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Something about protective Paul just does it for me 🫠

A Tiny Miracle

Author's Note: Went to see Dune part 2 last night and my brain hasn't shut off since. 🫠 This is just a tiny little Paul x Wife!Reader blurb set during the final fight scene.

"My lord."

Paul's eyes narrow after he hears Gurney try to get his attention. Shaddam seems to squirm, albeit reluctantly, under his narrowed gaze.

He glances over his shoulder to find Gurney holding a protective arm around you.

And the tiny little bundle in your own arms.

"Paul," You breathe, the sheen of sweat from your labors having already cooled on your skin, the blood still staining the lower half of your dress. "We have a daughter."

Paul is in front of you in an instant, cupping your face and hovering his other hand under your own that cradles the baby's head.

"You should be resting," He murmurs as he touches his forehead to yours. "You're exhausted."

"I'll let you do it next time, then." You tease as you close your eyes, content as he manages to peek down at her without relinquishing his touch on you. You had missed his presence during the birth but he had been occupied with the arrangements of this gathering. Your tired eyes look over his shoulder to see his Harkonnen cousin staring at you in particular and seemingly fascinated by your exchange with Paul.

"Her name?" Your husband asks fondly without looking away, his gloved fingers caressing her head of hair.

"I—" You shake your head, embarrassed, especially with everyone's attention directed at the three of you. "I haven't decided yet."

"That's okay," He assures, lips upturning as he presses his nose in your hair. He already knows what her name will be. "We have time."

You nod and someone directs you to sit down next to Jessica to rest. You've had your differences, it's true, but she seems to put those feelings aside when she smiles softly at you and the baby before surveying the scene before her.

Feyd-Rautha steps forward to begin the duel, pointing his blade towards Paul.

"I'm glad you got to see your child, Atreides. It will be your only chance."

Paul positions himself in a fighting stance, the black-toothed sneer Feyd directs at you sending a shiver down your spine, making you clutch your daughter closer to your breast. You wonder if it was wise for the Fremen to lead you here, to put the wife Muad'Dib front and center in front of the enemy.

He rakes his dark eyes over your blood stained dress, almost approvingly.

"Maybe I'll take your bride as a war prize when I win. I do love seeing a woman covered in blood."

Something dark passes over Paul's face at the threat. He can deal with threats to his own person, but you? He feels his own blood boil as the possibilities of this duel flash through his mind. A path, one that floods certainty through his veins, becomes as clear to him as the sands of Arrakis.

"May thy knife chip and shatter."

I would absolutely die to see more of Paul x wife!reader from a Tiny Miracle 🫶🏼 it was so lovely, thank you!

Author's Note: Glad you liked it! 🥰 I plan on writing more little blurbs like this that go along with A Tiny Miracle. 🫶🏻

Warnings: Not entirely canon-centric, mostly fluff, mentions of breastfeeding an infant

After the duel, the Fremen look after their Lisan al Gaib, treating his wounds and plying his torso with bandages. He wolfs down food and water, his appetite ravenous.

You had been on the verge of losing the contents of your own stomach when Feyd-Rautha had stabbed Paul. But while there there had pain in your husband's eyes, there was no fear. He stood at the ready.

He never looked more powerful to you than in that moment. Even the image of thousands of Fremen shouting his name in unison as he called them to war didn't compare.

Muad'Dib! Muad'Dib! Muad'Dib!

"Hey."

You murmur a noise of acknowledgment at your husband as he trails his fingers absently along your leg, covered by your slip and a thin muslin bedsheet. You're sitting up in bed, in the castle of Arrakeen, feeding your daughter. He lays on his side, peering up at the two of you with nothing but adoration in his face.

"I'm here," He says softly. "Not out there."

You sigh and nod, reaching to grasp his fingers. "I know. It's just been...a lot."

"There's more to come," He warns, eyes becoming unfocused. "Not today, but soon. And you can handle it, I know you can."

The prospect of him being able to forsee the future is still slightly unnerving but while you don't know all the details of it, you trust his judgment.

"Promise?" You ask softly.

He smiles and sits up, kissing your temple and looking at the baby. He stretches his pinky out and she grasps it with her tiny hand in a death grip. "I swear."

You nuzzle your face against his like a great big cat, feeling protective since his duel.

"She's so beautiful, isn't she?" You coo as the baby detaches from your nipple, her belly full and her eyes drooping. You adjust the strap of your slip back in place as you burp her, firm but gentle pats putting her to sleep.

"She gets it from her mother," Paul murmurs, eyes gleaming as you shoot him a look, making him snicker.

"The day you learn to take a compliment should be marked as a holy day."

"Oh, stop it." You chide half-heartedly, though you feel your heart squeeze with affection. "I've decided on a name."

"Tell me." His voice is laced with amusement as he watches you get up. He told you earlier he'd get you whatever you or the baby needed and he'd help you with caring for her, but clearly that was a losing battle.

"Yianna." You place her in the bassinet close by, easing back into bed. "I asked Jessica if she recalled any names from Leto's—well, your family tree. We thought the name of your great-grandmother seemed lovely."

All the documents and holophotography in the castle pertaining to House Atreides had been destroyed in the castle, so anything Paul and Jessica remembered about their house would have to suffice until he could access the Bene-Geserit's library.

It didn't matter, really. Everything he needed now was here, with him. His wife, his daughter. He had no need or desire to look through his family's past.

"It is lovely." He kisses your bare shoulder once you settle back under the sheets. "My father used to talk about her. He said she was always sneaking him sweets when his mother wasn't looking. She died when he was young."

The smile you grace him with is sad. "I would've loved to have met Leto."

"He would've adored you." Paul notes, pulling you closer. "He loved the arts. Could talk for hours about it."

You think about the man you've only seen from a half-charred portrait and wonder what it would have been like, seated at a table across from your father and mother-in-law, your hand clasped by their son and womb heavy with their grandchild.

Your own paradise. You dream of it as you curl up next to Paul, careful to not put much weight on his side wound. The sound of his steady heartbeat and the random gurgle of Yianna puts you to sleep.