( it's a biting declaration, paul thinks — words with teeth. you create a world in which you can never be happy, and he wonders if that could possibly be true. not the reality of the statement but the create part of it — you made it this way, paul atreides, god emperor, messiah to the fremen, foretold legend of yore. when the history books and feigned prophecies from false gods have written his name, they won't make note of his smile, his happines, his love. they will say muad'dib was great, that he conquered, that he was revered and feared by the followers on his new world order.
but he did experience love for a time. didn't he? it's a collective of things — being here, outside of the world and time he knows, rooted in spot, usul to his name. it's that alina has permitted him in the months since arriving to feel anything but the crushing weight of thousands of lives on his shoulders — to live selfishly, wholly, for the two girls in front of him now. it doesn't feel wrong, even knowing the burn of alina's anger and hurt as he does now. he couldn't reject either of them, it isn't in him. it's that despite the distance between all three of them now, paul would still choose the unknown with them here than the prophesied future at home. )
But I do want to marry you. ( he looks a little offended alina might think otherwise. and then, he looks thoughtful. ) But ... I do want to marry you.
( having his soul knotted up with alina's doesn't sound bad at all. and more to the point: he doesn't want to marry alia. she's his sister, his captive, his like mind when it comes to rejection of the bene gesserit sisterhood's tactics. he doesn't need to marry her to prove he loves her — it's written in the genetic code of her veins, woven bloodlines like the tapestry of an old family history.
alina? alina needs proof. alina needs constant reassurance, constant work, but paul loves the work and finally feels an independent sparkle of hope taking root in him, back where it belongs. he catches her fingers in his, turning her hand over until it's palm side up. he lifts his opposite hand, to show off his chunky ring. )
I know I've broken your trust. I'm sorry for that, and I'll work hard to fix what I've broken. But you still have mine — wholly, entirely. ( he looks up at alia briefly, because it seems like the kind of thing he should get her okay on. isn't he tossing out the future she knows carelessly, by having this with alina? but, no. he is muad'dib. it has to be his choice. he thumbs off his signet ring, a ring that's been on his finger since the day he stood before the fremen and promised them their green land, a ring that still bears the imprint of the padishah emperor's kiss, and puts it in alina's palm. ) This was our father's ring. Given to him by my grandfather, given to him by my great grandfather. The Atreides House has been a powerhouse family since the Butlerian Jihad, and this ring is almost as old. ( he curls alina's fingers around it, too big for her to wear. ) It's all I have of him. I'd be honored if you protected it, as a symbol of my love for you, of my intention to marry you. ( he leans in, politely kisses the corner of her eye. ) I'll become Paul Muad'dib Starkov, if it pleases you, my wife.
( he loves his father and his father's name, but leto was the kind of father people only ever dream of having — he always saw him as paul first, and his heir second. losing the last name isn't a hard thing to do. in fact, it's freeing, like anxiety inducing responsibility is only a no, i don't think so away. )
We have our own customs. ( his gaze lifts to alia again. nodding. ) Do you want to embarrass me and tell Alina what the blue ribbon I put in her hair means?
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but he did experience love for a time. didn't he? it's a collective of things — being here, outside of the world and time he knows, rooted in spot, usul to his name. it's that alina has permitted him in the months since arriving to feel anything but the crushing weight of thousands of lives on his shoulders — to live selfishly, wholly, for the two girls in front of him now. it doesn't feel wrong, even knowing the burn of alina's anger and hurt as he does now. he couldn't reject either of them, it isn't in him. it's that despite the distance between all three of them now, paul would still choose the unknown with them here than the prophesied future at home. )
But I do want to marry you. ( he looks a little offended alina might think otherwise. and then, he looks thoughtful. ) But ... I do want to marry you.
( having his soul knotted up with alina's doesn't sound bad at all. and more to the point: he doesn't want to marry alia. she's his sister, his captive, his like mind when it comes to rejection of the bene gesserit sisterhood's tactics. he doesn't need to marry her to prove he loves her — it's written in the genetic code of her veins, woven bloodlines like the tapestry of an old family history.
alina? alina needs proof. alina needs constant reassurance, constant work, but paul loves the work and finally feels an independent sparkle of hope taking root in him, back where it belongs. he catches her fingers in his, turning her hand over until it's palm side up. he lifts his opposite hand, to show off his chunky ring. )
I know I've broken your trust. I'm sorry for that, and I'll work hard to fix what I've broken. But you still have mine — wholly, entirely. ( he looks up at alia briefly, because it seems like the kind of thing he should get her okay on. isn't he tossing out the future she knows carelessly, by having this with alina? but, no. he is muad'dib. it has to be his choice. he thumbs off his signet ring, a ring that's been on his finger since the day he stood before the fremen and promised them their green land, a ring that still bears the imprint of the padishah emperor's kiss, and puts it in alina's palm. ) This was our father's ring. Given to him by my grandfather, given to him by my great grandfather. The Atreides House has been a powerhouse family since the Butlerian Jihad, and this ring is almost as old. ( he curls alina's fingers around it, too big for her to wear. ) It's all I have of him. I'd be honored if you protected it, as a symbol of my love for you, of my intention to marry you. ( he leans in, politely kisses the corner of her eye. ) I'll become Paul Muad'dib Starkov, if it pleases you, my wife.
( he loves his father and his father's name, but leto was the kind of father people only ever dream of having — he always saw him as paul first, and his heir second. losing the last name isn't a hard thing to do. in fact, it's freeing, like anxiety inducing responsibility is only a no, i don't think so away. )
We have our own customs. ( his gaze lifts to alia again. nodding. ) Do you want to embarrass me and tell Alina what the blue ribbon I put in her hair means?