…to say a few pagan rites?
Before I claim her.
I am not afraid.
Nothing to say, Atreides?
Perhaps you’ll answer this.
So you see, Atreides?
Your death, fool.
The poison will stop your muscles,
and my knife will finish you.
It’s over…
…Cousin.
Irulan.
You cannot stop this thing.
The spice must flow.
You see her standing there,
so haughty, so confident.
Let us hope she finds solace
in her writing and her books.
She’ll have little else.
She may have my son’s name,
but it is we…
… the ones who carry
the name of concubine…
… that history will call “wives”.
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