Disclaimer: I do not own Dune; it belongs to the great Frank Herbert. I only own a copy of the series, the prequel, the prequel to the prequel, and the Dune Encyclopedia.

Note: This story is set in Dune; House Harkonnen, by Brian Herbert (Frank Herbert's son) and Kevin J. Anderson, the second book in the prequel. This took place when Liet was I think around eighteen and Warrick the same age as him.

THE ONE I TRULY LOVE

Liet-Kynes stood on an outcropping of rock outside Red Wall Sietch and watched the sun setting over the horizon. It was a Fremen saying that sunset was the best time for contemplating important things.

That Warrick was dead had not yet fully registered in his mind. Maybe he just did not want to accept it. Thinking back on his blood-brother's condition before he died, Liet thought that maybe it was better that Warrick had left for the realm of shadows.

Curse that Coriolis storm! Liet closed his blue-within-blue eyes and tried to quell the tears that threatened to flow. It was a waste of moisture to cry. Liet repeated the Fremen admonition again and again in his mind but he couldn't help letting a small noise of anguish escape his throat.

Was it only yesterday that Warrick had partaken of the Water of Life? It seemed to have been years ago…The entire population of Red Wall Sietch had watched as Warrick, his face destroyed beyond all recognition, had convulsed, screaming his visions into the watching crowd.

Liet remembered how he had lost to Warrick to win the hand of Faroula in the mihna challenge that she had issued three years ago. He had been devastated at the loss but he suddenly realized that he had been more afraid of losing his best friend than losing Faroula.

How many times had his blood-brother rescued him during their razzia raids against the Harkonnens? Both of them had had their share of dangerous experiences and both of them had helped each other out of the situations. He owed Warrick his life and Warrick had owed his to Liet.

Liet thought back to the night three years ago near Splintered Rock in Hagga Basin, before Warrick had married Faroula. They had just finished raiding another one of the old botanical testing stations for valuable equipment. They had set up a shelter for protection against the heinali or man-pusher wind. Both of them had been teens, with their hormones raging and emotions running high. They had shared their fantasies about Faroula, each story causing Liet's body temperature to rise as he listened to Warrick describe what he would like to do to the Naib's daughter. From Warrick's ragged breathing, he could tell that his blood-brother also enjoyed listening to Liet.

What had happened between them had been a mistake, something born out of desperation and out-of-control hormones. Homosexuality was not really frowned upon by Fremen, only discouraged since their community valued children as a valuable resource for the reshaping of Dune.

But the memories where upon him again…clamoring to be remembered…

xxx

Sweat-slicked bodies slid against each other in the dark of the stilltent. Sharp-eared muad'dibs outside glanced at the tent, listening to throaty moans before going on with their lives.

Liet looked at his friend's panting form beneath him and pressed a hard kiss on Warrick's lips, crushing them together with almost bruising force.

"Liet…" Warrick rasped. "It…hurts…"

He gazed into blue-within-blue eyes and saw Warrick's desire mixed with pleasure and pain, turning them black. He kissed his blood-brother again and whispered soft words into his ear. "Breath with me, Warrick…Relax…"

Warrick did as he was told. Soon their bodies had established a rhythm that had Liet clutching at Warrick's shoulders and the latter's fingernails digging deep scratches down Liet's back. The wounds coagulated quickly and left red marks but Liet didn't mind, losing himself in the almost painful intensity of his release.

As he lay shuddering on top of his friend, Warrick nuzzled weakly against his neck. When both of them had rested sufficiently, they got absorbent cloths and wiped away all the sweat, blood, and semen for the moisture that could be reclaimed.

After putting on his stillsuit, Liet lay down on his side to face Warrick. He ran a finger gently down one side of his blood-brother's face. He was surprised when he spoke, his voice sounding harsh. "What did we just do?" he whispered hoarsely.

Warrick looked at him for a moment before answering. "We had sex. Didn't you like it?"

"I…I…don't know…"

In a moment, Warrick was lying on top of Liet; arms sliding around the lean body beneath him, cheek pressing against Liet's stillsuit. "We're friends…right, Liet?"

A deep sense of insecurity stole over Liet as he thought of what to say. He was the son of Umma Kynes, the revered prophet of the Fremen. He could have any lover he wanted, people looked up to him as the person who would continue the grand reshaping of Dune, he could ask for anything and get it moments after the words left his mouth. Warrick was the only one who ever bothered to learn who was the person behind the mask of power, the only one who knew him as more than the heir of the Prophet. The only one who knew him as a person.

"If…if we say…It was a favor…Friends do things…for each other…You didn't…like it?" Warrick spoke haltingly and he buried his face deeper into Liet's chest, trying to make himself smaller so that he could be surrounded completely in a sense of security.

His gentle answer, accompanied by fingers running soft hair, surprised Liet himself. "I wanted it, Warrick. I wanted it with you."

xxx

Liet stiffened when he felt someone lay a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Faroula looking at him with a sad expression softening her features. "He's gone now, Liet. Soon, we will be married."

"Go! Don't make me die for nothing!"

Warrick's words burned through his mind. His close friend and comrade had forced him into the crack of rock, sheltering him from the worst of the Hulasikali Wala, the Coriolis storm and sacrificing himself so that the only son of the great Umma Kynes could live.

Warrick had been mangled beyond belief but somehow, he had survived. Liet had helped him back to the sietch to be tended. He had watched as his friend slowly lost himself to visions that only his blinded eyes could see. Watched as Warrick slowly went insane.

He had loved Warrick more than he loved Faroula. It took his death to make Liet realize the extent of his feelings. Maybe Warrick had seen it to. Maybe that was why he had allowed Liet to do what he did in that stilltent so many years ago. Liet had been blinded by shame, never mentioning the event again so Warrick had left it at that; a night that was lost in their passage like a rock in the desert. It was still there but buried beneath the sands.

How would things have gone if Liet had realized what he felt sooner? Would he have told Warrick? The lost moments, the possibilities gone like dew in the morning, made Liet shiver as he suppressed another ebbing flow of grief.

"Liet, are you alright?"

Faroula's words yanked him back to reality. Liet-Kynes offered a brave smile but inside, he was crying.

Author's Note:

Okay, this is my first fanfic out of the Saiyuki or anime genre so be nice and give reviews. Creative criticism is greatly appreciated.

Anyway, I can't possibly hope to compare myself with the great Frank Herbert, Brian Herbert, or Kevin J. Anderson but I try…Hope you enjoyed my opinion about the relationship between Liet-Kynes and Warrick.

And before I forget, sorry if some of the terminologies are wrong; I'm not exactly sure about the term 'razzia' and I'm to lazy to check my books…

I would like to thank my Dad for introducing me to this wonderful series and I hope that he never reads this because this is slash…Again, reviews are greatly appreciated.