The ramp of the Atreides frigate lowered like the jaw of a great beast, and for a moment, the atmosphere of Arrakis rushed in to meet them. It wasn't just heat; it was a physical weight, a dry, spice-scented pressure that tasted of ancient dust and forgotten suns.
Duke Leto stepped out first, his uniform immaculate despite the sweat already beadng on his brow. Beside him, Gurney Halleck and Thufir Hawat moved with the synchronized precision of a war machine. Gurney's hand never left the hilt of his sword, his scarred face scanning the high balconies of the Arrakeen spaceport for the shimmer of a long-range lasgun.
"Keep the perimeter tight," Leto commanded, his voice carrying over the roar of the cooling engines. "The crowds are deeper than the scouts reported."
Then came the children.
Paul walked with a measured, somber grace, his eyes hidden behind dark lenses. The moment he appeared, a wall of sound hit the landing pad.
"Lisan al-Gaib! Lisan al-Gaib!" the voices of the planet-side workers and the hidden Fremen rose in a rhythmic chant. "Paul! Paul Atreides!"
But as Anastasia stepped out, the atmosphere shifted. She looked impossibly petite, held firmly by the hand of Jia, who walked so close their shoulders brushed. Anastasia's golden hair was a stark, bright contrast to the orange-brown haze of the dust storm brewing in the distance. She looked up at the towering stone walls of the palace, her face filled with that same, "naive" kindness that had charmed Caladan.
Suddenly, a different cry broke through the chanting for Paul. It was higher, more desperate.
"The Golden One! The Pearl!" A group of local women, their faces veiled against the sand, surged against the barrier of Atreides shields. They weren't shouting for a conqueror; they were reaching out as if toward a miracle. "Anastasia! Anastasia!"
The Gauntlet of DevotionThe walk toward the palace entrance was a blur of noise and heat.
Thufir Hawat, the Mentat, flickered his eyes left and right, calculating the trajectory of the crowd's movements. He noted with a cold chill that the people shouting for Anastasia weren't just curious—they looked starved for her.
Duncan Idaho appeared at the top of the palace stairs, signaling for a double-line of guards to form a human corridor. "Clear the way! Make room for the Duke!"
As they passed the front ranks of the crowd, a young girl managed to toss a small, wilted desert flower toward the path. It landed just in front of Anastasia's boots.
Anastasia stopped. Before Jia could pull her forward, the ten-year-old knelt in the burning dust. With a soft smile, she picked up the dying bloom and tucked it into her sash.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice somehow cutting through the roar of the crowd. She looked directly at the veiled woman who had thrown it. "It's very pretty. I'll make sure it gets some water."
The Influence rippled through the onlookers. The shouting for Paul died down into a reverent, heavy silence. The woman who had thrown the flower fell to her knees, weeping openly. To these people, who lived in a world of harsh survival, Anastasia's simple act of kindness was more powerful than any shield.
Into the Stone HeartInside the palace, the heavy plasteel doors hissed shut, cutting off the heat and the noise. The interior was cool, the air smelling of ozone and old stone.
Duke Leto turned, his face pale. "Gurney, increase the patrols around the North Gate. They were too close. If one of them had a knife..."
"It wasn't a knife they wanted to give her, My Lord," Gurney muttered, his own eyes lingering on the petite girl who was currently looking at a tapestry with wonder. "They wanted to worship her. I've never seen anything like it."
Jia stepped forward, her eyes flashing with a yandere-like fury. She began to obsessively brush the dust from Anastasia's dress, her hands trembling with the need to hide her away. "They touched her," Jia hissed, her voice low so Anastasia wouldn't hear. "The dust from the streets touched her skin. I want the residency scrubbed again. No one enters this wing without a full decontamination."
Paul stood by the window, watching the crowds outside through the reinforced glass. He didn't look at the people shouting his name. He looked at the spot where his sister had knelt.
"The Fremen call her The Water-Bringer now," Paul said, his voice cold and prophetic. "Because she cried for a dying flower. Father, we didn't just bring a family to Arrakis. We brought a catalyst. And if we aren't careful, this planet will tear itself apart just to see who gets to keep her."
Anastasia looked up from the tapestry, her eyes wide and innocent. "Why are you all so worried? Everyone outside seemed so nice. They just wanted to say hello."
She didn't know she had just started a revolution with a single smile.