The city looked harsh to the eye. The walls cold and hostile. It definitely seemed like a place where the Harkonnens would reside.
A bunker fit for world destroyers.
Entering the building with guards, they stopped and insisted to conduct a search on them. Though what they found they didn't like.
A crysknife.
This knife is sacred to all Fremen, to hold one was a great privilege and honor. The blade made of the sacred Shai-Hulud. A tooth of a sandworm woven into a stained black handle littered with deep ridges.
A true holy weapon and no one, especially outsiders, had the right to take it from another.
The guards however viewed it as a dangerous weapon to assassinate the Duke and his son so refused to back down.
Their voices grew louder and louder, Stilgar spitting out insults and jabs in their native tongue while Bracha attempted to reason with them.
Patience was wearing thin. The guards tightened their hands on their weapons, anticipating a fight. The louder Stilgar got, the more on edge the guards were who yelled back ferociously causing Stilgar to raise his voice even further. A vicious cycle ending well for nobody. It needed to be resolved and quickly.
"What's happening?" a voice called out, the Duke.
The guards exchanged glances between each other until one gained enough courage to speak.
"They have weapons they refuse to hand over."
"You won't touch it," Stilgar hissed in his native tongue,
"It's a crysknife," a voice piped in, this one familiar to Bracha. Duncan was his name. The man who walked for adys to find them. The man who entered her home, albeit with help from her whether he knew it or not. She had come to respect him, he was a fierce warrior with much determination.
"The knife is sacred," he continued, vouching for them, "they mean no harm with it."
A beat of silence passed.
"Let them through," the Duke ordered.
As those words left Leto's mouth, STilagr pushed through the guards as they grumbled about the disrespect he had just shown them.
Storming up to the table, an anxious man drew out a weapon, pointing it at Stilgar. Bracha pushed between them and glared at the old man, her fingers itching to wrap around her own knife and teach the man a lesson.
Stilgar spat at Leto's feet, agitating the room even further as the weapon came closer to their necks.
Duncan, seemingly taking on the role as pacifist, turned towards Stilgar.
"We thank you for your water," he smiled and spat to the floor, causing the Duke to do the same.
The room sat in stunned silence and Bracha took this opportunity to look around at the occupants.
The old man to ehr right returning his weapon to its holster as his glare stayed on her and Stilgar, His gaze would occasionally flicker over to the Duke as if awaiting an instruction to cut off their heads.
In the middle of the table was Leto Atreides, the man who had invited them here. The Fremen were all heavily suspicious of him which you couldn't blame. They had been brutally oppressed their whole lives by the Harkonnens, trust wouldn't come easy.
The Duke held a small smile on his face, clearly an attempt to not seem threatening, wanting this meeting to go well.
Next to Leto as Duncan. The man who threw himself into the desert in hopes to find the Fremen. He had become topic of conversation for a while, people laughing about his stupidity and discussing their recent pranks they had played on him. Most of these pranks leading him close to death. Bracha ended up taking pity upon the man. He was clearly no threat so she took it upon herself to leave some not so subtle clues as to where they resided. One he 'found' them she took him under her wing, ensuring he would survive his little trip. She liked to think they had become friends.
Duncan turned his head slightly so he now looked at her, throwing a playful eye roll as he gestured towards the old man. Bracha laughed under her breath, her hand coming up to muffle the sound even further. He then pulled a face, attempting to imitate the old man but ended up looking constipated.
Her shoulders shook with laughter and her other hand slapped over her mouth. The sound of her jewelry clanking drew everyone's eyes over to her as she attempted to wallow down her laughter.
"Who might you be?" queried the Duke, not looking at all bothered by her unintentional interruption (unlike his grumpy second in command).
She cursed Duncan in her head for causing this as she gave him a slight glare. He just innocently smiled and looked away, trying to hold in his own laughter at her misfortune.
"Bracha," she responded, slightly nodding her head.
"I invited you both here to talk about the future," he paused, scratching at his graying beard," I know how you feel about us being here."
Stilgar shot Bracha a look of disbelief.
"You cause no issues, we have no issues," Stilagr stated.
"I won't do anything against you or your people. I want us to live in peace-"
"-as any sane person should," she cut in, eyeing Leto.
"Yes, exactly," the Duke paused, eyes darting between the two Fremen, "we won't do what they did. We will help you and I hope our relationship can grow strong."
Stilgar analysed the man, his face blank, " do not seek our sietches. Do not trespass in our lands. The desert was ours long before you came so stay out of it."
"My duty," Leto began," is to rule and protect. I can't promise not to travel into the desert if my duty compels me. But your sietches will be yours forever and you will never be hunted."
Bracha glanced towards her sietch leader, anticipating his response.
"That is very honorable," Stilgar turned to leave, glancing behind him to Leto," but I must go."
As they began to leave, a voice stopped them in their tracks.
"Won't you stay? We would honour you."
It was the Duke's son- Paul was his name. As Bracha studied his appearance her breaths became shaky and her mind went into overdrive. He looked so much like the one they had prophesied, only much younger and ignorant.
"Honour requires that I be elsewhere," Stilgar replied before looking at the boy.
Bracha's hands found his cloak, gripping onto it as she began to feel light headed. She was extremely overwhelmed. To make matters worse, Stilgar spoke once more.
"I recognise you," he spoke in their native tongue, freaking out Bracha as she now knew it was not only her so she couldn't be making this up.
Sensing her distress, eh took her wrist and gently guided her out. Paul's gaze following them until they disappeared behind the door.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
