Amāre Divinitatus (Interlude): "…Rest from days of Adversity...”
He remains stalwart, your Primarch, even as he toils ceaselessly for the glory of the Emperor. None could see the weariness in his countenance, not even you, but you can certainly feel it.
You can certainly feel him. You can feel the weight he carries on his broad shoulders. You can feel the burden he carries in his heart, and no matter how much you try, no matter how much you assure him that you are capable, he is wont to shoulder your worries and his.
To bear the heaviness of his affection without complaint was more than enough. So long as he had breath in his body, he would not have you endure more.
But just as he was stubborn, so, too, were you.
You did not stop your assurances. You did not relent in your conviction, and if your beloved Primarch was inclined towards annoyance, he did not show it. You reasoned that you would not stop even if he did.
There was a break between your duties. You sequestered yourself in one of the lesser-traversed areas of the Phalanx if only to ponder and reflect. Resonant footsteps broke your reverie, a flash of gold caught your eyes, and you looked up only to hold your gaze with his.
Oh.
Before you know it, you're caught, solidly backed between a pillar and his sturdy frame. His large hand presses against it to hold himself steady; his shoulders and back are hunched as he looms over you, and the difference in size is all too apparent. It does not matter.
You feel it, the warmth of his affection, the strength of his being, as your beloved silently presses his forehead against yours, allowing himself to unburden—to feel—away from the expectant looks of his sons. You respond in kind, your hands reaching up to cup his face, thumbs memorizing the chiseled plane of his visage.
You close your eyes and exhale. So, too, does he.
There is naught but the comfortable silence between you two, a reinforcement of love, the rumble of duty from serfs, personnel, and Astartes alike turned into nothing more than ambient noise. The glory of the Imperium is secondary in this moment, and your beloved Primarch quietly revels in the contentment that comes from such a realization.
A sneak peak of the Sad Smut Rogal Fic. Its taking longer than I initially planned but I am reallllyyy trying to build up the emotions properly here. But I'm getting there! The fic might be closer 7000-10,000 words when I'm finished 🤫
For a time, Dorn allowed himself to feel the energetic anticipation of discovering a solution to the long held cloud that had been growing slowly in his mind over the past decade.
It was this initial optimism which had led him to blurt out his discovery to you all those weeks ago. But your reaction was like an ice bucket to his hopes.
The expression in your eyes would be something he would hold within himself for the rest of his days. You looked at him with such horror— such betrayal, that the worst part of himself that he wished he had killed long ago, was pushed to the surface: His primarch-driven hubris. And like a fool, he had believed it possible to convince you to his side:
“You…” Such a small, defeated voice arose from you as you shakily removed yourself from him. Dorn felt his hearts seize at your separation. Outwardly he remained composed, yet his eyes seemed to waver at your expression. “...Your arrogance knows no bounds.” It was said through trembling lips as you clumsily rose to your feet and began to collect your clothes.
He was up and out of the water before either of you could really process it. “I do not understand you,” His voice roughed with barely controlled anger.
You were hunched over as you grabbed your belongings. “–And you never seemed to want to!”
Dorn's nostrils flared and his lips thinned at your retort. Could you not see it? He may have solved the greatest deficiency for mankind and you selfishly withheld your gratitud. Instead, choosing pointless grandstanding and your petty pride to rule over logic.
In the quieter moments following that day, Dorn had wished that his first instinct was not to go on the defensive, but it was his very nature, his modus operandi, to reinforce his position. To keep pushing until the enemy surrendered. To point out others' flawed path. Yet in this case, it only served to reveal his greatest shortcomings.
Clenching his fists and stepping out of the pool Rogal tried to catch your eye. “Did you always plan on growing old? Did you expect me to just watch you slowly wither away and die?” His voice was accusatory, further digging his grave and prying open his biggest fear. Don't. Don't leave me here alone.
Not looking at him, you walked to the exit, you had forgotten your sandals in your haste and your bare feet echoed loudly at your quick exit. You wanted to leave. You needed to escape this situation. You needed to escape him. The back of your eyes burned and your throat tightened as you tried to hold back the grief.
“I refuse to live a life where each passing year I slowly lose more of my humanity. I thought you would finally understand that!” You couldn't keep your sobs at bay any longer.
Rogal needed only to take a few long strides to block your exit. You glared at his bare abdomen, not daring to look into his eyes.
“You do not get to run from me.” In his heart he knew his tone was only further pushing you away. But that darkness, that deep seated possessive cloud always floating near him, was growing, every precious, terrifying second you wished to flee from him.
“I have said all I needed to. You're the one who can't let this go!”
He gritted his teeth, crouching down to one knee, he grabbed your arms in a firm hold. It took every ounce of his willpower to not shatter your bones in his desperation to keep you from fleeing.
He could almost feel the proverbial guillotine bladr rising to the top.
“Would you be so cold— so selfish, as to abandon me to an existence without you?”
He felt you stiffen in his arms, but still he kept pushing, the rope holding onto the blade tightened. You needed to understand, you had to.
“I refuse to sit back and watch you wither away simply because of your damnable pride,”
He had seen how your eyes had widened and your breath still, and without fully comprehending it, Dorn allowed the blade to fall:
“Were you foolish enough to even think you had a choice in the matter?”
Dorn blinked at the memory, and his shoulders sagged just the slightest when he recalled how you went lax in his arms. Your gaze became detached, your tears having frozen into a flashy sheen across your eyes before slowly dripping down your cheeks.
You had both stood there in silence afterwards, Dorn's final words echoing across the tiles, proving how he could never take them back. The moment his grip on your arms lessened you had darted from the room, the fall of your footsteps fading as you walked away from him.
“What will you do to rectify this, sire?” Alexis stood at his Primarch's shoulder, his head nearly meeting Rogal's chin. The Astartes Captain still wore his own armor allowing him to level his harsh gaze onto his patriarch.
Rogal remained silent, instead he turned his gaze back to the data before him. If he were to attempt an apology, it would only be through false platitudes.
The very truth of the matter? He still believed what he was doing was right.
How could he be a cruel husband simply for wanting to have more time with his wife? You were the one trying to leave him— to leave this life. Forcing him to live alone in it. He believed, whole heartedly, that you only needed time. And he was willing to give you immeasurable amounts of it.
fuck it, i never ever do those “reblog for X, this one really works!” posts, but this one doesn’t have any of that BS, this is just straight up wishing us good things; and then the comment doesn’t even say any of that either. Zero claims on this post, all positive vibes
May you end this week feeling ever more certain of a future you’ll love
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