Disclaimer: Not mine
A.N: Farad'n is my hero. Based on the book, but that's basically the same as the mini-series where this is concerned anyway.
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It took time. The history books say otherwise, they say it was instantaneous, having been altered by the romantics of the universe. Nevertheless, it took time. Leto's excuse that he had his own breeding program planned was logical enough, but there were plenty of others with the genetic qualities to suite Ghanima. He just knew the undeniable fact, they were a good match, his sister and the Corrino heir.
It began as hours together pouring over historical manuscripts. Ghanima fueled by the desire to know more about the lives of the entities inside her mind, and Farad'n for no reason other than the past interested him.
On a winter day when Ghanima was seventeen years old, he realized that he no longer joined her in the Imperial library everyday simply for his educational pursuits. But because the thought of not being in her presence caused his insides to constrict in a most painful way.
Two years earlier, long after his eyes were the permanent indigo, Leto took him into the deep, deep desert, where a recent sensus had estimated only three hundred makers still lived, and had Farad'n call and mount a worm. Having succeeded with only minor injuries, Leto presented him with water rings, labeling him a proper fremen.
It was the winter day two years later that he asked Ghani to wear his rings in her hair. She accepted.
There were children. There were grandchildren. There were sporadic holidays on Caladan and spontaneous jaunts into the reseeding desert, where the lovers took only their stilsuits and crysknives.
There were whispers of love and soft things. There were years of contentment and simple pleasure.
It took time, but there was love. And that was enough.
A.N: Farad'n is my hero. Based on the book, but that's basically the same as the mini-series where this is concerned anyway.
**************************************************************************** **********
It took time. The history books say otherwise, they say it was instantaneous, having been altered by the romantics of the universe. Nevertheless, it took time. Leto's excuse that he had his own breeding program planned was logical enough, but there were plenty of others with the genetic qualities to suite Ghanima. He just knew the undeniable fact, they were a good match, his sister and the Corrino heir.
It began as hours together pouring over historical manuscripts. Ghanima fueled by the desire to know more about the lives of the entities inside her mind, and Farad'n for no reason other than the past interested him.
On a winter day when Ghanima was seventeen years old, he realized that he no longer joined her in the Imperial library everyday simply for his educational pursuits. But because the thought of not being in her presence caused his insides to constrict in a most painful way.
Two years earlier, long after his eyes were the permanent indigo, Leto took him into the deep, deep desert, where a recent sensus had estimated only three hundred makers still lived, and had Farad'n call and mount a worm. Having succeeded with only minor injuries, Leto presented him with water rings, labeling him a proper fremen.
It was the winter day two years later that he asked Ghani to wear his rings in her hair. She accepted.
There were children. There were grandchildren. There were sporadic holidays on Caladan and spontaneous jaunts into the reseeding desert, where the lovers took only their stilsuits and crysknives.
There were whispers of love and soft things. There were years of contentment and simple pleasure.
It took time, but there was love. And that was enough.