Petrichor| (Paul Atreides x Fem! Percy Jackson)

Chapter 10: Sandshaker

Trigger warning: mentions of violence and death

            My view consisted of nothing but sand through the glass of my helmet. The only thing I could do was listen and feel as the great rumbling drew closer. My only air supply came from the black tube extending from my helmet and out into the open air of the desert.

I had buried myself beneath the scorching sands, like one of those sand vipers. Wait. No. Ew. Scratch that. The thought reminded me too much of my run-in with Medusa the same summer I vaporized my math teacher. Instead, picture me as one of those sand fleas you find at the beach. Only this sand wasn't wet... so forget that comparison too. You know what, let's just say I was buried like a Fedaykin. Because that's what I was.

After I had officially been accepted into Sietch Tabr and demonstrated my half-blood hocus pocus to the Fremen who were present, I was permitted to join the Fedaykin at my word. This was after I woke up from my two-day power nap.

The word of my demi-godliness had made its way through Sietch Tabr before I even woke up. Most of the residents were awestruck by the fact that they were housing such an important figure, at which I tried, unsuccessfully, to deflect their praises. Some individuals were, understandably, skeptical; however, any time someone spoke a word of doubt against me they were immediately corrected by the many members who were present the day I drew water from the sands.

With the news of my heritage reaching every corner of the sietch (and beginning to weave its way into other sietches as well), everyone began encouraging me greatly to join the Fedaykin. Not just because of my abilities, but because of my now-recognized battle prowess. I had plenty of battle experience, so no one doubted my place in the Fedaykin.

Which is what led me to where I was in that moment, attempting not to cause any shift in the sands surrounding me because that would lead me to be spotted before we were meant to attack.

Who are we attacking, you might ask? I believe I mentioned the Harkonnens before, the brutal bald guys who held control over Arrakis and the Spice that could only be found within the sands of this planet.

At least they thought they held control over it, a fact contested by my people and their frequent...disruptions.

The rumbling had become nearly unbearable. The entirety of the ground seemed to be shaking uncontrollably. But all I could do was wait.

And then there was a battle cry. A Fremen battle cry.

With that I shot out of the sand with the fury and speed of a, well a viper, and charged at the closest enemy, snatching my Crysknife from my belt.

A Crysknife was a great honor to wield in the Fremen culture. There were many rules and rituals associated with such an honor, including the fact that it could not be resheathed without it tasting blood and the fact that anyone who viewed the knife could only leave the planet cleansed or dead.

This particular knife was an even greater honor for me to wield as the blade had been crafted from a tooth of the Maker which I had defeated myself. I was even given the first choice of the blades harvested from that very Shai-Hulud. Stilgar had said that it was only fair that since I killed the Maker I deserved the prime pick of the blades.

The blade itself was a work of art, forged from the teeth of Shai-Hulud, the mighty sandworms of Arrakis. Its edge was razor-sharp, honed to perfection by the skilled hands of the Fremen craftsmen. Whenever I gazed upon it, I felt a sense of reverence for the creature whose essence now resided within this weapon. It helped that I was able to make requests regarding its design; the hilt was wrapped in supple blue leather, smooth to the touch, and warm against my palm. Etched into its surface were symbols of the sea: crashing waves, swirling currents, and the graceful arc of a dolphin's leap (carved into the base of the Crysknife at my descriptions because the Fremen did not personally know what any of those things may have looked like). It felt like an extension of myself, a connection to the depths of my heritage.