Ariste, my child, my pride, my own, was born on a razor’s edge, and I held the blade. Leto desired a son. The Sisterhood commanded me to use my bodily discipline to ensure a daughter. Do I obey my love for my Duke or my duty to the Bene Gesserit? Do I take my part in an ancient genealogical plot leading to the Kwisatz Haderach, or do I have the audacity to accelerate that plan and shorten the way?

Anything outside ourself, this we can see and apply our logic to it. But it’s a human trait that when we encounter personal problems, these things most deeply personal are the most difficult to bring out for our logic to scan. We tend to flounder around.

In the end, I chose a daughter. But it was the nearest choice I’ve ever made, teetering on an edge one molecule thick. We can know no love or joy greater than that for our Ariste, yet I cannot help treading and retreading such a profound, binary decision. In the small hours I wonder what shape the universe would be if I had chosen otherwise.

Understand, we all love our Ariste, ever since she was a precocious young thing stealing books, far ahead of her age, from her parents’ private library like a saucy little magpie. But blessed be, that girl could talk to you about your favorite subject ‘till you contemplate suicide. I can think of only one time Ariste was at a loss for words.

You know of what I speak. The forthcoming nuptial. Atreides and Harkonnen peacefully gathered. Ariste and her betrothed. Feyd-Rautha was all charm that day. Then… the spectacle. Feyd makes a big show of fighting a Salusan Bull in honor of the Old Duke. Yeah…

What that man did to that animal… I’ll never profane anyone’s ears by putting it to words. Poor Ajax puked up his own guts, and that man is a butcher! Hmm… No. No, I don’t think I can finish my supper now. Goodnight.

I’m torn. Off balance. Just when I feel myself coming into my own, competing forces and institutions crowd around to dictate my life. The Bene Gesserit. My father and House. The War of Assassins does incalculable damage to Atreides ideals, to the people of this planet. I’ve seriously considered the offer Zantara (I won’t write his true name here) made me — to repudiate the actions of the Imperium and remake my life in the desert with him and the Fremen.

And now, the arranged marriage with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. The revulsion! Yet the Sisterhood commanded it. It could save my father and House from this conflict that erodes everything good in them. I was ready to run away, when a meeting was arranged. I must admit, Feyd was… charming. Not at all what I expected.

Tomorrow, there will be a formal gathering. Feyd promises something special, a spectacle to honor my grandfather. Despite myself, I’m somewhat looking forward to it. One thing haunts my mind, though I try to banish it — Zantara’s disappointment.