[it’s a delight to alia, to see someone she knows to be strong, to be capable, humble himself so sweetly. the men of arrakeen were many things, but gentle was not often one of them – to be fremen is to be constantly on guard, constantly ready to fight or die. arrakis sears away any weakness, anything soft. the only exception, the only who stayed soft and sweet: paul. always paul.

there is something of her brother (the boy he’d been, the one here in saltburnt, not the man she’d last seen before arriving in this place) in gale, alia decides, warming even more to him, her cheeks rosy, lips curled in her fondest of smiles.] They did, yes. They called me the star, told me I would comfort, would soothe with my words and my deeds. A very noble fate.

[but the attendant is bringing back the enormous, floppy-limbed stuffed bear, and alia’s face is brighter than the sun above arrakis, her arms spread wide, embracing the djungelskog with all her might and very nearly toppling over from her perch. beaming around the plush belly of the toy, she flashes all her teeth at gale in a shining arc of pure delight.] I find I prefer the future you’ve woven me, Gale. Tell me more, what do you see with your keen eye and your scorn of clowns?