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
Lion El'Jonson:
- Serf: *hands him his sword*
- Lion: "They touched my hand for 0.5 seconds longer than necessary"
- Has a full crisis meeting with his inner circle about What This Means
- Luther is like "my lord, they were just doing their job"
- Lion: "But they smiled at me"
- Spends three weeks analyzing every interaction
- The serf has no idea any of this is happening
Fulgrim:
- Serf: *compliments his artwork*
- Fulgrim: "THEY UNDERSTAND ME ON A SPIRITUAL LEVEL"
- Writes them poetry
- Commissions a painting of them
- Plans their future together in his head
- The serf was just being polite about the portrait
- Honestly they're a little scared now
Perturabo:
- Serf: *remembers how he likes his tea*
- Perturabo: "Finally, someone who pays attention to detail"
- Starts leaving his designs out for them to see
- "They're the only one who appreciates my work"
- Builds them a mechanically perfect music box
- Serf: "Thank you, my lord?" *confused*
- Perturabo thinks this is a love story, it's actually just good customer service
Jaghatai Khan:
- Serf: *laughs at his joke*
- Khan: "We have a connection"
- Invites them to go riding
- Writes them into his poetry
- They're just being friendly because he's their boss??
- He's already named the wind after them
- Serf is just trying to get through their shift
Leman Russ:
- serf: *brings him food*
- Russ: "THEY WISH TO PROVIDE FOR ME"
- This is clearly a courtship ritual in his mind
- Starts trying to impress them with stories
- Brings them trophies from hunts
- Serf: "My lord, I'm just doing my job"
- Russ: "So humble!!"
Rogal Dorn:
- Serf: *follows his instructions precisely*
- Dorn: "They understand the importance of protocol. This is compatibility."
- Adds them to his personal schedule
- "We work well together"
- Starts building them things
- The serf is just good at their job and now they have a fortress??
- Dorn has planned their next 50 years together
Konrad Curze:
- Serf: *doesn't run away screaming*
- Curze: "They accept me as I am"
- Gets wildly attached immediately
- Has visions of their future (probably concerning)
- Serf is literally just brave/professional
- Or too scared to run
- This will not end well but it's happening
Sanguinius:
- Serf: *normal amount of awe at his presence*
- Sanguinius: "I felt something"
- He's so used to worship he thinks genuine kindness is love
- Starts seeking them out specifically
- Writes the most beautiful poetry about them
- Serf is having a religious experience, not a romantic one
- The disconnect is real
Ferrus Manus:
- Serf: *shows interest in his forge work*
- Ferrus: "A kindred spirit"
- Starts teaching them metalwork
- "They appreciate craftsmanship"
- Makes them elaborate gifts
- Serf just thought the metalwork was cool
- Now they're in an apprenticeship/romance they didn't sign up for
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
Voting ended onMay 16
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.
I've been reminded just how much the Primarchs are liked... in this context.
Nsfw, mdni.
Masterlist
- Lion El'Jonson
Favorite body part: Thighs and the soft crease where thigh meets ass. Heās obsessed with thick, powerful legs he can grip and bruise.
Loves to cum on: Inner thighs and the underside of the ass. He wants to watch it drip down slowly while youāre still trembling.
- Fulgrim
Favorite body part: The entire elegant line of the back and spine, especially the dimples right above the ass, and a graceful neck he can bite.
Loves to cum on: The small of the back and those perfect lumbar dimples. Heāll paint you like a canvas and admire his work.
- Perturabo
Favorite body part: Wide hips and a strong, thick ass he can grab hard enough to leave fingerprints in the flesh.
Loves to cum on: Deep between the ass cheeks or right on the lower back after bending you over his workbench.
- Jaghatai Khan
Favorite body part: Tight waist and athletic legs built for riding. He loves gripping something that can keep up with his speed.
Loves to cum on: Stomach and tits. He wants to see it splashed across your front while youāre panting and sweaty.
- Leman Russ
Favorite body part: Tits and a soft, biteable neck/shoulders. The bigger and softer the better, something he can bury his face in.
Loves to cum on: Tits and face. He wants you marked, messy and smelling like him.
- Rogal Dorn
Favorite body part: Strong shoulders, broad back and a solid ass he can slam into without worry.
Loves to cum on: Ass and lower back. Practical, possessive and leaves you dripping while he admires how well you took him.
- Konrad Curze
Favorite body part: Pale skin that marks easily: neck, inner thighs and anything he can sink his teeth into.
Loves to cum on: Face and throat. He wants to see his seed running down your chin while you look up at him with those scared/pretty eyes.
- Sanguinius
Favorite body part: The curve of the hips, waist and elegant collarbones. Heās almost worshipful about beautiful, angelic proportions.
Loves to cum on: Chest, neck and collarbones. He makes it look poetic even when heās painting you white.
- Ferrus Manus
Favorite body part: Ass and thick thighs. Something solid he can grip with those metal hands without immediately breaking you (he tries).
Loves to cum on: Ass, especially after pounding you from behind. He wants to watch it run down your crack.
- Angron
Favorite body part: Anything he can bruise and mark. Neck, tits, hips... the more damage the better.
Loves to cum on: Face and open mouth. He wants to see you choke on it and wear it like a trophy.
- Roboute Guilliman
Favorite body part: Soft stomach, wide breeding hips and a plush ass he can hold while heās being efficient.
Loves to cum on: Deep inside or right on the stomach so he can watch it pool in your belly button.
- Mortarion
Favorite body part: Neck and throat (easy to choke) and surprisingly soft, pale skin he can defile.
Loves to cum on: Throat and chest. Bonus points if youāre coughing and gasping while covered.
- Magnus the Red
Favorite body part: Eyes and mouth but physically heās addicted to a supple waist and an ass he can spread wide while he studies every reaction.
Loves to cum on: Face, tongue and glasses (if youāre wearing any). He finds it intellectually arousing to ruin something beautiful.
- Horus Lupercal
Favorite body part: Tits, hips and that perfect little spot right under the jaw he can kiss before he ruins you.
Loves to cum on: Tits and face. The Warmaster wants to see you absolutely glazed and still begging for more.
- Lorgar Aurelian
Favorite body part: Soft throat and plush tits he can squeeze while whispering scripture. He loves watching them bounce as he fucks you like a holy offering.
Loves to cum on: Your face and open mouth. He wants to watch his thick seed coat your tongue and drip down your chin while you kneel like a devoted supplicant.
- Vulkan
Favorite body part: Everything soft and warm like big tits, thick thighs, a plush body he can hold against his hot skin.
Loves to cum on: Tits and stomach. He wants you dripping with his heat, literally.
- Corvus Corax
Favorite body part: Neck, shoulders and a lithe, flexible body he can bend into any position in the dark.
Loves to cum on: Back and ass while taking you from behind. Shadowy, possessive and silent.
- Alpharius/Omegon
Favorite body part: Whatever confuses and overwhelms you most. Usually throat and ass at the same time.
Loves to cum on: Both ends. One in the mouth, one deep inside or across the face. They like symmetry in their mess.
+ Bonus
- Emperor of Mankind
Favorite body part: Your tight throat and fertile hips. He loves gripping that perfect waist while claiming what belongs to him by divine right.
Loves to cum on: Deep inside you or across your face and tits. He wants you marked and overflowing with the seed of a god.
- Malcador the Sigillite
Favorite body part: Soft neck and supple ass he can squeeze while whispering forbidden truths in your ear.
Loves to cum on: Your face and open mouth. He enjoys watching the old manās load drip down your chin as you kneel before him.
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 ?
ArrivalĀ :
The 13th primarch landed on a once beautiful world that tore itself apart over the few remaining sources of energy still available, long has the planet forgotten who shot first or even if peace was considered at some point but one sure is certain, people still suffered from the consequences of a war that happened so long ago.
His pod landed in a crater that was rumored to have been the direct impact of a nuclear warhead, few dared venture in this area due to the sheer amount of radiation and mutated creatures living there, all but oneā¦
A Super-Mutant known as Fawkes, a towering green giant wearing a long grey coat, makeshift dark glasses and a mace made from a pole and a car engine decided to go check the crash site. The radiation did little to bother him as he made his way toward the mysterious object.
He quietly cursed when he saw what was inside the pod, an infant ! What kind of monster did this ? Was it sent from space or did someone deliberately left it here to try and get rid of it ? No matter, Fawkes refused to let the young primarch die to the radiation or wandering deathclaw.
āCome with me tiny one, itās far from over, I will take care of youā his rough but caring voice resonated with the Primarch who was seemingly in awe of the giant man carrying him.
āI will call you⦠Roboute. An old friend of mine once carried this name, do you enjoy it ? It means Explorer in the local tongue.ā
Roboute certainly seemed to enjoy it if the adorable coos and babbling he made were any hint.
Childhood :
Raising a child in an apocalypse wasnāt easy for anyone, much less a super-mutant who had no idea how to raise a child, fortunately Roboute landed at an age that seemed out of his baby years, Fawkes taught him to talk however he could, sometime making funny faces to get a reaction out of his young sibling as he considered him his brother and scribbling on walls to try and get teach him to write.
Food was also an issue, what could he feed him ? The meager amount of currency he had covered the expenses for ammunition so he set out to hunt, deathclaw meat was too nourishing and tough for a child, radroaches were perfect but often hid from him while mutated alligators were out of the question.
Fawkes managed to pull through nonetheless, his troubles forgotten when Roboute smiled and jumped up when seeing his big brother come back to the shack they both called home. He had to admit the young primarch was full of energy, a radiant ball of sunshine that brightened his day upon hearing āyouāre back !ā from the blonde child.
Roboute however quickly learned that life outside his shack was far more difficult than he thought, he often snuck outside at night when Fawkes was asleep to explore the area and educate himself about the world he live in. He was simply too curious !
This led to his first meeting with his homeworldās greatest enemy yet, Radiation. Roboute, being a primarch, wasnāt too bothered at first but Fawkes and him lived near a āGreen Seaā a place too irradiated for most even when using a hazmat suit.
The air becoming hotter and tasting like copper didnāt bother him too much until his vision started becoming too nauseating for him, breathing was difficult and he soon collapsed, weakly calling for help until a green mass came rushing for him.
///
Fawkes ran like his life depended on it, hell, someoneās life depended on it ! He smashed anything foolish enough to be in his way, a feral ghoul ? Now a red splatter. A radscorpion ? Turned into a mangled corpse.
The radiation didnāt stop him but the sight of his beloved brother lying on the ground sure did, he picked him up and ran back to his shack, quickly using whatever medication he had on hand to save his life.
He used all he had, Robouteās body sucked up an incredible amount of radiation and Fawkes had only one option left.
Breaking into the nearby pharmacy, the owner be damned.
Roboute awoke a few days later being carried by Fawkes on a makeshift container, his surroundings were vastly different. Gone was the urban wasteland, now making way for a more arid and desert-looking one.
Fawkes didnāt answer robouteās questions outright, they settled near an old publicity board and set up camp when Roboute finally got his answers.
āWhat happened brother ? Why are we so far away from home ?ā he tiredly asked, the travel and set-up taking whatever energy he had left for the day.
Fawkes sighed heavily, a sound that rumbled through Robouteās body yet revealing something between anger and worry.
āDo you know what happened to you and what I had to do to save you ? You ran toward a Green Sea ! The one place I told you not to go and nowā¦ā he tried to calm down āNow⦠I had to betray the trust of some people to get you the help you needed.ā
Roboute never saw his brother like this, it didnāt scare him per se but he felt like he brought shame on him.
Fawkes told him that he had to break into the local pharmacy to steal supplies to save him, a noble act if not for robbing people that had trouble trusting mutants like Fawkes, hence running away becoming a necessity.
āI⦠I am sorry big broth-ā
Fawkes put his massive hand on Robouteās shoulder, āYou learned an important lesson today, they tolerated me because I am smarter than most of my kind and I helped them but now that trust is broken and we both suffer for it. I cannot blame you for enjoying the outside world, it would be cruel but you also disobeyed the only rule I laid out for you. We now have to work together to survive but first⦠eat, work will come later younger brother.ā
Roboute nodded, desperate to make amends.
///
The change of scenery didnāt bother him too much, he missed the shack but discovering more of the world was a fascinating prospect for him, the desert was far less irradiated and proved to be perfect to begin his training in order to survive.
Fawkes was surprised to see how easy it all came to Roboute, he was a skilled gunslinger even at a young age, handling mutated flies and ants quite easily with revolvers and a hunting rifle. Maybe they would actually manage to make a livingā¦
Teenage years :
Roboute was now old enough and surprisingly, adult sized now much to the surprise of Fawkes. They headed together to a nearby town where Fawkes would introduce a very old friend of his : Argus, a local bounty hunter and gunslinger.
Roboute was surprised to see such a bustling town, he was used to small communities or trading hub, not thriving civilizations. Alas, it was also his first meeting with mutants hate.
///
āWatch where youāre going greenskin !ā a passerby shouted, Roboute had half a mind to intervene when Fawkes stilled his hand.
āLeave it, if we answer in a way they dislike then we will be kicked out, besides we will not be here for long.ā
He was not convinced entirely but his brother knew the wasteland and itās inhabitants better than him, he was about to ask more when he heard a commotion at the nearby bar. A mix of insults and a heavy accent were heard before seeing the source of the noise being kicked out.
āFellers around these parts, I swear it was better in Renoā¦ā he dusted himself before seeing Fawkes and a human that was almost his size.
āSakeās alive Fawkes ! You didnāt tell me you watered this human so much he grew up to that size !ā he inspected Roboute by turning around him āDid you feed him radiation ?ā
Fawkes ignored the obvious joke, instead formally presenting the two to each other āRoboute, this is Argus, a very old friend of mine. Argus, this is Roboute, my brother and-ā
āMove freaks !ā another passerby shouted.
Argus sighed, lit up a cigarette and shook Robouteās hand. āA pleasure kid, now I see the way you look at my skin and no Iām not a zombie, Iām what they call a Ghoul. I can quite literally feed off radiation and age very slowly, I think Iām nearing my second century of life.ā
āI was hoping you could train him to survive this world, he is good against small creatures but he will need your help.ā Fawkes continued.
āSure, weāll turn this fella into one tough cookie, hats up kid and letās gather some scraps to make a gun for your hands.ā
///
Argus was quite the teacher, from guns to rifle, scavenging and improvising as the situation required became second nature to Roboute who took on various odd jobs with his pair of revolver, custom made for his hands as well as his own brown jacket to signify his debut as a wasteland explorer.
Argus didnāt hold Robouteās hand when it came to survival, giving him some useful tips if needed but overall just leaving him to his own devices when he went out to explore, which was fairly often as Roboute had trouble with staying in one place. He could be gone for weeks at a time and come back covered in wounds but with full bags of scrap, food or junk to sell.
Over the next few months and coming years Robouteās need to explore became bigger and bigger, he became quite the skilled worker, taking on small jobs like scavenging in old buildings. This wasnāt enough for him and Argus encouraged him to pursue his dreams while Fawkes advised caution.
āThe world is full of dangers Roboute and-ā
āFor Godās sake let the kid enjoy life, what if he breaks a few teeth ? Fellas around these parts deserve a bullet.ā
This moment became special in Robouteās mind as his full name was awarded here as a moment where both Argus and Fawkes trusted him to go out and make a name for himself, it would be cruel to hold him back.
āYou are now Roboute Guilliman, it belonged to a very old friend of mine, use it well kid.ā
āWhat does this full name mean ?ā he asked and Argus grinned.
āIt means Lone Wanderer.ā
Adulthood :
Roboute wasted no time, he left his two brothers to explore the wider world, tamed what most assumed was a horse (difficult to say with the two heads) and soon enough people started telling tale of a giant man in the wasteland and his accomplishments.
Some these includes but are not limited to :
-Helping establish a free state from a gambling city while pushing away two armies along with resolving a tribal conflict not too far away from said city.
-Uncovering numerous vault from before the fall of humanity on his world.
-Defeating the remnants of an old government on an offshore oil rig (unverified)
-And finally, repairing a water purifier to bring fresh, clean water to all inhabitants of the Wasteland near the old capital.
All of these and more were recorded and eventually made their way to his brothers, Fawkes and Argus who seemed pleased to hear the exploits of their younger sibling, he was becoming a legend.
Roboute also became a feared bounty hunter, it is said he was famous for disarming his opponents in duel with such speed and accuracy that even robots had trouble following his movements, he dual wielded them with such efficiency that his sniper rifle was more of a decoration than anything.
His greatest adventure was against the old government still active on his world, he led a one-man crusade against them for years, defeating increasingly greater foes, including a massive green mutant if reports are to be believed until he destroyed their leadership. Roboute was a proponent of freedom and liberty, something he believed to be āa right to all sentient beingsā
Much to his chagrin however he would soon run out of place to visit, such was his drive and thirst for adventures that he almost explored all there was to see in mere years ! Fortunately for him, someone brought a solution to this problem.
The Emperor of Mankind was surprised to see one of his son that preferred exploration to conquest, he was a little jealous in a way, it reminded him of a friend he traveled with in M1, Terra. A man known as Christopher Columbus, he saw much of him in Guilliman, much to his surprise.
///
He approached his son without fanfare, both sat at a campfire sharing bites of something unworthy to be called an animal or food but strangely the Emperor didnāt mind, it would be hypocritical to refuse food in a wasteland.
āQuite the view tonight stranger, I take it youāre not from Ronto or the Junkyard ? Iād remember a face like yours.ā Guilliman started, staring at the night sky.
āIndeed, you are extremely well traveled and many speaks of your achievements, I wanted to see the man behind the legend.ā The Emperor said.
āI hope you are not disappointed, come on, letās share a drink ! Itās made by one of my brothers, itās alcohol distilled from the tail of a radscorpion, it help clear the mind.ā Roboute handed him a small cup filled with the ivory liquid.
The Emperor took one look at the glass before emptying it, despite living for thousands of years and facing foes worse than most could imagine, this little cup made him cough.
āItās a strong brew partner, I only use the meanest radscorpion to make itā Guilliman smiled, drinking from a flask.
āAbsolutely, it has been a while since I last drank something so⦠aggressive. I assume itās a local brew ?ā The Emperor asked, somewhat relaxing in the moment despite his previous embarassment.
āAs local as you can get.ā Guilliman lit up a cigarette and stared at the man in golden armor. āWouldnāt we happen to be related ? Only feller close to my size āround these parts are super mutants and youāre golden instead of green.ā
This simple explanation made him chuckle āI am your father, my son. I searched the stars for you and your brothers, your destiny lies beyond this world and-ā he stopped when Guillimanās hand shot out.
āPartner, my destiny is my own and Iāll be damned if anyone else tries to set my pace for me, I fought old governments and tyrants here, I will not fall for one. Besides I prefer exploring to whatever fate you think should be mine.ā
āMy sonā The Emperorās gaze suddenly hardened āThis is not negotiable, I need your help and you will provide it.ā
Guilliman stood up and walked away, after a sufficient distance was established he turned around and reached for his revolvers.
āYou are the same as those I fought here, thinking fellas owes you respect and obedience because you have a bigger gun . Draw and prove it. You son I may be but you are not my master.ā
The silence was deafening, his visions didnāt predict this, he expected his son to come willingly, excited by the prospect of glory and war. Not cling to childish notions of freedom and exploring nuclear wastelands. The Emperor was almost disappointed, almost.
He rose from his seated position, glaring at his tool, his son, his project. āYou refuse my offer ? Even when I offer you the chance to explore the universe ?ā His eyes shone a golden hue, almost blazing.
āThe chance to conquerā Guilliman corrected āAināt no feller calling himself Emperor of Mankind using peace, youāll have to fight in you want me and I will never be, and I mean never be a tyrant like you, Fatherā he spat the last word as he would a rotten piece of meat.
āA shame, willing or not, the Great Crusade will be the next chapter of your life.ā To his surprise Guilliman drew faster than the old perpetual, the shot went through his wrist, the gun fell to the ground with a loud clang
āEmperor and yet⦠You lost that duel, leave me be, I truly regret it but this galaxy will go on without me, my fate is my own. Please leave me and this world behind.ā
āAdmirable, truly admirable⦠but foolish.ā
Before Guilliman could shoot again or even try to run, his mind was forced to shut down, passing out on the spot. The mighty Lone Wanderer fell to the ground like a rock from a cliff. The Emperor knew this would lead to future conflicts but he trusted the influence of his brothers to calm him down, the thrill of battle and exploring the galaxy should also comfort him.
///
As with everything that has to do with the Emperor one can only speculate as the train of thoughts that led to this outcome, one thing is sure however, Roboute Guilliman was far from happy. It is said by a custodian present at the time that he awoke on the Emperorās personal ship and demanded to be brought back to his world, with little success.
While he didnāt resort to violence, itās rumored he tried to escape several times and even threatened his own father which resulted in further sedating until they reached Terra. Once there Guilliman avoided his father at all cost, it suited both of them just fine, Guilliman would be made aware of his duties and the Emperor would be left alone for whatever work awaited him.
Ironically enough Guilliman was the primarch who was the least bothered about the state of the Throneworld, he grew up in a world that was almost, if not more devastated than this, still he did feel like rebuilding it would be better than leaving it as it is. However this thought was kept to himself.
Why ? Guilliman never had the chance to say goodbye to his adopted brothers, Argus and Fawkes, so he would never address the Emperor and if he had to ? Brief and to the point, he would explore the Galaxy if he had to get away from him.
Then Roboute found his reason to smile again, he met his sons, the 13th astartes Legion called the Ultramarines for their adaptive tactics, easier than most ascension to Astartes status and sheer legion size. His meeting was without fanfare but the emotion was present, he lost his two adopted brothers but he found a legion of sons to care for.
āFamily on my world is a difficult concept to grasp, especially for myself ! I was raised by what most would call abhumans or mutants, things to exterminate rather than understand. I was ripped away from them to stand here in front of you for an Emperor who decided his conquest for the Galaxy was more important than the happiness and choices of his Son ! I say so be it ! He made a choice and I made mine ! This galaxy is ours to explore rather than conquer ! Walk with me today and forever if you choose to for I will not force you, rather Iād respect someone whoād stand up to me rather than blindly follow in my footsteps ! Today the Ultramarines becomes a mobile unit instead of a standing army. I, Roboute Guilliman , the Lone Wanderer brings you on an adventure like no other ! The exploration and mapping of the Galaxy !ā
His speech still told once a year to new aspirants and recently inducted marines.
At once the entire legion applauded and screamed their love for their newfound father, a tall, wild blonde man with an impressive scar over his face and loving, deep blue eyes that spoke of stories waiting to be uncovered.
The Great Crusade :
Roboute Guilliman didnāt wait for official authorization to leave Terra, he gather his men and in a stunning move, told them to āgo wildā, it is said he laughed as some of his marines visibly struggled to understand his request.
Overnight the doctrine of the Ultramarines was changed, they were still highly adaptable but also extremely mobile, creating one of the first instances of āchaptersā instead of the typical Legion doctrine beloved by Horus Lupercal or Sanguinius. His words of āGo wildā were then clearly explained when he told his sons to scatter and explore to their heartās content, only calling for help if needed or the annual regrouping of the Legion where every ultramarine met new or old brother to share stories of exotic world and battle.
Guilliman largely stayed away from the Imperium, calling it a ācrime against humanityā before shooting off into the stars and leaving everyone behind, he followed in LionāEl Jonsonās footsteps and fought the battles he decided to pick, often ignoring direct orders from the Emperor to follow his own instincts and desire.
His finest hour came during the Conquest of Calth located near the ancient Ultramarc League, a former enclave of worlds formed during the DAOT and who partially survived the following Age of Strife. His sons proved themselves as competent mobile units and surprisingly, as excellent scavengers when they turned the local ruins into bases of operations, made bullets from scraps and used the wasteland caused by war as favorable terrain for themselves.
Their speed was also on display, riding bikes and Grav-horses (you read that right), these curious construct were built at his behest, while looking like horses they were mechanical in nature and devilishly fast with the added benefits of looking like the favorite animal of their Primarch.
This unconventional array of tactics and equipment quickly overrun the numerous armies of Calth, earning him many accolades for breaking the first bastion of the old Ultramarc leagues, the rest of the system followed just as quickly, some by force (that Roboute was loath to use) and while others were charmed by the promises of freedom made by the 13th primarch.
This approach to diplomacy made him a complicated figure within the Imperium, on one hand he preached freedom but on the other he was helping a tyrannical regime, a duality he hated with every fiber of his being as he made no secret of his hatred for the Imperium or his āfatherā.
To this day it is hard to find documents related to compliance campaigns he led with his brothers as just like Lionāel Jonson, he preferred going out alone rather than fight with someone else. Records exists of joint compliances with Konrad Curze, Alpharius and Sanguinius although most were short lived as Konrad was busy running the imperius from the shadows, Alpharius went back to Terra and Sanguinius was forbidden from being near the Ultramarines for unknown reasons although some treacherous sources point to the [ENTRY MISSING] as a cause for such a decision.
The Ultramarines also had no homeworld to call home, Roboute Guilliman couldnāt come back to his after being whisked away by the emperor so he declared the galaxy as his home, this led to a very diverse legion in appearance and opinions, creating a unique blend of marines from all walk of life and backgrounds.
As for the other primarchs, Roboute was one of the most unique and his relationship with them proved it. Him, Apharius and Horus were often seen as outcasts while his unique speech pattern often amused most primarchs like him saying āWhat in tarnationā or calling them āFellersā or Folksā.
However he hated Sanguinius with a burning passion for the murder of his two adoptive brothers, nearly going to war against the Blood Angels legion. His relationship with Corvus Corax was also a good one until his brother started using [REDACTED] on his legion.
Roboute Guilliman, drawn by an unknown remembrancer.
Taglist, anyone can be added, just ask me : @fantasticarcadefan @baldieboi , @fallen-angel2470, @bbmgirll, @feral-childs-word, @hai-there-how-are-you, @bonesareburied, @galgefan, @hon3ydewcaram3l, @bonusek, @bbtps, @cupid73, c4tsf4n, @niccocia, @snowfire0313, @synthetic-bug, @randomlyappearingartist, @catabibaz0n, @gilderblade
Word count (not proofread) : 4029
General Masterlist-----Warhammer Masterlist
For those wondering, this is Fawkes and this is Argus (all found on Pinterest) !
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)
Bay Seven smells like ceramite, machine oil and sanctity. You hate it immediately.
There are five of them. Five giant bastards in green armor, all standing at attention like they've got sticks up their asses. Which knowing the Salamanders they probably think is a virtue.
The one in front is obviously the sergeant. His armor's got more purity seals than the others and his face... Emperor's rotting cock, his face is scarred. Not the fun kind of scars either. The 'I survived something horrible and it made me contemplative' kind.
"You must be our new... ally" he says. His voice is like rocks grinding together.
"And you must be the babysitters." You spread your arms. The armor's servos whine. You hate that sound. Your armor used to purr. "I'm Nahl Krayd. I've killed more people than you've saved. This is going to be awful."
One of the other Salamanders steps forward. Younger, you think. Less scarred. "Brother-Sergeant Tho'vus, should we really..."
"Peace, Brother Nak'tal." The sergeant, Tho'vus apparently, doesn't take his eyes off you. "The Inquisitor has commanded it. We serve the Imperium, even in this."
"The Imperium" you mutter. "Right. The Imperium that enslaves psykers, exterminates entire planets for one heretic and feeds a million souls a year to a corpse on a chair."
The collar beeps.
"But sure" you continue, grinning "I AM the bad guy."
Tho'vus stares at you for a long moment. Then he does something you don't expect.
He laughs.
It's a small laugh, barely a chuckle but it's there. "You are going to be very difficult, aren't you?"
"Oh, you have no idea." You look at the rest of them. "So who are you other colorful bastards?"
The young one, Nak'tal, looks offended. "We are the Sons of Vulkan. We are the protectors of the innocent, the guardians of humanity, the flame that burns against the darkness..."
"Yeah, yeah, fire metaphors, I get it. You." You point at a Salamander who has burn scars across his face. "What's your damage?"
"Brother-Apothecary Dak'tar" he says quietly. "I tend to the wounded."
"Great so you'll be busy when I inevitably get shot because I'm wearing the wrong colors." You point at the next one, a big bastard with a flamer. "You?"
"Brother Ha'var. Heavy weapons."
"Of course you are." The last one is checking a bolter, not even looking at you. "And you, edge lord?"
He looks up. "Brother-Librarian Zar'kesh."
A psyker. Oh, this just keeps getting better.
"Fantastic. A boy scout, a medic, a pyromaniac, a witch and..." You squint at Nak'tal. "What's your deal? You seem too enthusiastic."
"I am honored to serve alongside my brothers in the name of the Emperor and Vulkan!"
"He's new" Tho'vus says dryly.
"He's going to die first" You say cheerfully. "I give him three days."
Nak'tal's face goes through several emotions. Offense. Anger. Uncertainty. Finally he settles on: "The Emperor protects!"
"The Emperor's a corpse" you reply. "But sure, let's go with that."
The collar beeps three times in rapid succession.
Tho'vus raises a hand before anyone can speak. "Enough. We have our orders. Nahl Krayd, you will follow our commands and observe our rules. In return you will live. Is this acceptable?"
You look at him. Really look. He's serious. He actually thinks this is going to work. These idiots think they can just... what? Rehabilitate you? Make you see the light?
You've been wearing the skins of my enemies for longer than some of these bastards have been alive.
But the collar's still beeping and your neck is still very attached to your head so you shrug.
"Sure. Why not. This should be hilarious."
Inquisitor Helastus' voice crackles over the vox. "Strike Force Prometheus, you are cleared for departure. May the Emperor guide your path."
"May Vulkan's flame light the way" the Salamanders respond in unison.
You are a Night Lord. You were captured and forced into redemption servitude... with the Salamanders.
You've been alive for more than two hundred years. You've flayed approximately forty thousand people. You've eaten parts of maybe three hundred of them. You once made a man's entire extended family into a wind chime that screamed when the breeze hit it just right.
And yet somehow this is the worst thing that's ever happened to you.
"The green is hideous" you say for the twentieth time.
Inquisitor Helastus doesn't even look up from her dataslate. She's a tall woman and she's wearing that stupid rosette like it means something. "Noted. Again."
"No, you don't understand." You gesture at the power armor they've strapped you into. Salamanders colors. You feel like vomiting just from the colors alone. "This is a war crime. This violates the Edict of Nikaea. The Treaty of Olympus. The... the Laws of Fashion."
"The Laws of Fashion aren't real."
"THEY SHOULD BE!"
The explosive collar around your neck beeps cheerfully. It does that when you raise your voice. Apparently you're supposed to learn not to do that. You've been here six hours and it's beeped four hundred and nine times.
Inquisitor Helastus finally looks at you. "Nahl Krayd. Serial number lost to time. Warband designation: The Screaming Dark. Wanted for fifteen thousand counts of known murder, eight thousand counts of torture, although the suspected number is much higher; six thousand counts of wearing the skins of your victims as hand puppets during planetary invasions..."
"That was one time and it was hilarious."
"... four thousand counts of cannibalism, three thousand counts of defiling Imperial shrines by leaving artistic arrangements of intestines..."
"I call that one 'Still Life with Colon'."
"... and one count of stealing a Chimera APC and joyriding it through a cathedral while screaming 'The Emperor is a corpse and I fucked your mom'."
You grin. Your teeth are filed to points. "Good times."
She sighs. It's the sigh of a woman who has made a terrible mistake but is committed to seeing it through. You know that sigh. You've heard it from every single one of your victims right before they realized you weren't going to kill them quickly.
"You are being assigned to Strike Force Prometheus. You will work with a squad of Salamanders Space Marines on a mission to investigate Chaos cult activity on the hive world of Malavax VII. You will follow orders. You will not kill, maim, flay, eat or psychologically scar any Imperial citizens without direct authorization. You will not remove the armor. You will not remove the collar. If you attempt to escape the collar explodes. If you kill any Salamanders the collar explodes. If you disobey a direct order from me or the Salamanders squad leader the collar explodes. If you try to take the armor off the collar explodes. If you complain too much the collar..."
"Explodes, yeah, I get it." You slump in the restraint throne. "This is because of the candles thing, isn't it?"
For the first time something almost like emotion crosses her face. "You turned forty three Space Marines into human torches."
"Salamanders. They were Salamanders. The irony was exquisite." You lean forward. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to get promethium to burn at exactly the right temperature to keep an Astartes alive while they're on fire? I'm talking precise chemical calculations. That's art."
"That's why you're still alive." She stands. "You're clever. Resourceful. Adaptable. And most importantly you're terrified of dying."
You bare your teeth. "I'm not scared of shit."
The collar beeps.
She smiles. It's not a nice smile. "We'll see. The Salamanders are waiting in Bay Seven. Try not to make them kill you in the first five minutes."
Don't worry, it will get worse (or better, depending on your point of view).
- awkwardly presents them with a perfectly forged ring
- "I made this for you"
- "Ferrus... is this?"
- "If you want it to be?"
- they tackle-hug him
- he's never been happier
Angron
- "No one will want me"
- is genuinely convinced of this
- doesn't try
- his brothers won't let him give up
- "You deserve love too"
- "No, I don't"
- gets dragged to social events
- stands in corners looking angry (he's scared)
- accidentally saves someone from danger
- they thank him
- he doesn't know how to respond
- they keep talking to him
- "Why aren't you afraid?"
- "Should I be?"
- "Everyone else is"
- "I'm not everyone else"
- he avoids them for weeks
- they hunt him down
- "Stop running from me"
- "I'm not running" (he is)
- they wear him down with persistence
- he falls in love but fights it
- they fight back
- proposes during an argument
- "FINE, marry me then if you're so determined to stay!"
- "Was that a proposal?"
- "... yes"
- "Then yes"
- he breaks down crying
Roboute Guilliman
- creates a comprehensive dating strategy
- it fails immediately
- recalculates
- fails again
- has a crisis
- "Why isn't this working?!"
- his sons: "Maybe try... not planning everything?"
- "That's irrational"
- meets someone who throws off all his calculations
- they're chaotic and spontaneous
- he's stressed
- he's also fascinated
- tries to predict their behavior
- fails every time
- it's exciting???
- has an existential crisis about enjoying unpredictability
- they laugh at his spreadsheets
- "You can't calculate love, Roboute"
- "I can try"
- "You'll fail"
- "I know" smiles
- proposes with a detailed plan
- they say yes but insist on changing half of it
- he lets them
- growth!
Mortarion
- "I'm not doing this"
- locks himself away
- his brothers stage an intervention
- "You have 3 months left"
- "Let me face the consequences then"
- gets dragged to events anyway
- makes everyone uncomfortable (he's trying but doesn't know how)
- meets someone in a garden
- they're studying poisonous plants
- "Those will kill you"
- "I know, that's why I'm studying them"
- actually has a conversation
- they meet again by accident
- and again
- he starts going to the garden on purpose
- they notice
- "Are you following me?"
- "... no" (yes)
- they smile
- "Good, I was hoping you would"
- he doesn't understand feelings
- they're patient
- proposes very awkwardly
- "You should... stay. With me. Forever."
- "Is that a proposal?"
- "If you want it to be"
- "Then yes"
Magnus the Red
- "I'll use sorcery to find my perfect match!"
- this backfires spectacularly
- summons the wrong person multiple times
- accidentally creates a minor warp incident
- the Emperor: "MAGNUS"
- "It was a small warp incident!"
- tries regular dating
- reads minds accidentally
- "You're thinking about..."
- "STOP READING MY MIND"
- "I can't help it!"
- gets banned from several venues
- meets someone who's psychically null
- can't read their mind at all
- it's fascinating
- "What are you thinking?"
- "You'll have to ask me like a normal person"
- falls in love with the mystery
- courts them with ancient poetry
- accidentally sets things on fire when nervous
- proposes surrounded by floating candles
- some of them are on fire
- "Is this... safe?"
- "Probably not, but is that a yes?"
- "You're ridiculous. Yes."
Horus Lupercal
- "I'll have no problem finding someone"
- has many problems
- everyone wants him for his status
- he wants someone genuine
- goes on many dates
- they're all superficial
- gets discouraged
- meets someone who doesn't know who he is
- they're not impressed by his rank
- "You're kind of full of yourself"
- he's shocked
- also intrigued
- pursues them
- they make him work for it
- he's never tried this hard for anything
- realizes he actually likes the challenge
- they call him out when he's being fake
- "I want the real you, not the Warmaster"
- he shows them
- they stay
- proposes without any of his usual charm
- just sincere and vulnerable
- "I love you. Please marry me."
- "There you are. Yes."
Lorgar Aurelian
- becomes obsessed with finding "the one"
- reads every religious text about soulmates
- prays for guidance
- has a vision (maybe???)
- follows the vision
- gets lost
- ends up in a random library
- meets a librarian
- talks about theology for 6 hours
- they debate scripture
- he's in love
- visits the library every day
- brings them books
- writes them poetry
- illuminates a whole manuscript for them
- they're overwhelmed but touched
- he proposes with a hand-written book
- "I've written our story, will you help me write the rest?"
- they're crying
- he's crying
- everyone's crying
- it's beautiful
Vulkan
- "I'll know them when I meet them!"
- is optimistic
- meets many people
- they're all wonderful
- but not quite right
- doesn't get discouraged
- keeps looking
- helps everyone he meets anyway
- meets someone at a forge
- they're teaching children metalwork
- his heart just... knows
- they work together
- laugh together
- he makes them little gifts
- they make him things too
- it's natural and easy
- proposes while forging together
- "Will you let me keep your fire burning forever?"
- they understand immediately
- "Yes"
- it's the sweetest thing
- everyone happy-cries at the wedding
Corvus Corax
- "I can't do this"
- hides
- really well
- his brothers can't find him
- month 11: the Emperor is looking for him
- gets found
- "You have 2 weeks"
- panics
- accidentally literally runs into someone
- they don't recognize him
- "Sorry!"
- they talk
- he doesn't have to perform
- keeps meeting them accidentally-on-purpose
- they figure out who he is
- "You're a Primarch??"
- "Please don't treat me differently"
- "... okay"
- they don't
- he's so relieved
- proposes in a shadowy corner
- very quietly
- "Would you... I mean... only if you want..."
- "Corvus. Yes."
- "I didn't finish..."
- "Don't care. Yes."
Alpharius and Omegon
- "We have a plan"
- the plan is chaos
- they both try to date separately
- keep running into each other's dates
- "What are YOU doing here?"
- "What are YOU doing here?"
- it's a mess
- eventually meet someone who figures out there's two of them
- "So which one of you am I dating?"
- "Yes"
- "That's not an answer"
- "It is for us"
- somehow they're okay with this
- the courtship is bizarre
- neither knows who's meeting them when
- proposes in stereo
- both at the same time
- "Will you marry us?"
- "Which one?"
- "Both"
- "This is insane"
- "Is that a yes?"
- "... yes"
- the wedding has two grooms
- or one groom twice
- nobody knows
The Emperor 11 months later:
"They all... actually did it?"
Malcador: "I'm as shocked as you are, my lord."
The Emperor: "I expected at least five of them to fail."
Malcador: "Curze almost did."
The Emperor: "But he didn't. They're all married now."
Malcador: "Yes. Should we tell them it was a test of their ability to adapt to impossible social situations?"
The Emperor: "Absolutely not. Let them be happy."
Meanwhile the Primarchs in group chat:
Guilliman: "Did anyone else feel like that was a test?"
Lion: "Obviously."
Horus: "We all passed though"
Fulgrim: "Some of us with more grace than others"
Perturabo: "Says the one who had a breakdown over hair"
Fulgrim: "IT WAS AN IMPORTANT BREAKDOWN"
Alpharius: "Bold of you to assume we got married"
Omegon: "Bold of you to assume we didn't"
Corvus: "I'm still not sure how this happened"
Vulkan: "Love, brother! :)"
Mortarion: "Ugh"
Angron: "Same"
Tumblr originally deleted what I wrote so I was like "fuck it" and made it much dumber than it originally was! Although I hope it's still enjoyable! <3
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
The first time you noticed something was off you told yourself you were imagining it.
It was small. Loken had walked you back to your quarters after a late briefing which was normal enough, he was polite like that, always the gentlest one. But then you'd mentioned offhand that you were thinking of requesting a transfer to a different fleet vessel, just for a change of pace and something in his face had gone very, very still.
"Why would you want to do that" he said. Not a question. Just four words, flat and quiet and his eyes didn't move off your face at all.
You laughed it off. He laughed it off too a moment later and it was fine.
You didn't put in the transfer request.
The Mournival was not supposed to have favorites. They were the Warmaster's counsel, his four sons in spirit if not in blood, the blunt instrument of his internal politics. They argued, they advised, they kept each other honest. That was the point of them.
You were a remembrancer. Technically. You'd been embedded with the 63rd Expedition for long enough that the distinction had gotten blurry. You knew the Sons of Horus better than most of the Legion's own serfs did. You'd eaten meals with them. You'd sat in on arguments that should have gotten you killed just for witnessing.
You understood in retrospect by now that was probably where the problem started.
Aximand was the subtle one.
He never said anything outright. He'd just appear reliably whenever you were somewhere you probably shouldn't have been or whenever someone else was talking to you for too long. He had this way of inserting himself into a conversation that felt completely natural until you thought about it afterward and realized he'd redirected the entire thing without anyone noticing. Including you.
You'd been getting friendly with one of the iterators, a perfectly nice man named Castor who had interesting opinions about Terran philosophy and very kind eyes. Three conversations in Aximand had joined the third one and somehow by the end of it Castor had volunteered himself for a particularly demanding documentation assignment on a different ship.
When you mentioned to Aximand that you hadn't seen Castor lately he shrugged with complete serenity.
"He seemed ambitious" he said. "I helped him find an opportunity."
You believed him. You don't know why you believed him. You think about that a lot now.
Torgaddon was the one who made it hardest to be scared.
He was funny. Genuinely funny and he'd clearly figured out early on that making you laugh was the fastest route to making you comfortable and he used that knowledge the way a surgeon uses a blade.
He'd started finding reasons to be wherever you were working. Just sitting nearby and not bothering you, sometimes reading, sometimes just existing in your peripheral vision like a very large and heavily armored piece of furniture. When you pointed this out he grinned like you'd said something delightful.
"You're the most interesting person on this ship" he said. "The others are all the same, I've known them for decades, they're boring. You're new."
"I've been here for three years" you said.
"Still newer than decades" he said and reached over and stole a piece of your food like it was the most natural thing in the world.
But you'd seen him once when he didn't know you were watching. You'd come around a corner and he was speaking quietly to two junior remembrancers who'd recently asked to spend time with you for a collaborative project. Whatever he was saying they looked uncomfortable. One of them had nodded quickly, the way you nod when you want a conversation to be over.
The project got quietly shelved. Neither of them would quite meet your eyes after that.
The one you should have been most afraid of was Abaddon and to your credit some part of you always knew it.
He was the most honest about it in his way. Abaddon didn't bother with subtlety because he didn't see the need for it. He operated on the assumption that what he wanted was simply what would happen and he looked at you with this calm, total attention that made your skin feel too small.
"You're going to stay" he told you once completely unprompted while you were reviewing some footage from a compliance action.
You looked up. "What?"
"With the expedition. You're going to stay." He said it the same way he'd say the sun rises in the east. "I've been thinking about it. The others have been thinking about it. You belong here."
"I don't think that's really your decision" you said carefully.
He looked at you for a long moment. There was nothing threatening in his expression. There was nothing in his expression at all actually which was somehow worse.
"No" he agreed and went back to what he was doing.
You had the very strong and very irrational feeling that the matter was, in his mind, closed.
The thing was that they were kind to you. That was the part that kept you off balance, kept you second guessing your own instincts. They were attentive and generous and protective in ways that felt good, felt safe right up until the moment you bumped up against the edges of what they would allow and then it got cold very fast.
You'd asked once directly and looking at all four of them because some perverse instinct told you that was safer than asking alone, whether they'd been interfering with your communications. Just your communications. Just to see.
The silence lasted about three seconds.
"Define interfering" Torgaddon said pleasantly.
"Why would we do that" said Aximand.
"Your communications are your own" said Loken and he sounded like he meant it and his eyes were steady and sincere and gave you absolutely nothing.
Abaddon didn't say anything at all. He was looking at you the way you might look at something you own.
You said never mind. You laughed a little. You let it go.
What else were you going to do? Where were you going to go?
That was the thing they understood, the thing that sat at the bottom of all of it like a stone. They were the Mournival. 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 were very far from home.
And they were very, very patient.
The last thing Loken said to you that night while walking you back to your quarters again was quiet and almost gentle.
"You seem worried lately" he said. "You should tell us if something's wrong. We'd want to know."
"I'm fine" you said.
He smiled. It was a warm smile, a genuine one and that was the most unsettling thing about Loken that he could mean it completely and still be what he was.
"Good" he said. "That's good. We'd hate for anything to upset you."
He waited until you were inside with the door closed before he left.
You stood in the dark for a while and thought about the transfer request you'd never filed and the iterator with the kind eyes who'd gone somewhere else and the way Abaddon had said you belong here like it was geography.
They would be there in the morning. They were always there in the morning.
Then you got into bed because there was nothing else to do.
In a society where almost everyone has a quirk, being quirkless is a social death sentence. You are seen as weak, weird or barely worth acknowledging but what happens when you do something about it ? What happens when you create something out of nothing ?
This is the type of question that your father always asked you, you didn't have a quirk but you had your brains ! You studied hard any subject you could get your hands on, you learned them ! You understand how to build cities, how to maintain buildings and repair infrastructures.
"How can this help a hero ?" Some may ask. It help you fight well, the city is your playground and you know how to use it against your opponent.
But why do all of this ? What happened to push you toward this path of vigilantism ? Illegal as it is in a society filled with heroes trained in school.
The Origin :
It all started during a school trip to a zoo, a normal day where you and your classmates looked at all the animals, pointed at one they liked or hated, asking and answering questions.
Then it all changed, shots were fired and people were wounded. Your father, being the teacher, took action and rushed you all in a room near another exhibit, the bat exhibit.
He told you, smiling despite it all, "do not open this door no matter what y/n".
This was the last time you ever heard him, he died protecting his son and his students, a true heroic sacrifice, one life to save many.
Police were called, heroes arrived too late to truly save anyone and only one took the time to assess the damage, Aizawa.
He was also the one to pull you out of the exhibit, he could tell this whole event traumatized you. After all, what child is ready to see his father being gunned down, to have his whole life altered in the span of a day ?
This day, as horrible as it was, filled you with the resolve to be better. To fight for the weak, rise against those abusing their powers or too drunk on it to help the common folk.
It brings us back to the question at the beginning, you learned all of this to be the hero people needed, an icon to inspire others and put fear into the wicked.
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.
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
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."