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Love Begins
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I'd rather be in outer space šø
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JVL
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@baldieboi
Requests are closed (as of 2026.05.16.) until further notice
Interactive/choice based stories
Finished stories
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Rewriting is planned
Primarch OCs
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Also, check out the stories of @the-mysterious-detective, I recommend his blog and his stories! ^^
Buy me a coffee if you like what I do :3
The primarchs are so delulu they don't undertsnad that the serf serving them is just doing their work not in love with them??
Love your work.
Aww thank you! <3 I'm really glad for this ask, it gives me more opportunity to make some... chaos. Not Chaos chaos, just regular Primarchs misunderstanding something type of chaos. I love that, honestly. And this? This is going to be fun *proceeds to giggle during the whole writing like a maniac*
Masterlist
Who's next for the New Origin AU ?
Guilliman is done and now is time to choose for the next primarch ! This time however i will not include a short lore summary for them because some of them were changed.
As an example Fulgrim was supposed to be raised on a space station as some kind of star obsessed with fame, it has been completely changed so i don't want to promise one thing and make another instead.
As such not all primarchs are there because some of them need more lore right now and we haven't focused on them yet, some such as Dorn and jaghatai are too barebone for now.
Who's next ?
Horus Lupercal
Sanguinius
Magnus the Red
Lorgar Aurelian
Leman Russ
Corvus Corax
Ferrus Manus
Edit : i forgot to include a "result" option for those who just wanted to see the votes without choosing a particular character
Hey guys, I got an idea. I love those wheel type of vids on tiktok (where you roll your race, stats etc) so I decided to make my own but for alternative Primarch backstories.
I am currently working on it and then I started thinking about turning the results into short or longer stories, though that part still needs to be decided. Would you like to see some?
These are inspired by @the-mysterious-detective whose Primarch origin au (the orange ones) inspired me, yet again. You guys should check it out, seriously. You are sleeping on it.
Mine is a bit different, less serious, shorter, the wheel decided fate should they have and... that's it. New founding order, new numbering system, according to the wheel 2 of them will have new legion names. I'll post about it later.
Should I make this? And who should be the first?
Yes, Mortarion
Yes, Russ
Yes, Magnus (he'll be blue here)
Yes, Guilliman
Yes, someone else (comment)
No! Focus on your other stuff!
Which body parts do the Primarchs like the most?
And where do they love to cum?
I've been reminded just how much the Primarchs are liked... in this context.
Nsfw, mdni.
Masterlist
Waiting for the "Dark Heresy"
The new origin story of... Roboute Guilliman !
Come and see the new life of our favorite blue primarch, he doesn't do paperwork anymore though, that's for others to do ! What is his new life about ? how does he turn out ?
@beckyninja
The Emperor's finest
And one very pissed off Night Lord
Part 2
You are a Night Lord. You were captured and forced into redemption servitude... with the Salamanders. Now you meet them.
Previous part | Masterlist | Next part (soon)
The Emperor's finest
And one very pissed off Night Lord
Part 1
Masterlist | Next part
You are a Night Lord. You were captured and forced into redemption servitude... with the Salamanders.
What about the Emperor asking for the primarchs marry in less than a year?
Thanks for the ask, anon!
So. The Emperor just dropped this bombshell on his sons and here's how each of them is handling it.
The Raven's Shadow
For @mehiwilldoitlater and anyone else who might just enjoy a bit of yandere Corvus Corax.
You first noticed it in the way he watched you.
Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard, had always been intense. But lately his gaze lingered too long. His presence felt heavier like a shadow you couldn't shake even in the brightest halls of Deliverance.
"You should rest" he'd say, appearing beside you without warning. "The work can wait."
At first you thought it was kindness. The Lord of Ravens concerned for one of his remembrancers. But then the gifts started arriving. Books you'd mentioned once in passing. A specific vintage of tea you'd tried months ago at some gathering. Things you never told him about.
"How did you know?" you asked once.
His face remained calm. "I pay attention to what matters."
The other remembrancers started avoiding you. When you asked why they looked uncomfortable.
"He requested you be assigned exclusively to his documentation" one finally admitted. "Said no one else understood his vision properly."
You hadn't agreed to that.
The breaking point came when you found him in your quarters. Just standing there in the darkness, perfectly still, watching the doorway. Waiting.
"My lord, this is inappropriate."
"Is it?" His voice was soft, almost hurt. "I only want to ensure your safety. These halls can be dangerous."
"I've been safe for years."
"That was before. Before I realized how irreplaceable you are."
You requested a transfer the next morning. Back to Terra. Anywhere but here.
The approval came through with surprising speed. Too fast actually but you didn't question it. You just wanted to leave.
Corvus found you in the hangar bay, your bags already loaded.
"You're leaving." Not a question.
"Yes."
"Why?"
You wanted to lie but something in his expression stopped you. "Because you frighten me, my lord."
For a long moment he said nothing. Then something shifted in his face. Not anger. Something worse. Understanding.
"I see." He stepped closer. You stepped back. "I've been watching myself become this. Couldn't stop it. Didn't want to stop it." His voice dropped to barely a whisper. "Do you know what I've done to keep you here? The transfers I've blocked? The people I've... redirected?"
Your blood ran cold.
"I told myself it was protection. That you needed me." His laugh was bitter, broken. "But you're right to run. The problem is..."
He tilted his head and in that moment he looked less like a man and more like the carrion bird.
"I've just realized I can't let you."
The hangar doors sealed shut with a hydraulic hiss.
"My lord, please."
"I'm sorry" Corvus said and he genuinely sounded it. "But I've spent my whole life in shadows and cages. I won't go back to being alone in the dark. Not now. Not when I've finally found my light."
Your shuttle sat mere meters away. The pilot was already aboard. You could see him through the viewport, watching the scene with growing alarm.
Corvus followed your gaze. His hand moved to his belt.
"Don't" you breathed.
"I won't hurt you" he promised. "Never you."
The lights in the hangar flickered once.
Then went out completely.
In the darkness you heard his voice, close enough to feel his breath.
"Run if you want. This is my domain. Every shadow, every dark corner of this ship... they all belong to me."
When the emergency lighting kicked in thirty seconds later he was gone.
So was the pilot.
The hangar doors remained sealed.
Somewhere in the ventilation system above you heard the flutter of wings.
Or maybe it was just your imagination.
Maybe.
Tagged, anyone can be tagged, ask me: @the-mysterious-detective @mehiwilldoitlater @theonceunknown @gravedwe11er @lesboficfanatic @bunny-fair @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @fandomcatchall @thebetterblacklight @incrediblethirst @beckyninja @ilovewolvezz @celestia0473 @nereidof40k @hopefully-grimderp @acgames @mortarion-thinks-youre-toxic @catabibaz0n @subtlepoisonknowledge @aggresivemenace @veryspecificreason @rogalist-of-dorns @hellafluff @psykerofbones @randomlyappearingartist @nyrocwolfen @stpdeletacc @solareias @omg1wanttidd1es-sb @2manyburiedtales @obsidian-kirin @nightlordlover @thunderhawk727 @pippinsquishums
Iron and Obsession
I had a sudden thought yesterday. I am not as active as I used to be (blame something alongside me being burnt out) and I don't want to leave all of you without stuff. So, here it is.
A short story with a yandere Ferrus Manus.
Tagged, anyone can be tagged, ask me: @the-mysterious-detective @mehiwilldoitlater @theonceunknown @gravedwe11er @lesboficfanatic @bunny-fair @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @fandomcatchall @thebetterblacklight @incrediblethirst @beckyninja @ilovewolvezz @celestia0473 @nereidof40k @hopefully-grimderp @acgames @mortarion-thinks-youre-toxic @catabibaz0n @subtlepoisonknowledge @aggresivemenace @veryspecificreason @rogalist-of-dorns @hellafluff @psykerofbones @randomlyappearingartist @nyrocwolfen @stpdeletacc @solareias @omg1wanttidd1es-sb @2manyburiedtales @obsidian-kirin @nightlordlover @thunderhawk727
He started counting the seconds between your visits.
Not intentionally. It just... happened. The way his mind catalogued everything else, temperatures, stress points, fault lines in metal, it catalogued you. How long you'd been gone. How long until you came back. Whether the number was acceptable.
It usually wasn't.
You noticed things before he did. The way he'd repositioned your chair closer to his forge without mentioning it. The way your name had appeared on the access logs for the upper sanctum, your clearance quietly elevated, your old quarters reassigned so the only reasonable place to sleep was closer to him. Little things. Practical things, he'd told himself.
You hadn't seen it that way.
"You moved my things again" you said and your voice was flat in a way that made something in his chest tighten.
"The lower quarters have poor ventilation."
"Ferrus."
"The air quality data supports..."
"Ferrus."
He'd gone quiet. You looked at him the way you look at something you're not sure is safe to touch and he hadn't known what to do with that. Nobody looked at the Primarch of the Iron Hands that way. Nobody looked at him that way.
He should have said something honest then. He didn't.
You left three days later. A formal request for transfer, routed through a junior officer so you wouldn't have to stand in front of him to do it. Smart. Efficient. He'd have admired it if his hands weren't crushing the dataslate hard enough to crack the casing.
He approved the transfer.
He told himself that was proof he wasn't what you thought he was.
Then he pulled up your route.
He knew the ship you'd be on. The stops it would make. The systems it would pass through. He knew the names of everyone aboard. He sat with that information for a long time in the dark with the forge cold and the hammers still and he thought about how small the galaxy actually was.
How easy it would be.
He didn't move.
Not yet.
But the seconds were counting again and the number was already unacceptable.
Part II: The Number
You'd been gone for nineteen days.
He knew the exact number without checking. That was the problem.
The ship had made its first stop four days ago. He knew which port. He knew the layout of that port. He knew specifically which corridors had the least foot traffic after the third hour of night cycle, which security rotations had gaps wide enough to walk a Primarch through if you were careful about it.
He hadn't done anything with that information.
He just... had it. The way you keep a tool you're not sure you'll use but can't bring yourself to set down.
His Legion noticed something was off. Of course they did. They were Iron Hands. They noticed inefficiency the way other people noticed bad smells. Ferrus had been standing at the observation window for six hours yesterday, not forging, not planning, just standing and not a single one of them had said anything about it because none of them wanted to be the one to ask.
Smart men.
He thought about what you'd looked like when you'd figured it out. That specific moment your expression shifted from uncertain to certain. Like something had clicked into place that you'd been hoping was wrong.
He replayed it more than he'd like to admit.
The dataslate on his desk had your current coordinates. Updated automatically. He'd built the tracker himself in three hours, the same night you left and he hadn't asked himself why he was doing it until it was already done.
He told himself it was a precaution. The galaxy was dangerous. You were unprotected. It was logical.
He was still telling himself that on day nineteen when the ship's route updated and he realized you'd changed course.
Not toward your destination.
Away from it.
He stood very still for a long moment.
You knew.
Of course you knew. You'd always been sharp. It was one of the things he had catalogued about you early on, the way you noticed details other people missed. He'd admired it. He hadn't considered that you might aim it at him.
His hands rested flat on the desk. The metal surface dented slightly under his fingers without him meaning it to.
You were running.
The number reset to zero.
And somewhere in the cold machinery of his mind, something that had been waiting finally stopped pretending it was patience.
Tagged, anyone can be tagged, ask me: @the-mysterious-detective @mehiwilldoitlater @theonceunknown @gravedwe11er @lesboficfanatic @bunny-fair @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @fandomcatchall @thebetterblacklight @incrediblethirst @beckyninja @ilovewolvezz @celestia0473 @nereidof40k @hopefully-grimderp @acgames @mortarion-thinks-youre-toxic @catabibaz0n @subtlepoisonknowledge @aggresivemenace @veryspecificreason @rogalist-of-dorns @hellafluff @psykerofbones @randomlyappearingartist @nyrocwolfen @stpdeletacc @solareias @omg1wanttidd1es-sb @2manyburiedtales @obsidian-kirin @nightlordlover @thunderhawk727
And @snippetsforsnipper
Iron and Obsession
I had a sudden thought yesterday. I am not as active as I used to be (blame something alongside me being burnt out) and I don't want to leave all of you without stuff. So, here it is.
A short story with a yandere Ferrus Manus.
Tagged, anyone can be tagged, ask me: @the-mysterious-detective @mehiwilldoitlater @theonceunknown @gravedwe11er @lesboficfanatic @bunny-fair @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @fandomcatchall @thebetterblacklight @incrediblethirst @beckyninja @ilovewolvezz @celestia0473 @nereidof40k @hopefully-grimderp @acgames @mortarion-thinks-youre-toxic @catabibaz0n @subtlepoisonknowledge @aggresivemenace @veryspecificreason @rogalist-of-dorns @hellafluff @psykerofbones @randomlyappearingartist @nyrocwolfen @stpdeletacc @solareias @omg1wanttidd1es-sb @2manyburiedtales @obsidian-kirin @nightlordlover @thunderhawk727
He started counting the seconds between your visits.
Not intentionally. It just... happened. The way his mind catalogued everything else, temperatures, stress points, fault lines in metal, it catalogued you. How long you'd been gone. How long until you came back. Whether the number was acceptable.
It usually wasn't.
You noticed things before he did. The way he'd repositioned your chair closer to his forge without mentioning it. The way your name had appeared on the access logs for the upper sanctum, your clearance quietly elevated, your old quarters reassigned so the only reasonable place to sleep was closer to him. Little things. Practical things, he'd told himself.
You hadn't seen it that way.
"You moved my things again" you said and your voice was flat in a way that made something in his chest tighten.
"The lower quarters have poor ventilation."
"Ferrus."
"The air quality data supports..."
"Ferrus."
He'd gone quiet. You looked at him the way you look at something you're not sure is safe to touch and he hadn't known what to do with that. Nobody looked at the Primarch of the Iron Hands that way. Nobody looked at him that way.
He should have said something honest then. He didn't.
You left three days later. A formal request for transfer, routed through a junior officer so you wouldn't have to stand in front of him to do it. Smart. Efficient. He'd have admired it if his hands weren't crushing the dataslate hard enough to crack the casing.
He approved the transfer.
He told himself that was proof he wasn't what you thought he was.
Then he pulled up your route.
He knew the ship you'd be on. The stops it would make. The systems it would pass through. He knew the names of everyone aboard. He sat with that information for a long time in the dark with the forge cold and the hammers still and he thought about how small the galaxy actually was.
How easy it would be.
He didn't move.
Not yet.
But the seconds were counting again and the number was already unacceptable.
The Mournival keeps what is theirs
They would be there in the morning. They were always there in the morning. They were four of the most dangerous men of the Sons of Horus and they had decided collectively with full commitment that you were theirs.
You belong here.
A short yandere Mournival story.
Special tags: @itsmeyaspider @pippinsquishums
Tagged, anyone can be tagged, ask me: @the-mysterious-detective @mehiwilldoitlater @theonceunknown @gravedwe11er @lesboficfanatic @bunny-fair @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @fandomcatchall @thebetterblacklight @incrediblethirst @beckyninja @ilovewolvezz @celestia0473 @nereidof40k @hopefully-grimderp @acgames @mortarion-thinks-youre-toxic @catabibaz0n @subtlepoisonknowledge @aggresivemenace @veryspecificreason @rogalist-of-dorns @hellafluff @psykerofbones @randomlyappearingartist @nyrocwolfen @stpdeletacc @solareias @omg1wanttidd1es-sb @2manyburiedtales @obsidian-kirin @nightlordlover @thunderhawk727
Homemade Justice.
New Origin! Mortarion meeting Nurgle.
The purge of Barbarus was on schedule, the thick fog made liberation efforts slow but Mortarion was nothing if not persistent.
One of his latest invention, the atmospheric autoclave burned away entire clouds of green fog and yet, something was wrong with it.
Armors rusted, machinery slowed down and diseases showed themselves in Astartes and guardsmen alike. The Panacea cure was in high demand just to fight off the various plagues found on the planet.
Magnus warned Mortarion of the dangers of the Warp and it seemed this planet was heavily tainted by it.
The population, already small, further dwindled as the Overlords sent monsters after monsters after the Death Guard, this enraged Mortarion who shifted to use orbital bombardment rather than standard ground offensive.
Each lives lost would be another cut on the Overlords body once he found them, that he promised to all the souls lost.
The offensive lasted close to a standard Terran year, his librarians devised rituals of purification that helped him reach the various corrupted stronghold of the planet until only one remained.
The fight through Necare's mansion was difficult, plague maidens and various deamonhost impeded their progress, Mortarion cut each of them down with his halberd, refusing to give ground to these abominations.
The atmosphere inside the Mansion was thick with dread, a green sickly fog and rotting wood that expanded upward in a never ending roof that had no end.
Necare awaited his special guest with a legendary calm, his god told him all would be well. Mortarion is and always will be the Plague god's champion. He landed on a different planet and learned new ideals but his path is set, thus it is written.
Various deamons awaited as well, the death of their comrades didn't bother them in the slightest, in fact, it was all merely a test for Mortarion's ability, to see if he was worthy of an audience with Nurgle.
The answer came when the door to the sanctuary was blown open by a mighty explosion and squads of Astartes entered the room, guns aimed at every occupants while Mortarion stood in the middle of the formation.
Necare stilled the Deamons, their intentions was clear and yet, they would have to wait for the Primarch's answer.
"Son of the Anathema, Ender of Plague as you are called, this meeting has long been overdue" he started, his voice the sounds of tombstones grinding together.
"I am called Necare, this planet... Barbarus as your tongue calls it is the domain of my god, Nurgle. He has been waiting for an opportunity to speak with you, his proposition is one that few would dare turn down. You are offered an audience and-"
Mortarion laughed, a soft sound that resonated throughout the room. "Gods do not exist, you are but a corrupted being from a dimension overtaken by a cancer of galactic proportion, what you have to offer is nothing but damnation."
Necare shifted in his seat and only then did his true size became apparent, standing taller than Mortarion himself by a few meters, a spindly horrors wielding a towering scythe waiting to taste the blood of his guests.
"you are foolish, my god is as real as this realm, as real as the dirt you walked on the path to this abode. He is the true God, the one who represents a truth this universe refuses to acknowledge : decay and rebirth for your empire shall die like so many others"
Mortarion said nothing for a moment, it stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time until he spoke again.
"Your words are empty, you are not even worthy of being called Deamons or whatever name your kind goes by. I will give you a new one, old lies. This is what you all are, warp matters acting as a cancer, eating whatever it can to survive."
Necare shifted nervously in his seat, Mortarion's word affected the Deamons around him, some losing their grip on reality as his iron-clad mind refused to acknowledge them.
"I refuse" Mortarion said simply, "Your God will be excised like the tumor he is"
With that the battle begun in earnest, death guard faced deamons as Necare and Mortarion fought one another.
The Primarch was fast, Necare had trouble following his movement, even his toxic fumes did nothing to stop the Ender of Plague.
"Your struggles means nothing ! Nurgle will reign supreme while you wallow in the dirt !" Necare said, anger and a hint of fear in his word.
Mortarion answered his foe with a mighty slash that left a deep wound on the rotting abomination. Necare didn't even flinch, his wounds would've killed a space marine outright yet he kept moving as if they were mere scratches.
On and on it went, the two forces of nature fought the other with a passion that would've make Khorne proud. Mortarion skillfully dodged Necare's scythe while the deamon evaded his foe's halberd as if he was floating across the floor.
Then it struck Mortarion, he knew how to get rid of Necare. "No more, old lie. You can rest now."
Necare was stuck in place almost instantly "Wha-"
"You are an anomaly, an idea given flesh and so I reject you, now and always. Yes, we will die and something else will rise, that is the circle of life. Not the twisted one your god made."
The effects were immediate, Mortarion's denial loosened Necare's grip on reality and his deamonic powers faded slowly. Shock, anger then terror made their way into his soul he tried to speak yet no words were coming out of his mouth.
"Rest easy, old lie. You will be granted a true, final death. Now, go and torment this realm no more." Mortarion put his hand on Necare's shoulder, or what appeared to be one in a comforting manner.
The room grew dark, the sick fog made way for rotten trees, potent fumes that knocked out even his strongest son while roots and decaying water appeared in the room.
"Ender of Plague" a voice echoed, heavy with it's age and powerful presence "You are quite the specimen, showing mental and physical fortitude far beyond what was expected"
Necare couldn't even turn around, his god was here.
"Nurgle" Mortarion answered, his gaze filled with contempt.
"You defeated all the obstacles on your way to success today, overcame Barbarus and Necare himself, a reward is awaiting you, my champion."
Nurgle watched Mortarion with an unsettling grin, worms falling out of his mouth in drove with each words.
"Join me and I will help you cure all the sickness and diseases in this galaxy, this realm shall be pure once mo-"
"No, I will do no such thing and i will never bend the knee to an abomination like you. I saw what you did to all the people on this world, your idea of curing them is rendering them apathetic and riddled with warp disease." He said, pointing his halberd at the rotting god.
"Such is the way of life, child of the Anathema. I granted them peace, I soothed their worries and comforted them when they cried for help."
Mortarion struggled to hold his gaze, the magnitude and weight of his presence made it difficult to understand what stood in front of him.
"You are a cancer on a galactic scale, I heal, you make them sick. I grant death, you create armies of undead. You have nothing to offer me."
"Foolish man, the Sea of Soul is stirring once more. The Dragon of the Apocalypse is on the rise once more and his brethren are soon to follow. I can help you, I can grant you strength before bigger threats annihilate your species."
Mortarion had to use his halberd as a stick to stay upright, he could feel his hearts going into cardiac arrest, his armor worked over it's limits to keep him alive.
With his last strength, he swiped at Nurgle's extended hand and cut a finger. The god hissed and fled, when he truly left Mortarion realized he decapitated Necare, not the hand of Nurgle.
He knew better than to trust the words of a warp parasite yet something alarmed him, Nurgle mentioned a Dragon and his brethren. The warp was also calmer for some strange reason but Nurgle seemed... Beaten and ghastly, as if weakened by something.
He took a second to catch his breath before taking a dose of the Panacea cure. He had a world to rebuild.
The Weight of Silence
I got sick. Again. I hallucinated singing roads and other weird stuff, I even forgot briefly tumblr exists. But I am here! And better. And ready to make you tear up. š
Tagged, anyone can be tagged, ask me: @the-mysterious-detective @mehiwilldoitlater @theonceunknown @gravedwe11er @lesboficfanatic @bunny-fair @drowning-in-sorrowing-tales @bookandyarndragonwritesdark @fandomcatchall @thebetterblacklight @incrediblethirst @beckyninja @ilovewolvezz @celestia0473 @nereidof40k @hopefully-grimderp @acgames @mortarion-thinks-youre-toxic @catabibaz0n @subtlepoisonknowledge @aggresivemenace @veryspecificreason @rogalist-of-dorns @hellafluff @psykerofbones @randomlyappearingartist @nyrocwolfen @stpdeletacc @solareias @omg1wanttidd1es-sb @2manyburiedtales @obsidian-kirin @nightlordlover @thunderhawk727
You'd always been able to feel other people's pain. It made you valuable to the Imperium and it made you want to claw your own mind out. His pain was different, though.
The first time you touched Angron's mind, you nearly blacked out. The Butcher's Nails screamed so loud you could barely think. Every synapse firing was agony. Every thought carved through suffering.
"Get out" he snarled and you should have listened.
But you were young and stupid and you thought you could help. So you reached deeper, past the Nails, past the rage and you found him. The gladiator who remembered his brothers and sisters dying in the dirt. The son who was never saved.
You dulled it. Just a little. Just enough that he could think without screaming.
He looked at you like you'd performed a miracle.
"Stay" he said. Not an order. A plea.
So you stayed. Hours in his presence, your mind twined with his, absorbing the overflow until your nose bled and your hands shook. He never asked you to. You did it because when you did, he could read. He could think. He could remember what it felt like to be human.
"You're killing yourself" he told you once, wiping blood from your upper lip with a gentleness that seemed impossible from hands that large.
"I don't care."
"You should."
You didn't, though. Because in the quiet moments between campaigns, when it was just you and him in his chambers, you saw who he could have been. You felt the weight of his love for his lost family. His grief. His rage at the Emperor who let them die.
You loved him. You loved a man being eaten alive by the thing in his skull.
When the Warmaster came with his promises (freedom, vengeance, an end to the Imperium that had enslaved you both), Angron listened.
You begged him not to. You felt the warp's corruption creeping at the edges of his mind, something that wanted to devour what little remained.
"This will save us" he said and you felt the lie even if he didn't.
"This will destroy you."
He touched your face. His hand was shaking. The Nails were burrowing deeper and even your powers couldn't keep up anymore.
"I'm already destroyed" he said. "At least this way I choose it."
You felt him slip away during the Heresy. Piece by piece. The warp changed him and every time you reached for his mind, there was less of him to find. The pain was still there, amplified, mixed with something else now. Hunger.
The last time you saw him before his ascension, he was covered in blood. His eyes were wild. The Nails sang so loud you could hear them without trying.
"Run" he told you and for the first time you heard fear in his voice. Not for himself. "Run and don't let me find you."
"Angron, please, I can still help you, I can..."
"There's nothing left to help." His voice broke. "I can feel it. I'm fading. And what's replacing me will kill you without hesitation. It won't even remember why it shouldn't."
You reached for him anyway, your powers flaring, trying to find any scrap of the man beneath the monster.
His hand caught your wrist. Gentle, still. One last time.
"I love you" he said. "I need you to know that whatever I become, this version of me loved you. Remember that. When you hear about the things I've done. Remember I loved you."
Then he let go.
You ran.
