Irulan Corrino always knew she'd marry for political reasons, not for affection.
She didn't know she'd fall in love with Paul Atreides, but she did, and perhaps she's doomed to suffer a lifetime of watching the man she loves -her husband- love and...
Another contraction hit her, and she couldn't do much but scream after that.
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As soon as her son's cries rang out, Paul burst back through the doors so forcefully that they slammed shut behind him.
"How are they?" he demanded. "Are they alright?"
Irulan was panting, leaning back as far as was possible in the birthing chair. "Your son is fine."
He moved over to her and took her hand, lifting it up to kiss it tenderly. "And you, my love?" he asked, kneeling down and pressing another kiss to her knuckles. She was too weak to pull herself away; her muscles wouldn't listen to her no matter how hard she tried.
"I'd be much better," she panted softly, "if you weren't here." He smiled at her, almost apologetically, and kissed her hand again. "But I'm too tired to kill you right now." Then, as loudly as she was able, she said, "somebody take me to a clean bed."
Her eyes slid shut of their own accord, and she only vaguely registered being gingerly picked up.
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Her bedroom was dark when she awoke.
"I know," came the soft voice of her husband followed by the gurgle of a baby. "You're absolutely perfect, you know," he said. "Though I do wish you looked a bit less like me and a bit more like your mother, because I'll likely get to see you more often than I do her."
The child gurgled again. "Yes, I know," Paul agreed. "But I'm afraid I fell in love with her much later than she did with me, and I wasn't the best husband at first, you see, so she rather hates me now."
The baby was silent.
"You're right," he continued anyway, "it is absolutely your father's fault. Of course she hates me."
More silence.
"That's true," Paul murmured thoughtfully. "You don't truly appreciate things until they're gone, do you? But I got to be with her some, at least. And I got you, which is wonderful."
