The whole time Bracha was present in the meeting room, Paul's eyes didn't stray too far from her.
He knew her, as weird as that sounded, it was true.
Paul had seen her future so many times, her own being heavily intertwined with his.
Each morning he would wake up with a start from his dreams - or premonitions as his mother liked to call them.
They would run agger one another, tripping in the plains of sand as laughter erupted from them. He always seemed to find himself kneeling next to her, doubled over breathlessly as his hand clutched his side as the beginnings of a stitch made itself known.
Paul would find himself gazing upon her at each and every action she completed. Whether jt was brushing brushing hair from her eyes or twirling around and dancing her heart to a stupid song the Fremen learned when young. He adored it all.
Even when awake He would find himself daydreaming about Bracha who unknowingly had stolen his heart away.
So, when he saw her for the first time he was utterly speechless. Should he say something? What if she didn't get the dreams? And as on character for him, he stayed relatively quiet.
Though when Bracha turned to leave he couldn't help himself from speaking. He wanted her to stay for longer, they had only just met and it was ending all too soon. Hell, they hadn't even said a word to one another.
Unfortunately for him Stilgar did the speaking and declined his invite. However, Bracha turned around and looked directly at him. He would be aged if it wasn't for her expression.
A mixture of horror and confusion.
Paul found himself becoming anxious, his mind buzzing around with self deprecating thoughts. Did she hate him? Did she have the war ridden dreams just as he did? What if one of them he had hurt her? What if he did something unforgivable?
Even hours agyer the meeting he still worried. Even when maids entered and exited. Even when he was given a stillsuit and told to put it on. Even as he stood outside with everyone else in their own stillsuits.
So when he was asked a question it took him a moment to process it. He was so far into his own head thag his senses had become jarbled messes he couldn't decipher.
"Sorry?"
"You've worn a stillsuit before?" Kynez (the imperial biologist) queried.
"This is the first time," Paul answered, gazing down at his attire, scrutinising it to figure out what she was referring to.
"Your desert boots are efitted slip-fashion at the ankles," she circled him, inspecting the suit Even further, " who taught you to do that?"
"It seemed the right way."
Kunes looked upon him, looking slightly suprised. She muttered to herself in Chakobsa (her native language), " He shall know your ways as though born to them."
It was a section of the prophecy, familiar to them all.
Paul studied her curiously.
"Are you fremen?" He asked.
"I am accepted kn both sketch and village," she nodded her head," but I remain an out-worlder in the Emperor's service. Now come and see the spice ands on which your livelihood depends."
She swiftly turned and began leading them to the orinithopter as Leto and his son shared a glance.
Nearing the entrance to her home, Bracha stopped and looked at Stilgar.
"I can't go in there," she confessed.
"Of course you can! It's your home as much as it is anyone else's."
"You know that's not what I mean," she hung her head low and turned from the sietch, "I can't go in there now this prophecy bullshit has come back around."
"Bracha-"
"No!" She turned around, her clothes whipping around with her, "I know you believe in it but now that he is here my role in the prophecy will be all I am, all that I am worth. I can't go back to that."
Stilgar sighed, his eyes flickering to and from each grain of sand in the sand dune they currently stood upon as he thought.
After a few moments of silence he seemed to give up on whatever he was contemplating on saying.
"Alright," He turned to face her, "but at least grab some supplies before you leave."
"I'm not goin in there," she laughed to herself, "they wouldn't let me leave. The prophecy being way too important," she rolled her eyes.
"Then I will get you some."
Around 15 minutes later Stilgar came back outside with a small bag of necessities. A water container, a device to collect water form other people, a slightly stale wrap and their signature spice and rice concoction they ate daily.
Bracha nodded her head to him in respect, "I'll see you soon."
Stilgar laughed and gave her arms a gentle squeeze to comfort himself at the thought of her leaving on her own, "You will. Take too long and I'll come find you myself."
Smiling to herself, Bracha turned around and began walking towards the vast desert and away from her home. Throwing a wave behind her to Stilgar, she pulled out her thumper and slammed it into the ground.
The device activated and she climed up a sand dune.
There she stood, grapped out and her arms stretched outwards. Her knees slightly bent and her eyes focusing on the sand worm rapidly approaching her .
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