The transition into the Spacing Guild's Heighliner was a sensation of suspended time. Inside the massive vessel, the Atreides frigate was a mere speck, held in a cavernous hold that felt more like a cathedral than a machine. The hum of the Holtzman generators was a constant, low vibration that seemed to rattle the very bones of the ship.
In the heart of the guest quarters, the air was pressurized and cool, but the atmosphere inside the Princess's bathing chamber was thick with the scent of rose-water and steam.
Anastasia sat in the center of a sunken marble basin, the water swirling around her waist. At ten, she looked almost ethereal, her petite frame so delicate that she seemed carved from the finest Caladan ivory. Her damp, golden hair clung to her narrow shoulders like spun silk.
Jia knelt at the edge of the tub, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows. The twenty-year-old maid's movements were practiced and steady, but inside, her blood was a riot of heat and devotion.
"The ship feels very strange, Jia," Anastasia whispered, her voice small and sweet against the echoes of the tiled room. She reached out and traced a pattern in the rising steam. "It feels like we are in between worlds. Is Arrakis really as bright as the pictures?"
"Brighter, Little Star," Jia murmured. She took a silk sponge, soaking it in the warm water before gently pressing it against Anastasia's shoulder.
As Jia's hand moved over the girl's skin, a wave of intense, sweltering heat crashed through her. It wasn't the steam of the bath; it was the Influence. Touching Anastasia was like touching the center of a star—a pull so magnetic and "pure" that it made Jia's head swim. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, yandere-like rhythm. She felt a desperate, almost painful need to wrap her arms around this small, "naive" creature and never let her go.
"You're shaking, Jia," Anastasia said, turning her head. She reached up with a small, wet hand and touched Jia's cheek. Her eyes were full of a soft, innocent kindness. "Are you scared of the big ship? Don't be. Paul says we're safe."
The touch of Anastasia's cool fingers against Jia's flushed skin was almost too much to bear. Jia's breath hitched. To the rest of the universe, Jia was a cold-blooded killer, a shadow of the Silent Hand. But here, under the gaze of a ten-year-old girl, she felt like she was melting.
"I am never scared as long as I am with you," Jia managed to say, her voice thick with a dark, possessive loyalty. She took a silver comb and began to pull it through Anastasia's golden hair, her fingers lingering on the strands. "I was just thinking... how much the desert people will want to see you. And how I will have to be very, very careful to keep them away."
"Why?" Anastasia tilted her head, looking petite and confused. "If they have no water and no flowers, they must be very lonely. I want to be their friend."
Jia's eyes darkened, her grip on the comb tightening just a fraction. The thought of those "sand-dwellers" even looking at Anastasia's face made a murderous fire ignite in her chest.
"Friends are dangerous, Little Star," Jia whispered, leaning in so close her breath stirred Anastasia's damp hair. "They want to take. They want to hold. But you... you belong only to the Atreides. You belong to the Shadow."
Anastasia just giggled, the sound like silver bells in the humid room. "You're so silly, Jia. I belong to myself! But I'll let you stay close, because you're my favorite."
Jia's world narrowed down to that single sentence. My favorite. The heat inside her reached a fever pitch, a silent, yandere vow sealing itself in her soul. She didn't care about the spice, the Emperor, or the Duke's war. As the Heighliner folded space, jumping across the galaxy toward the burning sands of Arrakis, Jia remained in the steam, obsessively brushing the hair of the girl who had unknowingly conquered her heart.