weak bleeds.

Madhavi couldn't afford vulnerability in a world stained by brutality. As she studied him, impatient for the anticipated surrender, Paul's unexpected words shattered her expectations. The implications of his utterance sent a chill down her spine, stirring a disquieting realization that the unfolding confrontation held more than met the eye.

And just like that, her fate was sealed.

"I keep seeing you in my dreams."

The words hung heavy in the air, a revelation that pierced through the tension like a blade. Madhavi's gaze narrowed, a flicker of uncertainty betraying the mask of confidence she wore so well. Dreams were a realm of ambiguity, a place where truths intertwined with illusions, and the admission left her grappling with the unsettling notion of their shared fate.

For a moment, neither spoke, the weight of Paul's confession casting a shadow over their confrontation. In the depths of Madhavi's hazel eyes, a myriad of emotions swirled—doubt, curiosity, and a hint of something she dared not name.

Disconcerted by the young Atreides' confession, she stood up abruptly. Gulping with difficulty, she looked at him with furrowed brows as he also began to get up. The sword of Damocles that hung over her head seemed to have pierced her through and through. The thread that held it appeared to have been cut by an ill-intentioned hand, lying in wait for this moment. A person's destiny was on hold until something triggered the machine to start up again.

He doesn't seem to be lying...

      "What do you mean?"

She knew exactly what he meant, but she couldn't help convincing herself that it was just a bad dream. Madhavi had managed to maintain some semblance of calm since leaving her homeland, she didn't want to fall back into the turmoil of fear she had experienced.

      "I've seen you plenty of times, in the desert, just the two of us in the middle of thousands of bodies. And-"

The young girl met his gaze again, her eyes full of apprehension. A lump had formed in her throat―fear. She had no choice but to remember the vision, the confusion she had felt, and the horror that had taken hold of her when she saw the dead body of her father on the ground.

      "Were you... holding out your hand to me?" she asked him in an unsure voice.

Paul Atreides widened his eyes before nodding slowly. They had been having the same dream and a nagging feeling was beginning to plague the young Idaho.

Fear.

I can't be afraid.

Fear is the mind killer. It will only lead to my downfall.

He will bring me to my doom.

Madhavi's gaze bore into him, searching for answers amidst the labyrinth of their intertwined dreams. In the depths of her eyes, Paul glimpsed the flicker of vulnerability, a vulnerability he dared not acknowledge in himself. For beneath the facade of strength and stoicism lay a vulnerability that threatened to consume him whole—a vulnerability he could ill afford in the face of their uncertain future.

As the weight of their shared revelation hung heavy in the air, Paul felt the inexorable pull of fate drawing them closer together. In that moment, amidst the echoes of their shared dreams and the unspoken truths that bound them, Paul knew that their destinies were inexorably intertwined—a truth that both terrified and exhilarated him in equal measure.

 . . .

The relentless expanse of sand stretched out before Madhavi, an endless sea of shifting dunes that seemed to ripple in the scorching desert sun. Squinting against the dazzling light, she scanned the horizon, a sense of unease gnawing at the edges of her consciousness.

Was it a sandstorm?

Madhavi doubted it.

There was something ominous about the cloud of dust billowing towards her—a harbinger of impending doom.

As the dust cloud drew closer, Madhavi's heart quickened with a sense of foreboding. She could feel the ground tremble beneath her feet, the ominous rumble of an approaching sandworm echoing through the desert air. In the distance, a lone figure emerged from the swirling sands—a figure she recognized all too well.

Paul Atreides.

The worm was heading straight for him, despite the many vibrations she was producing to keep it away. With a surge of adrenaline, Madhavi sprang into action, her instincts taking over as she raced to intercept the sandworm hurtling towards him. Her mind screamed warnings, urging her to flee, but she couldn't abandon him to his fate—not when she had the power to intervene.

One.

"Paul!"

Her voice was lost in the roar of the desert wind as she closed the distance between them, her heart pounding in her chest. With each step, the sand churned beneath her feet, threatening to swallow her whole as she fought to reach him in time.

Two.

As the sandworm bore down on them with relentless fury, Madhavi leapt into action, her body moving with a grace born of desperation. With a swift, decisive motion, she hurled herself at Paul, knocking him clear of the sandworm's path in a blur of motion.

Three.

But even as she pushed him to safety, a searing pain tore through her abdomen, stealing the breath from her lungs. A metallic tang filled her mouth as she looked down, her vision swimming with agony. A crimson stain blossomed across her suit, staining the desert sands with the echo of her sacrifice.

Paul's anguished voice pierced the haze of pain, his tear-streaked face etched with horror and remorse. In that moment, as the desert sands swallowed her whole, Madhavi knew that her fate was sealed—a martyr to a destiny she could never escape.

"I'm so sorry, Madi." he said, letting out a few tears.

. . .

WITH THAT, THE VISION ENDED, LEAVING THE GIRL IN DISARRAY. She was on her knees, pulling at her hair as big tears rolled down her cheeks. Madhavi had never been afraid of death, only hoping that she would die with dignity. However, this vision had been a blow to her throat, making her see that loyalty was not such a good fruit-bearer.

The weight of the revelation pressed down on her, leaving her feeling suffocated by the burden of her own fate. She had always prided herself on her loyalty to people, her unwavering dedication to a cause. But now, faced with the undeniable truth of her own mortality, she couldn't help but question the choices that had led her to this vision.

Her mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions—fear, anger, and a profound sense of betrayal. Betrayal not only by those who had manipulated her fate but by the very essence of her own existence. Was this her destiny, to be nothing more than a pawn in someone else's game? Or was there still a glimmer of hope, a chance to forge her own path in the face of adversity?

As she struggled to make sense of the chaos raging within her, Madhavi felt a hand on her shoulder, a gentle reminder of the presence that lingered at the edge of her consciousness. Paul Atreides stood beside her, his expression one of concern and compassion.

      "Don't! Don't come near me!" snapped Madhavi, her voice faltering. Her shaky breathing and the horror on her face only made the heir of House Atreides move closer, his movements slow and deliberate. The vulnerability in his gaze mirrored her own, a shared understanding of the struggles they faced. And in that moment, Madhavi felt a flicker of something warm and comforting amidst the darkness—a glimmer of hope that she wasn't as alone as she had thought.

But even as Paul reached out to her, offering his hand in support, the young Idaho recoiled, the weight of her own fears too heavy to bear.

Whispers swirled around her like a relentless storm, as she felt her senses overwhelmed by the cacophony of voices echoing in her mind. The weight of their words bore down on her like a suffocating blanket, each fragment of prophecy and legacy adding to the confusion and despair that threatened to consume her.

Qalb Suhraa. Heart of the desert. Lead to your downfall. Lisan al-Gaib. Holy crusade. The Jihad.

The words echoed in her ears like a haunting refrain, their meaning elusive yet ominous. They spoke of destinies intertwined with the sands of time, of paths laid out before her that she couldn't hope to comprehend. And amidst the chaos, Madhavi felt herself unraveling, her sanity slipping through her fingers like grains of sand.

      "Don't, please... They are talking to me," she sobbed, her voice a desperate plea for reprieve. Her hands clutched at her hair, her fingers digging into her scalp in a futile attempt to silence the voices that threatened to tear her apart from within. But the whispers only grew louder, their relentless onslaught pushing her closer to the edge of madness.

Madhavi had never felt so helpless, so utterly lost in the labyrinth of her own mind. With each passing moment, the pounding in her skull intensified, a relentless drumbeat that threatened to drive her to her knees. And as the pain flared to life behind her eyes, she knew that she was teetering on the brink of something far more sinister than she could ever imagine.

Though he pondered the identity of these elusive 'they' Paul Atreides remained silent. Despite Madhavi's protests, he approached her and enveloped her in his arms. She wasn't one for physical contact, often stiffening at the touch of others. Yet, in his embrace, she found a strange sense of familiarity, as if she had been there before.

      "You'll kill me..." she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and uncertainty.

She had seen her own death at his hands.

Yet, despite the chilling premonition, she allowed herself to be soothed by the reassuring touch of his hand on her cheek, the subtle rise and fall of his shoulders with each breath, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her chin. Her own heart would stop because of him.

Yet, she continued to sink into his embrace, desperately clinging to the hope that it was all just a fleeting vision.

      "That doesn't mean anything," Paul insisted, his words meant to offer solace but only serving to deepen her sense of dread. It was a stark reminder that they were not masters of their own destinies, least of all her.

With a heavy heart, Madhavi extracted herself from his embrace, hastily wiping away the tears and snot that stained her cheeks. Paul's gaze remained fixed on her, and she struggled to maintain her composure, unwilling to reveal her vulnerability.

Who would he see her as now? A weakling succumbing to fear and tears, haunted by mere dreams?

      "You're not weak for being afraid," he said gently, his voice carrying a comforting reassurance. "Fear is a natural response, especially when faced with uncertainties about the future."

Madhavi recoiled again from Paul's touch, her gaze darting between his hand and his face. The feeling of familiarity that had briefly washed over her dissipated, replaced by the usual tension she felt when in close proximity to others. She despised being an open book, especially to someone like the heir of House Atreides.

      "Do you now possess the ability to read minds?" she blurted out, her tone sharp as she instinctively moved away from him.

Paul's expression remained composed, though he sensed the animosity in Madhavi's demeanor. "It's a defense mechanism. You're frightened," he remarked calmly.

A chill ran down Madhavi's spine at his words. If looks could kill, Paul Atreides would have been buried alongside the bulls his grandfather had slain. Her eyes, not known for revealing her emotions, betrayed one thing clearly—anger.

What right did he have to tell her she was afraid?

In a swift motion, Madhavi pressed Paul against the wall, a dagger poised threateningly against his delicate ducal skin. The audacity of the young man to overstep her boundaries ignited a fury within her, and the air crackled with tension as neither of them showed any intention of backing down or averting their gaze.

His calm demeanor seemed to miss its mark, failing to intimidate the seasoned Idaho. A cold, mirthless laugh escaped Madhavi's lips, her eyes darkening with disdain.

      "So, tell me, Atreides," she began, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "what keeps you awake at night, since you seem to fancy yourself an expert on fears?"

With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she tilted her head slightly to the right. Paul, though trying to maintain his composure, couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease creeping up his spine. Despite his efforts to suppress it, a parasitic feeling gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He found himself momentarily captivated by the subtle movement of her lips, painted in a shade of deep crimson.

      "My fears are none of your concern, Idaho," Paul retorted, his tone firm and unwavering. Despite the dagger still lingering perilously close to his neck, he appeared strangely unaffected, almost intrigued. He knew he was treading dangerous waters, but there was something about Madhavi's presence that both unsettled and intrigued him.

      "You do realise that my eyes aren't where my mouth is, right?" she quipped, a hint of annoyance coloring her tone. Leaning in closer, she whispered near his ear, "Your fears matter to me, more than you might think. They're what give you strength, whether you realize it or not."

Her words left Paul momentarily speechless as Madhavi deftly tucked her dagger into her boot. The malice returned to her features as she moved towards the door, her dark curls trailing behind her like a cloak of shadows.

       "And you're right," she added, casting a final glance over her shoulder, "we are masters of our own destinies. So, I won't let visions, nor you define mine, Atreides."

. . .

PAUL COULDN'T SLEEP.

Restless, he tossed and turned in his bed, the weight of sleep eluding him like a fleeting dream. The relentless patter of rain outside only added to his frustration. His gaze wandered across the intricately engraved stone ceiling, its patterns lost in the dim glow of the chamber.

With a sigh, he reached for the filmbook on his bedside table, fingers tracing the familiar contours of its surface before activating it. The light of its projector illuminated the room as he looked at the hologram of the man that appeared.

Atreus.

The name held a weight of history, a legacy woven into the fabric of House Atreides. Yet, tonight, even the tales of his esteemed ancestor failed to captivate Paul's restless mind.

As the holographic images flickered to life, Paul's expression remained impassive, his thoughts elsewhere. The memory of his encounter with Madhavi lingered, an unresolved chord that resonated within him. He couldn't shake the sense of unease that had settled between them, nor could he decipher the reasons behind her sudden aloofness.

He longed to understand, to bridge the growing chasm between them, but uncertainty held him back. Madhavi was an enigma, a puzzle he couldn't solve, and the fear of what lay beyond that mystery gnawed at him.

Their relationship had always been a delicate dance, a balance between fear and fascination. From the moment they met, there had been an undeniable pull, a magnetic attraction that defied logic. At first, he was drawn to her piercing blue-within-blue eyes, the haunting sadness that seemed to linger behind them.

Yet, as time passed, he discovered more layers to her, layers he couldn't resist peeling back. Despite her initial guardedness, she started to let him closer. He could finally sit next to her without having the uncomfortable sensation that she would kill him in the next minutes.

Paul loved listening to the stories of her homeland. The little girl didn't say much but he listened to every single word he could steal from her, secretly liking the accent she had when speaking.

It could have stopped there. It stopped there... for a while.

But then, the dreams began. Strange, vivid visions that blurred the lines between reality and illusion. They came without warning, infiltrating his subconscious with their unsettling truths. And in those dreams, Madhavi was always there, a constant presence amidst the chaos.

Paul couldn't help but wonder what it all meant, what role she played in the tangled web of his destiny. Was she the key to unlocking the mysteries of his future, or was she merely a harbinger of darker truths yet to come?

Lost in his thoughts, Paul felt a surge of frustration wash over him. He longed for answers, for clarity in the midst of uncertainty. But as he lay in his bed, the rain still falling outside, he knew that some mysteries were destined to remain unsolved, at least for now.

Madhavi's avoidance of him had become a palpable presence in their interactions, casting a shadow over every encounter. Paul could recall moments when he attempted to offer a smile, only to be met with a darkening of her gaze before she hurriedly departed, leaving him with a sense of unease. 

Each interaction with her seemed to stir something deep within him, an indiscernible emotion that defied explanation. Confronting Madhavi had become an inevitable necessity, a looming task he could no longer evade.

Minutes stretched into eternity as he lay in bed, attempting in vain again to fall asleep. With an exhausted sigh, Paul conceded defeat. Another night of tossing and turning was more than he could bear. Perhaps a walk in the midst of the storm would offer him the clarity he sought.

Pushing aside the covers, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet. He paused for a moment, glancing out of the window at the relentless rain cascading down in sheets. The idea of stepping out into the downpour didn't deter him. If anything, it felt like a fitting backdrop for the tumultuous thoughts swirling within him.

Leaving his chamber behind, Paul traversed the dimly lit corridors of the castle, his path illuminated by the soft gleam of his glowglobe. Each footstep echoed against the stone walls, a somber accompaniment to his solitary journey.

The heavy scent of wet earth and flowers enveloped the young Atreides as he stepped into the garden, the rain adding its own symphony to the atmosphere. Closing the door behind him with a soft click, he scanned the surroundings, searching for a place to sit and gather his thoughts. That's when his gaze landed on Madhavi, huddled against a stone bench in the center of the garden, her dark curls clinging to her back, eyes seemingly closed in introspection.

For a moment, Paul hesitated, unsure whether to approach her. Their last encounter had ended in tension and anger, and he wasn't sure if she would welcome his presence now. But something within him urged him forward.

With cautious steps, Paul approached her, the rain soaking through his clothes as he drew nearer. His whole mind was screaming at him to get back inside, to try to sleep again, but he never listened to it. Not when it comes to her.

      "I didn't ask for company, Atreides." came Madhavi's voice, slicing through the gentle patter of raindrops. Her words carried a sharp edge, a reminder of the rift between them.

Paul halted a few feet away, the weight of her words heavy in the air. He felt the tension between them, thick and palpable, like an invisible barrier separating them.

      "I know," he replied, his voice soft against the backdrop of the rain. "But I couldn't sleep, and I—I needed to clear my head."

Madhavi remained silent, her posture tense as she kept her eyes closed, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. Paul hesitated, unsure of his next move. Should he stay or retreat?

      "I'll leave if you want me to," he offered, taking a step back.

He didn't want to. It was the most vulnerable he saw her for a while, and it was oddly refreshing.

He hesitated, his gaze lingering on her form as she sat huddled against the stone bench, a solitary figure in the midst of the storm. Paul couldn't help but notice the way the rain seemed to caress Madhavi's features, softening the edges of her usually stoic countenance. Her dark curls, drenched with rainwater, framed her face like a halo, adding an ethereal quality to her presence.

The young Idaho's response, barely audible over the sound of the rain, caught Paul off guard. Her words hung in the air like a fragile whisper, carrying a weight that belied their simplicity. It was as if she were inviting him into the storm, urging him to share in the chaos that enveloped them both.

      "Just keep quiet."

Confusion knotted Paul's stomach as he took a hesitant step forward, his eyes searching Madhavi's face for some clue to her thoughts. But her expression remained inscrutable, her eyes closed as if shut off from the world around her.

With a heavy sigh, Paul settled onto the bench, leaving a respectful distance between them. The rain continued to fall around them, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of the young Atreides' heart. And as he sat in silence beside Madhavi, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were both trapped in the storm, struggling to find shelter from the tempest raging within. He couldn't help but feel a sense of disquiet in her presence, as if there were depths to her that he couldn't quite fathom.

      "Why are you out here in the rain?" Paul finally ventured, breaking the silence that had settled between them. "You'll get sick."

He heard her sigh, imagining her rolling her eyes under her closed eyelids at his question.

Madhavi's sigh was heavy with resignation, and for a moment, Paul feared he had overstepped some invisible boundary.

      "I'm already sick," she murmured, her words carrying a weight that sent a shiver down Paul's spine.

He frowned, his concern growing as he tried to make sense of her cryptic response. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice soft with worry.

Madhavi remained silent for a moment, her breath hitching as if she were struggling to find the right words. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a murmur.

      "Forget what I said. You should go back inside, Paul."

The young Atreides felt a jolt of surprise at the use of his first name, a name that felt foreign and yet strangely intimate on the young Idaho's lips. He couldn't help but wonder what had prompted her to break the barrier of formality she had erected between them.

Was she talking about an actual sickness or something else? Perhaps something related to her visions?

The weight of her words hung heavy in the air, leaving Paul grappling with uncertainty. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to Madhavi's statement than met the eye, that there were layers of meaning hidden beneath the surface.

      "Madhavi," Paul began, his voice soft with concern. "What did you mean by that? Are you—are you okay?"

Finally opening her eyes, she turned her head to his direction.

The yound Idaho's gaze met Paul's, and for a moment, he saw a flicker of something vulnerable in her eyes before she quickly masked it with her usual guarded expression. The rain continued to cascade around them, adding a sense of urgency to the already tense atmosphere.

      "I'm fine," she replied curtly, her voice betraying none of the anguish that Paul sensed beneath the surface. "Just go back inside. You don't need to be out here in the rain with me."

As he rose from the bench, his feet hesitated, rooted to the ground by a sudden surge of determination. Madhavi's words echoed in his mind, her vulnerability tugging at something deep within him.

      "And what if I want to stay?" he blurted out, surprising even himself with the unexpected defiance in his voice.

Madhavi's gaze snapped to his, a mixture of surprise and apprehension flickering across her features.

      "I'm not leaving you out here alone," he declared, his voice firm and unwavering.

For a moment, the young girl seemed to waver, her gaze faltering under the intensity of his stare. But then, with a sigh of resignation, she nodded, a small flicker of gratitude flashing in her eyes.

      "Suit yourself," she muttered, her tone laced with reluctant acceptance.

The rain continued its relentless assault, enveloping them in a cocoon of mist and melancholy. Madhavi remained lost in her thoughts, her eyes closed against the onslaught of water, while Paul watched her in silence.

For a while, they sat there, each lost in their own world, the only sound the steady drumming of raindrops against the leaves and the distant rumble of thunder. Paul couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over him as he watched Madhavi, her presence a calming presence amidst the storm.

But as the minutes stretched into hours, the cold began to seep into Paul's bones, reminding him of the harsh reality of their situation. With a sigh, he finally rose from the bench, offering Madhavi a fleeting glance before turning to leave.

      "Goodnight, Madhavi," he said softly.

The girl didn't reply, her thoughts still a million miles away, but she nodded ever so slightly to acknowledge what he said.

As he trudged through the garden, Paul knew he would fall sick from sitting out in the rain for so long.

But somehow, in that moment, it didn't seem to matter.

IZIA'S NOTE

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