Rin accepted Derek's answer with a small inclination of her head. Refugees and survivors were work she understood. Guiding frightened people through unfamiliar or dangerous ground, finding those who had become separated from others, keeping someone calm enough to put one foot in front of the other when everything around them had fallen apart, those were things she knew. Healing came with its own limitations, but she could do enough to matter when someone was hurt and help was scarce.
It was the particular way Derek described the rest of what she could offer that made her pause.
A guide. A rescuer. A musician.
Her golden eyes remained on him for several seconds longer than they otherwise might have. Those weren't things she had told Derek. They hadn't come up over breakfast, and she couldn't remember Muad saying them aloud either. Yet Derek had spoken them with the easy certainty of someone who already knew.
Rin's attention slowly shifted toward the man beside her.
After everything Marta had explained, the answer wasn't particularly difficult to find. Derek and Muad had their own bond, one that had existed long before Muad had crashed into her life, and apparently information could travel through it without either brother consciously deciding to share it. The realization didn't frighten her. It did, however, make her suddenly and painfully aware of just how many things Muad knew about her now, and how many memories she would rather not have wandering accidentally into the mind of his older brother.
Especially after the pavilion had already become breakfast conversation.
I hope you're able to keep some things private.
The thought traveled toward Muad with dry affection, although the warmth creeping into the tips of her ears undermined whatever dignity she might have hoped to preserve. She gave his hand a small squeeze beneath the table before returning her attention to Derek.
"Then that's where I'll help." Her voice carried no hesitation. There were questions she could ask later about where, when and how, but the decision itself required very little thought.
"When you know where people are going to need me, tell me."
Derek's advice to enjoy the time they had settled differently.
For a moment, Rin found herself looking at Muad again.
Time. It had been a constant subject since Veradune, measured in years and centuries, in the lives Marta and Chek had shared and all the lives they had buried along the way. Rin had spent so much time worrying about how quickly everything between her and Muad was happening that she had almost forgotten how quickly it could all be interrupted. Somewhere beyond this house, governments were preparing for war. Muad would go when the call came. She knew that without needing to ask him, just as surely as she knew she would help wherever she could.
Days or weeks suddenly didn't sound particularly long.
That realization settled heavily beneath her ribs. There were still so many things about Muad she didn't know, so many pieces of his life she had only begun to glimpse, and for the first time Rin found herself resenting the possibility that something beyond either of their control might steal away the opportunity to discover them naturally. She didn't want to rush simply because war was coming. She didn't want fear deciding the pace of whatever existed between them any more than she wanted the Force deciding it.
She simply wanted the time to find out.
His immediate attempt to offer Asil an
antique rescued her from dwelling on it, and Rin hid a laugh behind her caf as she looked between the brothers.
"I'm beginning to think introducing either of my sisters to this family without warning them first would be cruel."
Her amusement remained as Derek politely declined the implied matchmaking, but it gradually faded as he explained why. His reasons were sensible. His life was complicated. He was old. He had already experienced what others might want from life several times over, and asking someone else to share the burdens that came with that longevity would be unfair.
Then he said he was content, and Rin watched him over the rim of her cup as something inside her quietly ached. She didn't believe him.
Perhaps she might have accepted it if she hadn't seen that brief fracture in his composure, the longing that appeared and disappeared so quickly she could almost convince herself she had imagined it. Then Muad reached across the table and took his brother's hand, and the bond between the brothers betrayed what Derek himself would not.
The loneliness reached her before the images did, and what struck Rin hardest was how
old it felt. This wasn't the sharp loneliness of someone newly abandoned or grieving. It had been carried, folded away and lived around until Derek knew exactly where to put it so that no one else would see. Through Muad came fleeting impressions of women Rin didn't know, faces and feelings without enough context for names, stories or endings. She didn't reach for any of them. They weren't hers to examine. The emotion beneath them was enough.
For one brief moment she wanted to say something, but Rin stopped herself.
There were wounds that became more painful when someone noticed them before you were ready to admit they existed. Derek had not offered this one to her. It had escaped through a bond he couldn't entirely control, and acknowledging it aloud would only strip away the privacy he had tried so carefully to preserve.
So Rin lowered her gaze to her breakfast and gave him the dignity of pretending she hadn't seen anything at all. She did, however, keep her sisters in mind.
Not because Derek needed to be
fixed. Rin disliked the thought almost immediately. Loneliness wasn't a problem solved by placing another person in front of someone, and neither Asil nor her older sister existed to repair a stranger's heart. Still, Derek's insistence that the door was firmly closed sounded considerably less convincing now.
Perhaps one day she could simply arrange for one of them to meet him. Nothing more than that. No expectations and certainly no announcement from Muad about ancient brothers and available sisters. If anything happened afterward, it would belong entirely to them.
If there is a future.
The thought came quietly and took some of the warmth from her amusement. War was coming. Derek had just told them as much. Whatever Rin might imagine for anyone months from now depended upon all of them reaching those months first.
Muad's presence pressed warmly against hers through the dyad, and Rin instinctively tightened her fingers around his.
You just can't help yourself, can you, ner dala?
The unfamiliar words brought her attention fully back to him.
Rin's ears twitched as her golden eyes slid toward Muad. She didn't know what
ner dala meant. Mando'a, presumably, but the language was his, not hers. The warmth accompanying it through the dyad told her considerably more than the words themselves did. Whatever he'd called her, it had carried affection with it, along with something deeper that made heat begin creeping into the tips of her ears.
She could have asked.
The question nearly crossed the bond before Rin caught it. Asking Muad what an unfamiliar phrase meant seemed particularly unwise when he was wearing that expression, and she had learned enough about him to suspect his explanation would somehow leave her considerably more embarrassed than she was already.
Perhaps she'd ask someone else later. Or perhaps she wouldn't. There was something unexpectedly pleasant about having a little mystery left between them. Her thumb moved slowly over his knuckles.
No, she answered, letting her amusement and affection travel back through the dyad instead.
Apparently I can't.
She listened as the conversation shifted briefly toward Atrisia and the pair of space stations, and the contrast almost made her laugh. Only moments earlier they had been discussing war, relationships and things measured in centuries. Now Muad casually approved the construction of something enormous before returning to his caf as though Derek had asked whether he wanted another piece of bacon.
Rin had spent most of her life measuring problems in roads and people. How far until the next settlement. How many wagons had fallen behind. Whether everyone had enough water. Whether the child with the fever would make it until morning. Whether the trail ahead remained safe. The brothers measured things in worlds.
There was something intimidating about that difference when she allowed herself to think about it too long. Muad belonged to a life of senators, armies, clans and governments. Rin belonged to roads, camps and people whose names rarely appeared anywhere important.
Yet his hand was still holding hers beneath the table. Perhaps the scales didn't matter as much as she thought.
When Derek turned his attention back to her, however, Rin discovered that apparently his final task before leaving was to systematically explain why becoming involved with his brother was a terrible idea. She listened without interrupting as he presented the evidence, and the worst part was that she couldn't exactly disagree with any of it. Muad
was a mess. The number of enemies he had accumulated was apparently impressive even by the standards of someone who had lived a thousand years, and his complete inability to remain away from danger had already become painfully apparent.
After Batuu, Rin could probably contribute examples.
Her gaze moved toward Muad while Derek continued, and affection slipped unexpectedly through the exasperation. In the short time she had known him, Muad had nearly died with such enthusiasm that keeping him alive could reasonably qualify as a full-time occupation. Their first meeting had begun with a crash, continued with violence and ended with him in a hospital. Somehow, things had only become more complicated afterward.
Normal was not a word Rin would ever use for him, but normal had never been something she particularly wanted.
Derek's reminder that the dyad didn't require them to become anything more than they chose struck deeper. Rin's humor faded as she looked at their joined hands. Marta had told them the same thing. The bond wasn't a command. It wasn't destiny reaching into their lives and forcing them down a particular road.
That mattered to Rin more than she had realized.
Because when she looked at Muad now, she wanted to know that the warmth in her chest belonged to
her. That the way she sought his hand without thinking was because
she wanted to touch him. That she had stayed beneath the willow because
she hadn't wanted the night to end. That every mile after Batuu had happened because two people who should have said goodbye had instead found reasons to keep walking toward one another.
Whatever this became, she wanted it to be theirs.
Then Derek welcomed her into the family. The words caught Rin completely unprepared, tightening something beneath her ribs before it loosened so suddenly that she had to draw a quiet breath. She hadn't known she needed his acceptance.
Not permission. Never that. Her choices concerning Muad were hers, just as his were his. But Derek was his brother. After nearly a thousand years, there couldn't be many people left who knew Muad as Derek did. Rin had watched them insult each other, needle old wounds, laugh, argue and communicate entire conversations without speaking. Beneath all of it was a love so old that neither seemed to need to acknowledge it.
And Derek was telling her there could be a place for her beside them if she chose it.
The relief that washed through Rin was startling in its intensity. For one dangerous moment it made everything feel more real. Not the dyad. Not visions of distant possibilities or the image hidden beneath her shirt on Chek's medallion. Something much simpler and, somehow, far more tangible.
A family opening a door.
Her golden eyes softened as she inclined her head toward Derek, and when she smiled, there was no teasing left in it.
"Thank you."
Two words were enough. Anything more might have revealed considerably more than she was ready to say aloud, especially when she and Muad hadn't even kissed. There were still so many miles between
this and whatever future might someday justify Derek's welcome.
But for the first time, Rin wasn't quite as frightened by the distance.
Then Derek offered stories Muad wouldn't want told, and the emotion threatening to overwhelm her found a much safer place to go. Mischief returned immediately, brightening her golden eyes as she glanced toward the man beside her.
"I'll have many questions." Her gaze lingered on Muad just long enough to make her intentions perfectly clear before she looked back to Derek.
"And I'd like to hear anything you think Muad doesn't want me to know."
A brother with nearly a millennium of embarrassing stories was far too valuable to waste.
"See you tonight, Derek."
Rin watched him walk away, and her amusement slowly softened into something more thoughtful as he disappeared down the corridor. The loneliness she had felt still lingered faintly in her memory. She wouldn't mention it. She wouldn't tell Muad she had noticed, either. Derek deserved to decide for himself whether that part of him was ever discussed.
But she had two sisters. Her lips curved around the edge of her cup.
There would be no matchmaking. Rin absolutely refused to call it matchmaking. Perhaps, someday, one of her sisters simply happened to visit while Derek happened to be nearby. If they spoke, that was their business. If nothing happened, then nothing happened. Perfectly innocent. Rin took another drink of caf, increasingly pleased with a plan she was absolutely not making.
The thought helped return some warmth to the room after everything Derek had said about war. She finished the remainder of her breakfast slowly, unwilling to rush simply because Muad apparently had an itinerary waiting for them. There might be weeks before the Sith moved. There might be days. For once, Rin didn't want to spend the time they had worrying about how much remained.
She wanted today. More than that, she realized she wanted what today represented.
Veradune had been hers. She had brought Muad into the world that had shaped her, let him sit beside her fire and walk beneath familiar trees. He had met her family, eaten at their tables, stood in Chek's forge and listened to Marta speak of things Rin had grown up knowing. Muad had been allowed to see pieces of her that couldn't have been explained aboard a ship or exchanged through conversation. He had seen where she came from.
Now the direction had reversed.
Olanet was unfamiliar to her, but it wasn't unfamiliar to Muad. Somewhere beyond those glass walls was a world he knew well enough that he already had plans for what he wanted her to see. There would be no Marta or Chek accompanying them, no family gathered around a table and no larger purpose demanding her attention. Just Muad and Rin. The thought settled into her with a warmth she didn't bother resisting.
For the first time since they'd found one another again at the festival, they would have a world to wander with no one else beside them. He could show her the places he knew, tell her why they mattered or simply take her somewhere because he thought she'd enjoy it. She had spent so much time sharing roads with strangers, families and caravans that the prospect of exploring one with only him felt strangely intimate.
Not physically intimate. They still hadn't even crossed the distance of a kiss. This was something quieter. She wanted to see his world through his eyes.
Then Muad told her what he intended to do with their day.
I aim to get you wet today.
Rin's fork stopped halfway to her mouth, and her golden eyes rose very slowly to meet his.
The clarification about swimwear came quickly enough, but not before warmth swept violently through her ears and cheeks. The kiss against her temple only made it worse, though the indignation she attempted to summon dissolved beneath the affection of the gesture and the sheer excitement she could feel pouring from him.
A laugh escaped before she could stop it.
"You really need to work on the order you put words in."
There wasn't much reprimand behind it. Rin finished the last bite and chased it with what remained of her caf, but she stayed seated for another moment, her gaze wandering beyond the glass. They had arrived through a storm so violent that darkness and rain had swallowed everything outside. She had gone directly to bed without knowing what surrounded the house and awakened on a world that remained entirely unknown to her.
Normally, that alone would have been enough to send her exploring. Today, the unknown world wasn't what stirred the little thrill of anticipation beneath her breast. It was knowing Muad would be beside her.
She understood a little better now why showing him Veradune had mattered. A home wasn't merely a place. Sometimes it was a collection of memories, favorite paths and small things nobody would ever notice unless someone who loved them pointed them out. She didn't know whether Olanet was
home to Muad in the same way Veradune was to her, but it was part of his life, and he was offering to share it. Rin wanted that.
She wanted a day without battles or dying, without ancient crystals, warnings about the dyad or conversations about what might happen centuries from now. She wanted to walk beside Muad somewhere he knew and she didn't. She wanted to listen to whatever stories came with the places he showed her. She wanted to discover what caught his attention when there wasn't a crisis demanding it.
And, perhaps most of all, she wanted to know what the two of them were like when there was nobody else around. Just Rin and Muad, another unfamiliar road, and however many miles they could fit into a single day.
The realization left a soft smile on her face as she pushed her chair back and rose. War could come tomorrow. Their questions about the dyad could wait until tonight. Derek could disappear into his offices, and her entirely hypothetical plans involving her sisters could remain hypothetical for at least a few hours.
Today belonged to them.
Rin turned toward Muad, the twinkle returning to her golden eyes with an eagerness she made no attempt to hide.
"Ready."
Muad Dib