Duke Leto's study smelled of spiced coffee and old parchment. The rain pounded against the armored window with an arrhythmic rhythm, like anxious fingers seeking entry.
Leto stood by the window, gazing at the dark sea. His reflection in the glass looked weary, aged more by worry than by time. Lady Jessica sat in a dark leather armchair, her hands clasped together with a tension that her Bene Gesserit training barely concealed.
Gurney Halleck stood before them, with the rigid posture of a soldier who must deliver bad news, even though there had been no defeat.
"Paul is progressing as planned," Gurney said, his deep voice breaking the silence. "He has his mother's reflexes and, if I may say so, his father's stubbornness. His shield-handling is fluid. He's a good fighter. Human. Predictable within excellence."
Leto rose, but did not turn. The mist from his breath slightly fogged the glass.
"And Valerio?" he asked. The name hung heavy in the room.
Gurney hesitated. He ran a hand over his scarred jaw.
"Valerius..." Gurney searched for the words. "My Duke, my Lady... I have trained men for thirty years. I have seen prodigies. I have seen born killers. But the boy..."
"What happened in the hall today, Gurney?" Jessica interrupted. Her voice was soft, but sharp.
"He destroyed a military-grade Holtzman generator," Gurney confessed, his gaze falling to his boots. "Don't touch it. Don't overload it with speed. He simply... touched it. And the shield died. As if he had given it the order to cease to exist."
Leto turned slowly. His face was in shadow.
"The last thing?" the Duke asked. There was a regretful anxiety in his voice, a genuine father's concern. "Did the blast burn him?"
"Not a scratch, my Lord," Gurney replied incredulously. "The unit exploded in his face. I have first-degree burns on my waist. He... his skin was cold to the touch seconds later."
A heavy silence fell over the three of them.
"He's not learning to fight, my Lord," Gurney concluded, his voice dropping to a whisper. "He's learning to hold back. I feel that every move he makes is a calculated lie so he doesn't break us. So he doesn't break the castle. So he doesn't break the world."
Leto waved his hand dismissing his weapons master.
"Thank you, Gurney. Leave us."
As the heavy wooden door closed, the Duke's mask fell away. He slumped into the chair across from Jessica, covering his face with his hands.
"What are we doing, Jessica?" “We treat him like a strategic asset,” Leto murmured, his voice cracking. “I keep my distance. I barely look him in the eye during dinner.”
Jessica stood and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. She felt the pain too. The maternal love was there, fierce and deep, but buried beneath layers of primal fear.
“We love him, Leto,” she said, trying to convince herself as much as he was. “But…”
“But we’re afraid of him,” Leto finished, looking up. His eyes were moist. “I’m afraid of my own son. When I held him at birth, I felt that weight. And today… Gurney says he’s holding back. Do you realize how lonely that must be? To be five years old and have to take care of the whole world with your own strength?”
Jessica walked to the fireplace, where a low fire consumed damp pine logs. She stared into the flames. She remembered the nights she would enter the twins' room. Paul slept with the soft breathing of a child. Valerius... Valerius sometimes simply lay there, his eyes open in the darkness, his skin emitting that faint golden glow, his mind buzzing with equations that she, even with her Bene Gesserit training, could not comprehend.
She wanted to hug him. She wanted to tell him everything would be alright. But every time she got close, she felt that otherness. A biological and mental barrier that screamed at her: Beware. This isn't human. This is a god in chrysalis.
"We protect him with our distance," Jessica said, turning her back to the fire. "If we show him weakness... if we treat him too gently, he might forget his own strength. And if he forgets his strength, he could accidentally kill us all in an embrace."
"It's cruel," Leto said, clenching his fist on the arm of the chair. "He's a child who needs a father. And I act as his commander."
"It's necessary," Jessica replied, though a single tear betrayed her composure, rolling down her cheek. "Paul is the future of House Atreides, Leto. But Valerius... Valerius is something else. Something the Brotherhood never planned for. Something the universe isn't ready to receive."
Leto stood up and walked back to the window. The rain had intensified.
“Sometimes I think he knows,” Leto said softly. “I think he knows we love him. And I think he knows why we can’t get close. And that… that breaks my heart more than anything. He’s forgiving us for our fear.”
Outside, in the darkness of the Caladan night, a flash of lightning illuminated the sky.
In his room, far from the study, Valerius lay awake. With his superhuman hearing, he listened to every heartbeat of his parents, every whispered word, every tear that fell.
And he understood. His cold, technological logic grasped the equation of fear. But his heart, the only part of him that remained desperately human, ached in the silence.