Petrichor| (Paul Atreides x Fem! Percy Jackson)

Chapter 11: Rule #2 of Fight Club - You Don't Talk About Fight Club

            Duncan had been with us for several weeks now and he had become a trusted friend and confidant. Something about him screamed trustworthy and dependable like I could choose no better person to put my faith in. It probably also helped that Chani liked him so much, even though they continued to coyly dance around each other, each hoping the other would be the one to cave.

Shishakli and I had to suffer through their little games as we playfully gagged at their obvious flirting. It mostly happened when the two were sparring; apparently, one-upping each other in a fight always seemed to make them fall harder for each other.

Duncan seemed to see me as a little sister he felt obligated to protect, and I saw him as a big brother whose back I could watch. I had never been the younger sibling, so it was a nice change, though I did scold him once claiming that I did not need his protection. He had then confided in me that I reminded him of his younger sister. He claimed that my strength of character and my loyalty reflected hers, though those two things were ultimately what had gotten her killed.

From then on, I allowed him to protect me as he pleased, knowing that I would act the very same if one of my siblings had been slaughtered as he described his sister's death.

One thing that stood out about me in Sietch, was that my eyes never did change into the blue-on-blue ones of the Fremen despite my diet nearly consisting of pure Spice the last two years. I assumed it had something to do with the strength of my demigod genetics, which nullified any substance that would alter my features. It could also be that Spice was mostly Ambrosia and the Eyes of Ibad were simply a side effect of mortals eating such a substance and surviving long enough for it to alter their appearance. I had no way of knowing for sure.

But Duncan had asked me about it one day, seemingly transfixed by their unique color among the Fremen. His eyes that day seemed to hold a deep recognition for them as if he had just remembered something he was supposed to do.

"That is my secret, as I am sure you have yours." I had answered. Duncan had quickly become fluent in Chakobsa, seeming to already know the language somewhat and merely needing practice. "Why did you ask?"

"Simply curious," he deflected.

I looked at him skeptically, "Like I said, I have my secrets and you have yours." The conversation ended there.

Today, the Fedaykin were practicing sparring; Duncan had been allowed to join as an honorary member of our ranks. I remained on the sidelines seeing as no one seemed to want to spar me, knowing the outcome of such a fight. So, I simply observed; someone would be willing to fight me sooner or later.

I overheard a conversation between Duncan and Chani as they sparred, as they usually chose each other to fight.

"You all fight like demons," Duncan panted, trying his hardest to gain the upper hand over the skilled woman.

"No," she disagreed, throwing several kicks and punches his way. "We fight like Fremen. If you want to fight a real demon, though, you could ask Persephone. There's a reason she has yet to step into the ring today."

I smiled at my friend hyping up my fighting ability; I wasn't nearly as good as she claimed, but every time I would argue, I would be shut down by anyone within hearing distance.

"Percy?" he seemed skeptical. "She doesn't look it. Or act like it. You must be lying to me."

I understood his doubts; he had never seen me fight. But I supposed that day was the day I would show him that I'm more than just his little sister who needs protection. I could hold my own.

"You don't believe me?" She sent a particularly powerful roundhouse into his shoulder which caused him to stumble sideways. "Then, offer to spar her. Don't hold back. Or no one will be able to save you." Chani then walked off to sip some water from the reserves of her stillsuit.