[ post driftfleet ]

[precedented]

[ It's been a few years since Leto left the Fleet. He had expected it to come and finding himself back on Arrakis hadn't been a shock. Ghanima, of course, was unhappy that he seemed to have vanish once more, but they had both learned to cope with the realities of their distance, the fate that hung above them. Still, he soothes her anger the best he can while Farad'n watches balefully.

Life goes on. Even on Dune.

And yet, it feels empty. Stalled. Leto knows this is the perception of time. How it has taken a hold of him and won't let go.

He fiddles with the ring as he heads out into the desert. No one asks. No one questions the God Emperor. So he walks the dunes, alone, under the careful gaze of the moon and its little muad'dib. ]