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...
He smiled softly at her. "I miss all of you, too."
And return they did.
Ghanima was ecstatic with this development, though she hardly remembered her first home.
Little Leto was perfectly content wherever he was, though he grew increasingly attached to his father (and increasingly similar to him in appearance).
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In the three months since Irulan had returned to the palace with the children, Paul had done a great deal of staring.
Staring at Irulan, that is.
He stared at her when she fed Ghanima. He stared at her when she wore her hair loose. He stared at her when she had it up in braids. He stared at her when she put the children to sleep. He stared at her when she ate meals. He stared at her when she smiled. He stared at her when she laughed.
The man stared at her all. The. Time.
In particular, however, he stared at her when she interacted with little Leto. Whether she was holding him, playing with him, practicing walking with him— anything at all, Paul watched her with eyes so blue they were unnerving in the way that they glowed.
He wasn't even shy about it. Not remotely. In fact, whenever she caught him (which was very often indeed), the small smile he'd been wearing turned into a grin, and he almost always found some excuse to talk to her.
He'd given her a great many new gifts upon her return, too, though she hadn't needed them.
He took good care of her, and of the children.
Unfortunately, in one particular instance, this meant he'd shoved them into the nursery when a potential assassin had made their way into the palace.
"Hush, it's alright," she reassured Ghanima gently, rocking both children to and fro in her arms as Lady Jessica watched on in worry. Little Leto didn't much care, content as he was to gnaw on his fingers, but Ghanima was two and questioned everything.
It was hard to say how real the danger was, exactly, but her husband had insisted upon handling it himself, like an imbecile.
"Majesty," one of her handmaidens gasped as she pushed the nursery door open, her palm on her heaving chest. "The emperor, he—"
"What's happened?" Irulan demanded, her back straightening as her mother-in-law's eyes widened. "Is he alright?"
"I just saw him," the girl told her. "He— he was covered in blo—"
Irulan didn't let the girl finish, thrusting little Leto into her arms and motioning for Ghanima to sit with her grandmother.
Lady Jessica looked like she was about to object, but Irulan gave her no opportunity to do so.
"I'll send someone when it's safe," she told the pair and hurried off.
Please be alright, she prayed. Please, Paul. Please.
