This City, The Ruins in Its Heart [Dune] [St Alia]
Title: This City, The Ruins in Its Heart
Author: bantha_fodder / Pen
Fandom: Dune
Rating: G
Prompt: 7. How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone. -- Coco Chanel.
Summary: Alia is just as she was created, and more.
***
"Alia," her brother calls her name, and she claws for release. "Hello, Sister," he says, his voice familiar, affectionate, and though the light of Ararkis is too bright for her newborn eyes, she knows her brother's voice.
Alia smiles.
**
She sits on the bed, her feet swinging. "I want to help you," she says.
"You should play, Alia, while you still can," her mother says, fastening her scarves.
"The children hate me," Alia replies. "They call me names."
"Children can be cruel, Alia," her mother says, kneeling down until they are face to face. "Try to remember that they are not like you, and they cannot understand what you have been through."
"I don't want to understand," she says to her mother's back, and follows her out the door.
Her mother does not send her away.
**
She is preborn, adult before her time, and the children of the sietch are not her friends. Abomination, they declare, harbinger, coan-teen, words they can barely pronounce, let alone understand, and if she were on any other planet her eyes would well with tears, and she would leak water for her childhood.
She is Fremen, though, and she conserves her water.
Cultivates her anger.
**
"Alia," he says. "Are you scaring the others?"
"They are stupid," she replies. "It is not difficult."
"No," he replies, "But you are a duke's daughter, Alia."
"Does that mean I must stop?" She looks up, meets her brother's eyes.
"Use a softer hand, Alia." He smiles at her, and gradually, she smiles back.
Her brother always understands.
**
She teaches little Leto, five years her junior, born with ease by Chani. She speaks to him in tongues; he laughs, but does not understand her words.
"Alia," Harah says, "Stop speaking nonsense to Leto, or he will never learn to speak."
Alia presses her lips together. Of course she did not expect her brother's servant to understand.
**
Alia sips the Spice, closes her eyes. She sees her bloodlines, stretching out behind her, and the bright, flashing red of her grandfather's line.
She opens her eyes. She knows the role that she must play.
**
"Grandfather," she says, stabs him with the gom jabbar. She laughs as he dies, and the Reverend Mother shies away.
"Abomination," the Reverend Mother says.
Alia just keeps laughing.
Later, Feyd Ruatha Harkonnen nothing but water at their feet, her mother wraps her arm around her.
"Jessica, what have you done?" the Reverend Mother asks.
"I did what I had to," Jessica explains. "I did what was needed." Her voice is urgent, a soft request for forgiveness.
The Reverend Mother turns away.
Alia is not surprised. The old bitch never changes.
**
She presses her ear against the door, jumps back as it opens. "Alia," Korba says, "My lady, you must not listen where Muad'Dib has not invited you."
"I must hear," she says. Her mother comes to the door.
"These deliberations are not for you, Alia," she says, and her mother's betrayal is like a slap to the face.
She turns away.
**
She treads the streets, and when she closes her eyes she thinks she can see the city that will grow up around her, the city that her brother will grow into.
When she opens her eyes, it disappears, but she knows what she saw, and looks forward to seeing it again.
**
The children run to her. "Is it true you killed the Baron?" they ask.
"I did it to save my brother," she says, "And I did it for me," and they cheer.
**
Her brother tucks her in, lies beside her on the ridiculously large bed and tells her stories she did not live. Once, he makes a mistake, a dragon where none could have been, and she starts at the memory. "No, Brother," she says, and when he goes to deny her he meets her eyes.
"What do you think of this issue with the treaties?" he asks, quietly. A test.
"You must not sign them," she says, urgently. "We cannot be made to look weak."
"Sister, you know my mind." He kisses her forehead, a benediction, a promise. "I would consider it an honour if you were to join me in Council from this day."
Alia grins.
She is eight.
**
Her mother takes supplicants; Reverend Mother, they whisper, and they are not afraid.
Alia watches from behind the curtain of her hair; wonders when she left her hijab behind.
**
She sits at the long table, writing. She pauses, criticises her letters: sprawling, messy, inefficient. She starts again, concentrates on teaching her body a skill that her mind already knows, and her letters are tight, and economical; more practical for the desert.
"You have a very interesting style, Alia," the Princess Irulan comments. "Your tutors-"
"Don't mock me," Alia snaps. She looks up, meets Irulan's eyes. Irulan looks wounded, and Alia thinks, of course.
After Irulan has gone, Alia smiles.
**
In Council, her brother talks while Alia watches. "There will be no fighting, he says."
"My Lord," Stilgar says. "We are Fremen. Would you have us leave the desert, too?"
"Yes, Stilgar, we are Fremen." Korba leans forward. Alia blinks, thinks perhaps she can see the light of belief in his eyes. "And Muad'Dib has shown us the way. Would you deny all that he has taught us?"
Irulan is her brother's scribe, scribbles words on parchment for her brother to read.
Alia keeps her own counsel.
**
Her mother blinks. "You must concentrate."
"Mother," Alia says, her voice high, reproachful. "I know."
Her mother holds still, leaps forward; but Alia is not there.
Alia is preborn. Of course she knows the Weirding Way.
**
She walks the streets of Arrakeen, her brother by her side. "Muad'Dib," she hears, love and adoration, and her brother smiles. He stops, looks fondly on as Chani holds hands with an old woman.
"Curse the name of Atreides," she hears, and as a man she has never seen before leaps towards her brother, a knife in his hands, she moves, wrestles the knife from the hands of the assassin.
Slides the knife home.
It is the first time her name, her brother's name, is used as a curse.
It is not the last.
**
In the silence of her rooms, she takes the Spice. Never again will one such as he be invisible to her.
Never again will one such as he threaten her brother.
**
She is the knife, and she will protect Muad'Dib.
END
Author: bantha_fodder / Pen
Fandom: Dune
Rating: G
Prompt: 7. How many cares one loses when one decides not to be something but to be someone. -- Coco Chanel.
Summary: Alia is just as she was created, and more.
***
"Alia," her brother calls her name, and she claws for release. "Hello, Sister," he says, his voice familiar, affectionate, and though the light of Ararkis is too bright for her newborn eyes, she knows her brother's voice.
Alia smiles.
**
She sits on the bed, her feet swinging. "I want to help you," she says.
"You should play, Alia, while you still can," her mother says, fastening her scarves.
"The children hate me," Alia replies. "They call me names."
"Children can be cruel, Alia," her mother says, kneeling down until they are face to face. "Try to remember that they are not like you, and they cannot understand what you have been through."
"I don't want to understand," she says to her mother's back, and follows her out the door.
Her mother does not send her away.
**
She is preborn, adult before her time, and the children of the sietch are not her friends. Abomination, they declare, harbinger, coan-teen, words they can barely pronounce, let alone understand, and if she were on any other planet her eyes would well with tears, and she would leak water for her childhood.
She is Fremen, though, and she conserves her water.
Cultivates her anger.
**
"Alia," he says. "Are you scaring the others?"
"They are stupid," she replies. "It is not difficult."
"No," he replies, "But you are a duke's daughter, Alia."
"Does that mean I must stop?" She looks up, meets her brother's eyes.
"Use a softer hand, Alia." He smiles at her, and gradually, she smiles back.
Her brother always understands.
**
She teaches little Leto, five years her junior, born with ease by Chani. She speaks to him in tongues; he laughs, but does not understand her words.
"Alia," Harah says, "Stop speaking nonsense to Leto, or he will never learn to speak."
Alia presses her lips together. Of course she did not expect her brother's servant to understand.
**
Alia sips the Spice, closes her eyes. She sees her bloodlines, stretching out behind her, and the bright, flashing red of her grandfather's line.
She opens her eyes. She knows the role that she must play.
**
"Grandfather," she says, stabs him with the gom jabbar. She laughs as he dies, and the Reverend Mother shies away.
"Abomination," the Reverend Mother says.
Alia just keeps laughing.
Later, Feyd Ruatha Harkonnen nothing but water at their feet, her mother wraps her arm around her.
"Jessica, what have you done?" the Reverend Mother asks.
"I did what I had to," Jessica explains. "I did what was needed." Her voice is urgent, a soft request for forgiveness.
The Reverend Mother turns away.
Alia is not surprised. The old bitch never changes.
**
She presses her ear against the door, jumps back as it opens. "Alia," Korba says, "My lady, you must not listen where Muad'Dib has not invited you."
"I must hear," she says. Her mother comes to the door.
"These deliberations are not for you, Alia," she says, and her mother's betrayal is like a slap to the face.
She turns away.
**
She treads the streets, and when she closes her eyes she thinks she can see the city that will grow up around her, the city that her brother will grow into.
When she opens her eyes, it disappears, but she knows what she saw, and looks forward to seeing it again.
**
The children run to her. "Is it true you killed the Baron?" they ask.
"I did it to save my brother," she says, "And I did it for me," and they cheer.
**
Her brother tucks her in, lies beside her on the ridiculously large bed and tells her stories she did not live. Once, he makes a mistake, a dragon where none could have been, and she starts at the memory. "No, Brother," she says, and when he goes to deny her he meets her eyes.
"What do you think of this issue with the treaties?" he asks, quietly. A test.
"You must not sign them," she says, urgently. "We cannot be made to look weak."
"Sister, you know my mind." He kisses her forehead, a benediction, a promise. "I would consider it an honour if you were to join me in Council from this day."
Alia grins.
She is eight.
**
Her mother takes supplicants; Reverend Mother, they whisper, and they are not afraid.
Alia watches from behind the curtain of her hair; wonders when she left her hijab behind.
**
She sits at the long table, writing. She pauses, criticises her letters: sprawling, messy, inefficient. She starts again, concentrates on teaching her body a skill that her mind already knows, and her letters are tight, and economical; more practical for the desert.
"You have a very interesting style, Alia," the Princess Irulan comments. "Your tutors-"
"Don't mock me," Alia snaps. She looks up, meets Irulan's eyes. Irulan looks wounded, and Alia thinks, of course.
After Irulan has gone, Alia smiles.
**
In Council, her brother talks while Alia watches. "There will be no fighting, he says."
"My Lord," Stilgar says. "We are Fremen. Would you have us leave the desert, too?"
"Yes, Stilgar, we are Fremen." Korba leans forward. Alia blinks, thinks perhaps she can see the light of belief in his eyes. "And Muad'Dib has shown us the way. Would you deny all that he has taught us?"
Irulan is her brother's scribe, scribbles words on parchment for her brother to read.
Alia keeps her own counsel.
**
Her mother blinks. "You must concentrate."
"Mother," Alia says, her voice high, reproachful. "I know."
Her mother holds still, leaps forward; but Alia is not there.
Alia is preborn. Of course she knows the Weirding Way.
**
She walks the streets of Arrakeen, her brother by her side. "Muad'Dib," she hears, love and adoration, and her brother smiles. He stops, looks fondly on as Chani holds hands with an old woman.
"Curse the name of Atreides," she hears, and as a man she has never seen before leaps towards her brother, a knife in his hands, she moves, wrestles the knife from the hands of the assassin.
Slides the knife home.
It is the first time her name, her brother's name, is used as a curse.
It is not the last.
**
In the silence of her rooms, she takes the Spice. Never again will one such as he be invisible to her.
Never again will one such as he threaten her brother.
**
She is the knife, and she will protect Muad'Dib.
END