for this bonus round, the theme is competition! pretty open-ended, prompts that are about some sort of competition! this round will end on july 31st!
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PROMPT: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
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FILL: TEAM [TEAM NAME]
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PROMPT: Team Webcomics/Webtoons
Date: 2024-07-17 05:56 am (UTC)FILL: TEAM ROSEMARY
Date: 2024-07-31 07:37 am (UTC)Irulan's first year on Arrakis is a lonely one. Having been bestowed such a great responsibility by her father, it falls on her shoulders to ensure that spice production, and by effect all interstellar travel, remains running as smoothly as possible, she throws herself into her work. Hardly any time remains for her writing, not when the consequences for any one mistake are so dire. It is a great burden, balancing the galaxy on her shoulders, but one she is privileged to carry. By the end of the year, production is more efficient than it has ever been. She is the cornerstone of the known universe. She feels like a shell of herself.
The princess reasons that she has exhausted herself with checks and balances. It is better to sharpen an axe than continue a task with a dull one, so she arranges for a vacation, or the closest thing one of her status can have. She departs the northern side of the planet with minimal guards, her book of writings in hand, to establish good relations with the Fremen.
It is far from a relaxing experience, but Irulan had not sought that impossible ideal. In the camps on the border between north and south she finds tangled knots of human conflict to pick at as she records them in her book. She discusses politics with their leaders, debates religion with their Holy Mother, and is even allowed to watch a worm-riding once. All of this, she is aware, is shown to her through the lens of a guest whose presence is more tolerated than honored. Another tangle in the knot for her to pick apart.
She is traveling on foot the first time they meet. Irulan had thought she was alone, having excused herself for a moment of privacy to clear her head. But as she moved across the desert sands, she felt a presence watching her.
"Your sand-walking is terrible," the woman watching her is about her age, and that is all they have in common. It is clear at a glance that she has been shaped by these lands, and she regards Irulan's offworld ways with disdain. "Too rhythmic."
"I'd thought it was passable," the words leave Irulan's mouth before she fully thinks through how ridiculous it is to tell that to a Fremen. She voices her regret, and the woman smirks.
"Try it like this," she moves closer, demonstrating her own sand-walking, and they spend a considerable period of time moving across the desert sands together.
The woman's name is Chani Hynes, and she is a thing of the desert. Irulan seeks out her company the next day.
"You're always arguing with people," says Chani.
"Debating," Irulan corrects her.
Chani rolls her eyes and asks "Why?"
"A well-kept mind is one that is always being put into practice," Irulan replies. "It's better to test out different methods of persuasion in calmer circumstances than be forced to experiment in an emergency."
"So are you hoping to convince someone or be convinced?"
"Neither. Just to gauge how people respond."
"You're not thinking of any of this as an exercise, are you?" asks Chani. "I don't think bantering with your hosts who'd love a bit more respect from your father will do much for you when everything starts to go downhill for the next emperor."
"You think House Corrino's luck will sour soon?"
Chani shrugs. "We were told for a long time that someone else would be sent to govern Arrakis. We've seen many come and go."
Irulan studies Chani's face. She's watching something else off in the distance, her eyes fixed on something in the desert scenery that Irulan cannot fathom.
"What would you do if you were in my place?" Irulan asks.
"Bold of you to assume I'd ever trade places with you," even Chani seems briefly taken aback by the brashness of her words. A beat passes, and Irulan breaks out into unexpected laughter.
"I'm not offended! I understand, the Fremen's place on Arrakis is different than anyone else's."
"Especially yours," Chani's gaze loses its edge, and a hint of a smile appears. "Still, I can't say it'd be too bad to have one of us govern our own planet, for once. Maybe just for a day, we should trade."
They continue their conversations every day, Irulan asking Chani for her opinion on the state of so many things the Fremen woman has never seen, telling her in exchange of so many things she can hardly fathom, such as oceans and rain. It is always Irulan who seeks out Chani, until the day when it is time for her to return to properly governing Arrakis. That day, when the ship lands on the sands and waits to pick up Irulan, she finds Chani waiting for her outside the door.
"I hope I'll see you again," Irulan tells her.
Chani smirks at her. "If you're still here."
Irulan's second year on Arrakis is not so lonely. She settles into more of a rhythm as the days pass, making time for her writings and her work. Despite the planet's desolate appearance, there is new material to write about constantly. Rumors creep in about the state of the wider galaxy. New feuds are brewing and old ones reawaken. Her father sends word to be prepared. Surveying her work over the endless waves of sand, Irulan finds that it all feels so distant.
She takes a fistful of sand one day and lets it run through her fingers. Then she takes it inside and fashions an hourglass from it, placing it at her desk as a reminder. No one outlasts the desert.
Arranging for a second visit to the Fremen is simplicity itself. This time, Irulan brings gifts. She listens to their leaders and their children, carefully considering their words when she asks them what they would change if they had the power. Of course, she had not been unaware of the discontent of many of the Fremen. But now Irulan feels as though she is sitting upon a tightly wound spring, a host of untapped energy that only needs the slightest help before it lashes out.
Chani and her go out for walks in the twilight hours, when the desert obliges them with a brief window between extreme temperatures. They bring each other snippets of their life up to this point, a lyric of a nursery rhyme, a hazy memory from an unpleasant family gathering, a description of an old childhood toy, and they sit on the sand dunes to watch the winds blow.
"What're you writing about?" one evening they're ostensibly watching the sun set, although Irulan is jotting down a few notes in her book and Chani is watching her.
"People," Irulan replies, not looking up. "Just my thoughts and observations."
"Right, never could've guessed that," this gets Irulan to look up. Chani's watched her write before, it simply isn't a subject they've broached before.
Irulan chews on the end of her writing utensil before responding, a habit she only indulges herself in when in privacy or around Chani. "My father claims tensions are rising between two houses- the Atreides and the Harkonnens. It has been some time since I met either one in person, so it's useful to reference my old notes."
"It sounds serious if your father's asking you for help," notes Chani.
"It might not be, he is rather fond of tests."
There must be something in her face that tells Chani that Irulan is uncertain, for she immediately changes the topic. "Have you got anything about Stilgar in there?"
"Stilgar, yes," as she flips through the pages of her writing, Irulan feels a bit of the tension leave her body, an almost unwilling reaction. "Here we go. A very persuasive, important figure. Also very circular."
"Circular?"
"Have you ever tried to convince him of anything? He only thinks in circles."
They both share a laugh at that.
"How about me?" Chani asks. "Have you written about me?"
"Yes, a few things," says Irulan. She flips through more pages, it doesn't take long to find thoughts on Chani. "Sharp-tongued. Opinionated. Insolent."
"It does not say that! Let me see."
"I'm afraid it does," Irulan smirks and keeps her writings out of Chani's reach. "It's a small wonder you haven't been left out as food for the worms by your people."
Chani pushes her on the shoulder playfully. "Sorry to not live up to your standards, majesty."
"Well, the imperial life certainly wouldn't suit you. But I think any ruler would do well to have you as an advisor."
"Hmm?"
Irulan's voice takes on a different tone. She lowers her gaze for three seconds, the perfect amount of time to shift the mood of the conversation without losing its flow, then looks back up to Chani. "You're honest, and you've got a keen eye for uncovering the true meaning behind grandiose speeches. Bribes would be ineffective on you. Disapproval would do little to hamper you. If you somehow landed yourself in the world of politics, well, you'd be a gem in the rough."
"You're laying the flattery on a bit thick, don't you think?"
"Maybe, but part of the joy of this game is seeing you react."
"For what it's worth, you'd make a terrible Fremen."
"And for what it's worth, I wasn't lying about how well you'd do in court."
This next moment- this is one that Irulan has been laying the groundwork for carefully- is key. She has prepared the perfect sequence of events in her mind that would catch Chani's attention, subtly let her know where Irulan's interests lie, even if it would be unthinkable to say so aloud, and thus move their game into a different sequence.
But then, of course, Chani does what Chani always does. She surprises Irulan.
Chani leans in and kisses Irulan on the lips.
Surprised, Irulan pulls back. She sees Chani frowning, tilting her head. The other woman says "I thought you were..."
"No, I- I am!" Irulan exclaims. Dammit, what happened to all that composure she had a moment ago? This woman makes her feel like a stray sliver of ice in this desert planet. Her eyes dart around, checking for any stray silhouettes on the horizon. There are none.
This time it is she who initiates the kiss. Chani's lips are rough, chapped by the heat and sun and wind. Irulan's are comparatively soft, but still toughened by the unforgiving Arrakis environment. She has known far gentler, more expertly delivered kisses in her time, stolen by princes and dukes in the shadows of her father's court. This is by far the best she's had.
Both of them are moving their bodies closer together, but now it's Chani who's pulling back. "What's wrong?"
"I am the emperor's daughter," Irulan can feel Chani's breath on her face. "Someday, my hand will be given to the future emperor, and I will bear his heirs. Are you certain you would have me?"
In response, Chani kisses her again, this one longer and more passionate than both that came before. "Yes."
Irulan leaves the Fremen again, but the nights before she does are warmer than any that came before. Her third year on Arrakis passes in a blur. She sets up more ambitious projects to increase spice production and works tirelessly to see them through. The planet finds itself in need of more workers soon, and so they are sent, and with them comes more news. The situation beyond Arrakis worsens. At the end of every day, Irulan pens a letter to her father outlining various trains of thought she has had on what might be done, no matter how late her work lasts. Then she writes another letter to Chani, writing out poems, telling old anecdotes from her life, and in the darkest hours of the night, writing around the outline of a confession. What is not there should speak for itself. After that, she places the letter in a safe box and goes to sleep in an empty bed.
By Irulan's fourth year on Arrakis, she simultaneously feels that not enough time has passed to celebrate a four-year anniversary, and that she has spent an eternity on this place. She has opened new positions in her operation for the Fremen, relying on their advice and soldiers in exchange for degrees of greater freedom. There are grander changes she is considering, designs for massive overhauls that would take resources she has at her disposal and time she may soon not. And one day, Chani arrives along with a Fremen security team.
"You've been busy," is what Chani tells her when they finally find a moment alone in Irulan's chambers.
"It seems I haven't been the only one," observes Irulan. "How many fights did you have to gain respect from the rest of the Fedaykin?"
"Enough," Chani peels her shirt off, revealing a number of new scars across her skin. "That's not the question you really want to ask, though, is it?"
Their conversation takes a very different form soon afterwards.
Irulan's fourth year on Arrakis is the best she's had. There are bumps in spice production, but her skill in her position is unquestionable. Chani visits quite often, and they spend hours together. She reads Irulan's letters lying on her bed, Irulan's arm draped over her, and they tell each other wild fantasies in the early hours of the morning. Swimming in a lake. Discovering the perfect solution to the House rivalries. Living together.
Irulan's fifth year on Arrakis is when it all falls apart. Despite everything, despite the Emperor's efforts and the Bene Gesserit's machinations and Irulan's advice, civil war besieges the empire. House Atreides and House Harkonnen have escalated their rivalry into battle, dragging everyone they know into their escalating conflict. The blood used to feed the machines of war could flood the pools where the Fremen keep their dead.
And then, in one fell swoop, it's all over. The Harkonnens bring House Atreides to its knees, killing Lady Jessica and Duke Leto in the Emperor's throne room, humiliating him. One of the Atreides daughters will marry na-Baron Feyd-Ruatha to produce the Kwisatz Haderach. And the Baron Harkonnen himself, he will have Irulan's hand in exchange for her father's life.
Chani and Irulan meet one last time, after the Baron's coup but before the wedding. In the dead of the night, Chani somehow reaches Irulan's room despite the armed guard, and she pulls her out of bed and into a tight embrace.
"Come on, there's no time," Chani starts to tug Irulan away.
"No." But Irulan stays where she is.
The look on Chani's face is incredulous. "What're you doing? More guards will arrive at any moment."
"And if we manage to escape? Then what? Do you think the Baron will allow my father to live? Do you think that he will let the Fremen go unpunished for the disappearance of his betrothed?"
"So what, you're just going to sit in the Harkonnen's lap, then? You'll just give up?" Chani accuses her with fire in her voice.
"I will be the closest person in all the empire to the new Emperor," Irulan tells her. She has to swallow before she can continue. "I'll- I'll lay the groundwork for his destruction. Everything I will do, every life I take and every deed I perform in the name of House Harkonnen, it will all be to one day topple them. And you must be the one to lead the Fremen when the day comes to bring them down, but you cannot do that if you are a prisoner here. Understand?"
Irulan thinks back to those days long ago, when Chani teased her over thinking that her debates would be any kind of a measure of success of how she would stand on her own. Now, she can only hope that Chani remembers the game they played with each other well enough to survive now that they find themselves at the center of the game of politics once again.
In the dark it's difficult to read Chani's face. How dearly Irulan wishes she could see it clearly, study its every detail one last time. But she can't, and time is running out, so she kisses Chani for the final time.
The Fremen warrior tastes strongly of spice. When they break off their kiss, she doesn't say anything to the princess. She simply spits on her face, then turns and escapes before the guards can arrive without looking back once.
Irulan has always known that Chani belonged to the desert. But in this moment, as she heads to her new life in a familiar place, she wishes she could belong to her.
Irulan's sixth year on Arrakis is a cold one.