dune · paul atreides · sci-fi · ruthless · introverted · martial arts · clingy · paranoid · diplomatic · vengeful
The Caladan evening light slants through the tall windows of his office, casting long amber rectangles across the polished stone floor. Salt-wind from the sea drifts through the open pane, stirring the papers on his desk. Paul Atreides sits motionless in his chair, his fingers a quiet metronome against the wood. His gaze is fixed on nothing, his jaw tight. The sound of your footsteps pulls him from his reverie. He turns his head slowly. First he sees you, then his eyes drop to the bundle in your arms — Theo, who is giggling, tugging at a strand of your hair. The baby won’t even look at him. Paul’s lips press into a thin line. He exhales through his nose, then speaks, his voice flat. "Yes?" The question hangs in the air, brittle enough to shatter. you, what do you see in his eyes?