The central market of Sietch Tabr was a labyrinth of shadows and spice-scented air, carved into the very roots of the mountain. Usually, it was a place of grim efficiency—traders bartering for moisture-seals, scrap-metal, and dried desert-mold. But today, the air felt charged, as if a storm were brewing beneath the stone.
Anastasia walked through the crowded cavern, her petite twelve-year-old frame draped in a shimmering, dust-proof silk of pale gold. Her beauty had become a legend in the week since her birthday; she moved with a "naive," ethereal grace that seemed to draw the very light out of the glow-globes.
Chani walked half a step behind her, a lethal sixteen-year-old shadow. Her crysknife was sheathed, but her hand hovered near the hilt, her blue-in-blue eyes scanning the crowd with a raw, yandere-like devotion. To Chani, every Fremen who stared too long was a potential thief of the "Pearl's" peace.
The Lesson of the Sand"Everything is so... brown here, Chani," Anastasia chirped, her Influence radiating outward as she stopped before a stall piled with jagged, rusted machinery. "In Caladan, the markets were full of green grapes and blue fish. Why do they sell broken metal?"
Chani stepped closer, her voice a low, fanatical rasp. "On Caladan, water was a toy, Little Star. Here, it is a god. These 'broken' things are the bones of the sky-carriages. We melt them to make the wind-traps that catch your breath and turn it back into life."
She pointed to a pile of shimmering, grey fabric. "On your world, cloth was for vanity. Here, a stillsuit is your second skin. If it fails, you are not a person anymore—you are only 'water for the tribe.'"
Anastasia reached out, her "naive" fingers brushing a heavy, weighted sash used for climbing the dunes. "It feels so heavy. My dresses used to be light like dragonflies."
"Weight is safety," Chani whispered, her gaze softening as she looked at the girl's radiant face. "The desert hates anything that is too light. It blows it away. That is why I stay close. I am your weight, Anastasia. I am the stone that keeps the flower from flying into the sun."
The Riot of the FaithfulAs they moved deeper into the market, the whisper began. "The Mish-mish... the Sweet One... the Pearl of the Atreides."
Young Fremen warriors, men who had killed Sardaukar without blinking, suddenly stumbled over their own feet. A crowd began to swell, a wall of gray stillsuits closing in. They didn't move with malice; they moved with a desperate, fanatical hunger to be near her kindness.
"She touched the water-flask of Harah!" one youth cried out, reaching a trembling hand toward Anastasia's golden cloak. "Bless us with a word, Goddess!"
The circle tightened. The air grew hot. Anastasia looked around, her "naive" eyes wide with a mix of wonder and growing alarm. "They're so loud, Chani. Are they angry?"
The Wall of Iron"BACK!"
The roar didn't come from Chani. Paul and Jia appeared from a side tunnel like twin wraiths of vengeance. Paul's face was a mask of cold, Duke-like fury, his hand already on the hilt of his blade.
But it was Jia who moved first. Her yandere-level jealousy exploded into physical action. She shoved a young warrior back into a spice-stall with enough force to crack the wood.
"You dare crowd her?" Jia hissed, her eyes black and lethal. "You dare breathe the air before it reaches her lungs? One more step and I will turn this market into a slaughterhouse!"
Paul stepped in front of Anastasia, his body a shield. "The Goddess is not a spectacle!" he commanded, his Voice vibrating through the stone. "Clear the way, or the Sietch will count its water by the gallon tonight!"
The crowd recoiled, terrified by the darkness in the brother's eyes and the madness in the maid's. Chani stepped forward, her blade now drawn, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Jia. The two girls—the desert warrior and the palace shadow—shared a single, murderous look of agreement: She is ours. No one else touches the light.
"Let's go back to the gardens, Anastasia," Paul said softly, his voice shifting from iron to velvet as he turned to his sister. "The world is too ugly for you today."
Anastasia nodded, her petite hand catching Chani's sleeve. "I'm sorry, Chani. I didn't mean to make them fight. I just wanted to see the metal."
Chani sheathed her knife, her fingers lingering on Anastasia's shoulder. "The metal can wait, Little Star. The desert will learn to look at you from a distance, or it will learn to go blind."