ok so this is kinda dumb and a lil silly but like. what do you think the primarchs would think seeing their beloved be a terrible/ugly sleeper? like they walk in to check on their beloved and their s/o is just sound asleep in bed, messy tangled hair, snoring, in an awkward position, and taking up half the bed (which is a feat in and of itself considering its primarch sized lol) would the primarchs find it endearing? embarrassing? funny?
Primarchs discovering that they beloved is an ugly sleeper
Lion El’Jonson
He entered the room silently only to check whether his beloved is resting properly but instead he finds them sprawled diagonally across the enormous bed, hair covering half their face, mouth slightly open, one arm hanging over the edge. The s/o snore and the Lion stops and looks toward the door checking whether anyone else witnessed this catastrophic breach of dignity. The s/o rolls over and somehow expands farther occupying the bed even more which should be physically impossible. The Lion studies the situation like an unfamiliar battlefield. Eventually he carefully moves one strand of hair away from their mouth so they don’t eat it in their sleep. He finds it endearing but will never admit it, if anyone else sees his beloved sleeping like this they are sworn to silence.
Fulgrim
Fulgrim is horrified by seeing his beloved sleeping face down, hair tangled into a nest, one cheek crushed against the pillow, snoring softly with absolutely no regard for symmetry.
“My love.” He approaches. “My beautiful, exquisite-” The beloved snorts in their sleep and turns over with the grace of a collapsing building. Fulgrim covers his mouth trying not to laugh. The situation is deeply undignified and also unbearably adorable. He takes a picture for private appreciation later and gently arranges the blankets, trying to move their hair into something less catastrophic but gives up when they immediately rub their face against the pillow and ruin it again.
Perturabo
He initially assumes something is wrong because the sleeping position is structurally impossible. One leg is twisted sideways, one arm is beneath the pillow, their neck is positioned at an angle that should result in immediate mechanical failure and somehow they have occupied nearly the entire bed. “How.” Perturabo walks around it slowly analyzing. His beloved snores and Perturabo frowns. He attempts to move them into a healthier position but they immediately roll back. He tries again, they expand sideways and steal his pillow. Perturabo becomes increasingly offended by the inefficiency of sleep until his beloved mumbles his name in their sleep and reaches blindly toward him. All frustration disappears. The next morning there is a new custom pillow support system beside the bed. No explanation is provided.
Jaghatai Khan
He takes one look and laughs delightedly. His beloved is lying sideways across the bed, hair everywhere, blankets kicked off, one foot somehow resting on the headboard.
“How did you get there?” They snore in response and he finds the whole thing hilarious, especially the fact that such a small person has conquered a bed built for a Primarch. He tries to climb in but there is no room, his beloved somehow claimed all available territory. Jaghatai gently shifts them and they immediately roll toward him and throw one arm over his chest… now he is trapped. He grins, great outcome. In the morning, he tells them everything and even imitates the snoring.
Russ
He thinks it’s the cutest thing he has ever seen. His beloved is tangled in blankets, hair wild, snoring openly, occupying most of the bed like a victorious warlord. “Look at you.” Russ stands there grinning. “Conquered the whole territory, have you?” The beloved makes a strange noise and hugs a pillow tighter, Russ laughs so loudly they almost wake up. He doesn’t care about snoring or messy hair for his are even worse. He climbs into the bed and simply picks his beloved up, places them on top of him and goes to sleep. Problem solved.
Dorn
He observes the situation in silence. His beloved is asleep diagonally with hair tangled and mouth open, their breathing occasionally produces a soft whistle and they are occupying an unreasonable percentage of the mattress. Dorn calculates available sleeping space. He attempts to move one pillow and the beloved immediately claims the newly opened area. He tries adjusting the blanket and they steal it. Finally he lies on the edge of the bed with perfect posture while his beloved sleeps like a natural disaster beside him. He finds it endearing but simply doesn’t display this in obvious ways. On the next day the bed is swapped for one wider.
Konrad Curze
Curze enters expecting vulnerability and perhaps something delicate but instead he finds his beloved sleeping like they were thrown down a staircase. He stares and smiles slowly, a strange soft expression nobody is supposed to see. He finds it bizarrely precious and insults them with great tenderness. “You are hideous.” His beloved snores louder. “Repulsive.” He gently moves the hair away from their nose. He becomes violently protective of their sleeping privacy, only he is allowed to witness the creature beneath the blankets.
Sanguinius
His beloved is sleeping sprawled across the bed with tangled hair, one knee raised, face squashed into a pillow and making tiny snoring noises. Sanguinius lets out a genuine helpless smile because there is something deeply comforting about them feeling safe enough to sleep terribly around him. He gently sits beside them, the beloved shifts and takes up even more space. Sanguinius laughs softly and carefully wraps the wings around them.
Ferrus
He assumes they are injured because no one sleeps in that position voluntarily. Their arm is bent beneath them, the hair is tangled across their face and one leg is completely outside the blankets. Ferrus walks over and examines closely, they snore and he relaxes slightly. He notices they have taken over most of the bed. He nudges them. Nothing. He tries moving their leg and they immediately kick the blanket farther away. The next morning he bluntly informs how remarkably inefficient they are while unconscious.
Angron
He enters quietly and his beloved is completely unconscious with hair tangled, blankets twisted, one arm stretched over his pillow and snoring softly. They are defenseless, peaceful and safe. Angron stands there for a long moment. The beloved makes a ridiculous sound in their sleep and Angron almost laughs. He walks closer and simply sits beside them, they shift toward his warmth immediately without hesitation. He doesn’t understand why but that makes him emotional. He carefully moves one blanket over their shoulder.
Roboute Guilliman
He comes in intending to check whether his beloved is sleeping properly. Technically they are but their hair is everywhere and they have taken up an astonishing amount of space. Guilliman studies the situation and the remaining six inches of mattress. He tries gently rotating them into a safer position and they immediately return to the original one. He adjusts the pillow and they throw it onto the floor. He quickly realizes that sleep can’t be administrated while the beloved sleeps on. He tries to lie down beside them but there is still no room so he ends up sleeping at an awkward angle. “We may benefit from a larger bed.” He says the next morning.
Mortarion
He sees the beloved sleeping badly and immediately approves of the sheer honesty of it, for he finds the lack of performance strangely comforting. He doesn’t move or correct their position and lets them occupy most of the bed. He has endured worse conditions. The next morning he will tease with brutal honesty.
Magnus the Red
Magnus finds the entire thing fascinating. His beloved is asleep in a position he has never seen documented in any anatomical text and occupying almost the entire bed. He considers using telekinesis to reposition them but decides against it because somehow they look comfortable. He sits nearby reading. Every few minutes they produce a strange noise and Magnus looks over every time. Eventually they roll over and throw one arm across his lap so Magnus stays completely still so he doesn’t wake them. The next morning he delightedly explains that they demonstrated seven distinct sleeping positions. He counted.
Horus
He sees his beloved sleeping like a disaster and instantly smiles without hesitation. He loves it. The fact that someone so small has conquered an enormous bed is intimate and real. Nobody else but him gets this version of them. He sits beside them and gently brushes hair away from their face, the beloved answers by snoring directly against his hand. He laughs and takes a picture for affection but also possibly for teasing.
Lorgar
He finds it spiritually beautiful and makes everyone uncomfortable about it. His beloved is sprawled across the bed completely without dignity and Lorgar sees profound meaning, they trust him and have surrendered consciousness beside him without fear. “There is holiness even in this.” He whispers.
Vulkan
He is overwhelmingly affectionate and thinks every part is precious. Vulkan smiles so warmly the room may actually get brighter. He could easily move them but he doesn't, instead he carefully climbs into the remaining space. The beloved rolls closer, he pulls the blanket over them both. If they wake embarrassed Vulkan laughs and kisses their forehead.
Corvus Corax
He is quietly amused, tender and slightly impressed. He watches from the doorway and smiles slightly. It’s a rare sight and they look completely unguarded. Corvus retrieves the blanket and places it over them, they immediately kick one foot out. He adjusts it again and the foot returns. He accepts defeat and sits in the nearby chair, reading. When the beloved wakes up he shows them a small sketch, he tenderly documented the territorial expansion.
Alpharius Omegon
One twin enters, sees their beloved sleeping sideways occupying nearly the entire enormous bed and leaves. The other twin enters, sees the same thing and leaves. They return together and their beloved shifts taking even more space. In the morning they proudly inform the beloved that they successfully denied two Primarchs access to their own bed.
You tried it exactly once, fake moaning for simon, head tossed back and all breathy. A real convincing act in your opinion.
"....what the fock was tha'?" Ghost freezes above you mid-thrust. Forearm braced above your head, breath hot against the curve of your neck.
Ghost is the space between a pulled trigger and the target it hits, the breathe of every soldier on a battle field. You should know nothing gets past him. You whine, low and needy and intentional, squeeze around his cock and push at his chest "c'mon si...why did you stop?"
Ghost narrows his eyes, fully sits up until he's resting on his heels, arms crossed and thighs keeping your legs spread open. "Stop that. Fuckin– stop it."
You twist in the sheets like a trapped animal, try to entice him to keep moving. Using all those tricks because you know he likes it from the way his cock twitches—
"I. Said. Stop." Two large hands pin you down, and when you finally meet ghost's eyes he looks furious "thought I wouldn't notice that fake shit? Fuckin' mocking me?"
Your stomach twists when he thrusts in, slow and deep, studying your every expression. "You think i can't make you scream? Can't please you?"
"You do! Si– you do please me–" you try to plead, clenching tight at the next thrust. "It's not because of that! You feel good, I promise–"
"Then what? Huh?" Another, deeper thrust that has your mind nearly shutting off from pleasure. His whole body rolls into it, more consciously putting on a performance for you now.
"It's...I...I don't make noise, si. I'm not loud." You whisper, face pinched. "I didn't want you to think I'm not enjoying it..."
For a moment, ghost just stares at you.
He lowers himself down, muscles moving under skin like a predator stalking prey. Full of potential to ruin you. His arms cage you in until all you can focus on is ghost.
"I want to hear you. Got it? Don't care what it sounds like so long as 's you." He grumbles, really settles his weight back into you.
Tentatively, you nod.
"Good. See? Wasn't so hard, now was it?" He pulls nearly all the way out, tucks back into your neck, and fucks you like he's trying to prove a point.
Quiet gasps, small whimpers and nothing more falls from your lips. Your orgasm is silent only in voice when you rake your hands along his back hard enough to break skin. When you have to bite into his shoulder after the second.
Later, ghost will wear the wounds like a badge of honor. He does need fake moans when he's got all the proof of your pleasure burned into his skin.
today I saw a pair of fellow tumblrinas (gender neutral) arguing over how fuckable roboute guilliman is. now, I think every person should be allowed to decide a blorbo’s fuckability for themselves. however, a blorbo’s knowledge of sex should be derived from their lore. roboute guilliman is a micromanaging administrator. this man has definitely written multiple sex ed courses, concocted safe sex campaigns, and very possibly distributed flavored condoms. forget about your fuckability debates and please take a moment to imagine THIS guy
telling you to Wrap It Up to prevent space aids or whatever
This feels so rushed but this section alone is also over 6k words and this entire fic was not planned to be this long </3 Anyway enjoy
Light Horus x reader.
"Her ladyship is seeing no one at the moment."
He stares down at your aide, who looks back at him with a blank expression. You've been refusing any kind of visitor for days now, moving only from your rooms to your office and back. He's been hearing that you haven't been eating much, either.
Damn it. If his father caught wind of this, he'd be pissed. Furious even- and Abaddon would deserve it for failing him at what should be a simple task again.
All he had to do was find out who was behind all the trouble regarding you. It shouldn't be this difficult! You shouldn't be acting this difficult! It makes him wonder if the traitorous weasel had gotten into your head at some point in recent days and whispered things to you that were untrue.
He lets out an annoyed sigh through his nose, jaw tight.
Maybe he should just clear them all out. Then you could re-staff the house with people more to your liking and this farce will finally be over.
But then again, if the bad egg is one of his brothers, that was a different problem that required a different solution.
Damn it damn it damn it!
He needed to speak with you. Needed to find out what's changed, and fast. His father was returning soon, and he would be expecting answers. Answers Abaddon currently didn't have.
He looks past the aide at the closed door of your office where you were tucked away busy with your duties. He stares at it as if you could feel his gaze from the other side, as if it would surely open any second and you'd bless him with the smile he had no right to after his past behavior towards you.
"Fine." He knew every hall and hidden door in this house. He'd find another way to get to you.
-
The back corridors near your rooms were not made for someone of his size in the slightest. They were cramped and uncomfortable for even a baseline human- it was honestly a miracle he was able to get through them at all.
To be fair, he supposed, your rooms were never supposed to have you in them. The space they'd scrambled to make yours had been previously used as storage space and spare rooms for the occasional guest. They weren't originally made to have someone important enough for an astartes to need to check in on them quietly like this.
But it was fine. He'd suffer through the tight space only this one time, because afterwards he'd make sure you didn't close your door to him again.
He was your- you were his father's wife for fuck's sake. He'd been putting in the effort to make sure you felt more safe around him than before, so there should be no reason for you to act like this. Clearly something has gone wrong, and he was going to find out what it is and you were going to return to normal.
His hand finds the small door that would lead him directly into your space and he pauses, listening. He can hear you shuffling about, humming an idle tune to yourself. It was a nice sound, one he knew would have his father melting faster than your hesitant touch whenever he got close enough.
How did you really not see it? How his father tripped over himself for you? He'd sent you gift after gift, giving you everything you could have ever wanted to make up for the time he couldn't spend with you. Shit, he'd been working tirelessly since you married so that he could put things on hold and be here with you for a good, long while.
Abaddon had determined something was very very wrong with your communication with each other extremely quickly once he began actually paying attention to you. It was something he should have caught so much earlier, and it sat at the top of his list of things to mend before his father's return.
No more miscommunications. No more misunderstandings.
He was going to fix it. And he was going to make sure his stupid brothers got in line too. But first- he had to deal with what was immediately in front of him.
"One step at a time," You'd said once, more to yourself than anyone else, and you were right. Thinking too far ahead would only get him in trouble.
He takes a breath, steeling himself for your reaction to his sudden appearance, and pushes through the tiny door into your private space. The sound has you startling and whirling around, mouth parting in a gasp. He just barely manages to raise a hand and bark out a rushed "It's just me," before you can fully panic.
"Abaddon!" His name comes out of you in a rush of air. "What in the world are you doing?!"
"You've been avoiding everyone. I'm here to make sure you haven't completely lost your senses," Perhaps he could have said that in a different way. He sees how his words and sharp tone makes your face twist.
"You couldn't come through the actual door like a normal person?" You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. A protective stance. You were blocking yourself off from him again.
"Would you have opened it had I done that?"
The silence tells him everything he needs to know.
"You have made my point, Lady Lupercal."
You look away from him.
"Fine," You mumble. Then you drop your arms to your sides and square your shoulders, looking up at him with a pride that can only come from being his father's lady. It makes him smile a little- you were slowly breaking away from your timidity and finally coming into your own. "As you can see, I'm perfectly fine."
"Are you?"
"I am. I've simply been busy and have had no time to deal with anything other than preparing for your father's return home. I was notified terribly last minute that several things I ordered for the feast I planned either have not arrived or have arrived incorrect," You say, and for a moment he dares to believe you. Things like that happened, mistakes got made. But there was more to it. There had to be.
"If you need things handled, that is what I am here for-"
"I don't want your false kindness, Abaddon. I've had quite enough of it, actually."
That brings him up a bit short. Sure, he maybe wasn't the best, but his growing affection for you was nowhere near false. He was kinder to you because he'd finally gotten close enough to see what he'd been blind to. So then…
"Someone is telling you things." He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the words slip from his mouth regardless. You look at him with an expression he can't quite place.
"No one is telling me anything," You say.
"Clearly they are, otherwise you wouldn't be repeating it."
You open and close your mouth several times and he can see all the different ways you want to respond flit through your eyes.
"The only thing I may be repeating is words that have come from your own mouth, Abaddon. If you honestly think I don't hear what is said within my own home, you are so very, painfully wrong."
He should just feed himself to the nearest beast. Should put himself on his knees and let his father take his head from his shoulders. Because of course you heard him, and he can pinpoint exactly when you heard him.
He'd known someone was there. They all had. But he hadn't thought for a moment that it could have been you. He'd spoken under the assumption that different ears were listening, and now he was going to have to figure out how to fix it.
No more miscommunication, his mind reminds him. No more misunderstandings.
"Let me explain-" He takes a step forward. You take a step back.
"I don't want to hear excuses. I heard well enough how you really feel, there is no sweeping this under the rug."
"I'm not trying to-"
"Please just go. Return to your duties and-"
His impatience gets the better of him. He moves quickly, grabbing you by the shoulders and shaking them a little with a snap of your name. It silences you immediately, and has you looking up at him with wide eyes.
Damn it. He didn't want to scare you. But if this was the only way you would hear what he had to say, then he'd live with it, and make up for it for as long as it takes.
"Listen to me," He says, lowering his voice but still holding onto you. "Someone is stealing from you, purposefully fumbling your orders and plans, and forcing distance between you and people you should not be distanced from. I am trying to figure out who it is, and how deep this trechery goes."
"What-"
"I spoke the way that I did because I knew someone was listening. I thought it may have been the culprit, and wanted them to believe that I was on their side so that they might make the mistake of showing themselves."
"Why," You breathe. "Is this the first I'm hearing of anything like this?"
"The only people who know are myself and my father, who gave the order to investigate. I've told no one, not even my brothers in the Mournival so that I can avoid being found out before I can solve what's been going on."
It was such a weak excuse, but at least he was being truthful. He hoped you could at least see that.
"I should have told you sooner," He says when you go far too long without responding. "I didn't want to cause you more alarm than necessary. I…am sorry."
You blink up at him, at his first spoken apology to you. He doesn't like how you look when you cry, but he forces himself to maintain eye contact, now worried that anything he did may have you refusing to believe him.
"So," Your voice is shaky. "To clarify. You don't hate me and want me dead?"
The way you word the question makes him want to laugh- it does make him laugh, head shaking. He finally releases you and lowers himself, kneeling at the feet of his lady.
"You are my father's wife," He says. "You may not be my favorite person in the world, but I would never be so foolish as to wish you genuine harm."
You huff out a laugh and wipe at your eyes.
"Yeah? What about the rest of you?"
"My brothers are their own kind of idiot. They will come around soon enough, even if I have to force them."
-
He can feel the weight of his brother's stare between his shoulderblades, but he does not turn, far too focused on his current task. After finally getting you to talk a little more, he'd narrowed his list of suspects down a surprising amount.
Amazing what happens when people speak to one another, he muses to himself. I should have done this sooner.
According to you, the only people you spent any real time interacting with other than him, and the occasional attempt to reach out to his brothers, is your aide and a small handful of servants. How he didn't realize you were so isolated when you definitely should not have been, he had no idea. But his blindness to your plights aside, he believes he may have his answer.
One of the servants had come with you from your family home. A final gift from your parents to help you 'settle in,' apparently. He was supposed to leave once you'd gotten comfortable, and as far as Abaddon could tell, has long overstayed his welcome.
He had access to you, your private rooms, and your office. He often brought you meals, and the more Abaddon thought about it, the more he began to realize that this leech was the one who was near constantly sending his father away, claiming that you were either too busy, or not in the mood to be seen.
It makes Abaddon deeply angry in a way he hasn't been in a while. But mostly at himself. He should have seen this, should have put the pieces together before there were so many of them scattered about the metaphorial board. He was a son of Horus, damn it! He was supposed to be intelligent!
He taps the screen of the data slate in irritated thoughtfulness.
They were all supposed to be intelligent. As their father's most elite and faithful sons, the Mournival held his favor and his trust. It was their duty to lead their other brothers to glorious victory in every battle, regardless of where it was taking place. So the fact that the four of them were failing this badly in a war happening within the sacred halls of their father's home where his most treasured wife was in clear and present danger was…odd.
Things like this didn't just happen. This kind of isolation was carefully planned and carried out slowly over time with consistent effort to maintain the wall. But with enough pressure, the little inconsistencies start to show.
It was clear now that he cared to look that whoever the culprit was- be it this servant or a different one- hadn't expected him to get close to you, nor for you to open up in any way. They'd been watching you, watching your reactions, making plans around your timidity as if something like that could never change. As if you had always been that way, and would always be that way.
But his father chose you for a reason. Because he saw a fire in you that others didn't, and Abaddon had been pulling that out of you little by little every day for the past several weeks. You were coming to life in ways that were unexpected to everyone involved, and he was beginning to wonder if someone had given you the idea to listen to his conversation with his brothers the other night. It wouldn't take much, just the whisper of a hint is all it takes, and the seed could have been planted in you a while ago.
"Wretched son of a-"
"Who's got you all riled up, brother?" Loken finally asks, tired of just watching him stew in silence. "The precious Lady causing you more strife?"
The look Abaddon shoots him has Loken flinching back a bit.
"Seems perhaps I touched a nerve," Loken tries to chuckle, but it falls flat and uncomfortable.
"What do you want?" Abaddon asks.
"Well I was going to ask if you wanted to join the rest of us for some training drills," Loken says, "But now I'm curious as to what's got you all pissy."
"I'm not-" He cuts himself off, letting out a harsh breath through his nose, forcing himself to calm down a little. He wants to say that it's none of Loken's business, that he can take his nosiness elsewhere, and to leave him alone. But he'd promised you that he would get his brothers in line, and the first step to that was getting them informed.
"This household is in fucking shambles, and none of us saw it happen," He starts.
"Oh?" Now that certainly got his brother's attention. Abaddon gestures for him to come all the way into the room, and shut the door. He didn't want his words filtering out to those who had no business hearing them.
He takes a breath, and explains.
Loken already knew about the theft- they all got lectured by their father for nearly an hour over it- but Abaddon fills him in on the rest. The crossed wires and mixed messages. The distance that an outside party had forced between you and them and Horus. He told Loken of his suspicions, and admitted to his own blind idiocy as well as the lie he spoke to his brothers the other night.
His brother sits and listens, taking everything in with a thoughtful expression, and when Abaddon finishes, he lets the words sit between them in silence while he processes it all.
"Are you certain it's not the lady herself?" Loken asks slowly. "I've started paying a bit more attention to her, she doesn't seem the type, but if she really wanted to leave, it's possible she-"
"It's not," Abaddon insists. "Unlike the rest of you, I actually spend real time with her. Someone looking to leave wouldn't put nearly as much time and effort into the things she does for all of us."
Loken hums, and scratches his jaw.
"Now that I think about it, I do find it odd that the lady's actions never quite fit the rumors that get whispered around here."
"What rumors?"
Loken looks surprised, his eyebrows raising.
"You haven't heard?"
"No- I haven't heard anything about her other than-" Other than what his other brothers told him. Things he learned to be painfully untrue the moment he gave you a sliver of his time and genuine attention.
The two look at each other for a long time, realization dawning on them both.
"Someone's been controlling information," Loken says. "And since no one other than you has actually paid any attention to her-"
"Lady Lupercal has been unable to defend herself," Abaddon finishes. "And we have let the words of others keep us from defending her in turn."
Loken rubs a hand down his face, letting out a sigh.
"What's that ancient Terran saying? Something about egg on our faces?" He tries to joke, but it once again falls flat.
"Father put me in charge of solving this disaster and putting things back in order," Abaddon says. "I have tried to do it alone, but things are more complicated than I first realized."
"I'll get Aximand and Torgeddon," Loken stands from his seat. "We should start with where our wires are crossed, and get ourselves in order before we can deal with the rest of it."
"Be quick and quiet. We don't want to expose what we're doing before we know who's responsible."
Loken nods, and slips out the door.
Abaddon looks at where his brother disappeared, relief settling in his chest. Loken believed him, and if he knew the others as he believed he did, Aximand and Torgeddon would as well. The four of them were close, closer than they were with any of their other brothers within the Luna Wolves as a whole. They were people he knew he could rely on- people you should have been able to rely on.
There was something all within the Lupercal household knew, and that was if the Mournival put their minds to something, it was going to get done. It didn't matter if it was war, peace, or the front of the line for a meal- if they wanted it, they would get it. That was what it meant to be a favored son of Horus.
Once Loken returned with the other two, they spent far longer than they ever should have needed to just reorienting themselves. Then, plans were put in motion immediately.
Loken and Torgeddon focused on the servants, using their natural charm to quietly dig deeper into what people knew, what they believed, and where each story originated from.
On the other side, Aximand turned his attention towards their fellow astartes brothers. Though it was less likely one of them was the true culprit, they had been just as bad about ignoring your needs, and that behavior would be fixed without delay.
And finally, Abaddon cemented himself at your side. An ever present figure that ignored anyone that wasn't you. He would not take messages from your aide, he would not accept a refusal to see him from a servant. If it didn't come directly from you, he wouldn't hear it.
They'd failed you and Horus both, but they would rectify that with a precision only they could accomplish. You would be safe, you would be happy, you would be taken care of, and you would know the love of their father- just as you deserved.
-
He'll never rid himself of the image for as long as he lives. The sight of what little hope you held in your eyes dying because of a single, stupid second of hesitation.
Of your hand, once held out towards him in a desperate call for help, falling limply to your side, and how your tears mix with blood you should never have had to shed.
How, in the name of all the stars in the infinite sky, had things gone so wrong?
It had all been going well- far better than before, now that he had the support of his three brothers. They'd investigated every lead, and had found their answer to be bigger than any of them realized.
It wasn't just one or two servants acting against you, it was all of them, with the only loyal one among them being the one Abaddon hadn't expected- the one who arrived with you. The man he'd suspected the most. Apparently, the reason he'd been keeping their father away was because he'd been told to by your parents to avoid "unnecessary high hopes" for affection from the primarch.
It was stupid, his father adored you and would be more than glad to show it if given the chance, but Abaddon had decided to let you deal with him, while he handled the rest.
And the rest was a disaster. A nearly fatal disaster.
As they followed the trail of trechery within their father's house, they found evidence of bribes and collusion with outside nobles who were less than pleased at the fact that you were Horus' chosen bride. They wanted you gone, neglected or abused to the point of leaving so that they could shove one of their daughters in your place.
Abaddon had been right- he should have just gotten rid of them all. There wasn't a single branch of this tree that wasn't rotted, and now you were suffering for it far more than you ever should have.
He paces back and forth in front of the door as he mulls over the events that led to this.
One of the nobles got brave. Too brave, and sent people to rid the Lupercal house of it's lady by force. The servants they had under their employ had let them in, and led them straight to you through those hidden halls while you slept. The only time Abaddon ever allowed you to be alone.
By the time Abaddon had arrived, thanks to the sound of you screaming for him echoing through the halls, you'd attempted to escape your would-be kidnappers, and ended up badly hurt.
And that was when he made his biggest mistake.
He hesitated. It was barely a second, but for that short moment, he actually wondered if you leaving was a good thing. It wasn't like you were happy here, not after his continued failing to protect you. Maybe it was best that you were taken somewhere else. Back home or- or to some planet where you could live a different life.
And he watched as you lost faith in him because of it. Watched as you were carried off, still kicking and screaming and covered in your own blood.
He hopes his father kills him slowly and painfully. He'd deserve nothing less.
Even though he'd shaken some sense into himself, even though he hadn't let them remove you from the house, he still nearly lost you. Still nearly let you disappear, and still let you get terribly hurt. You may be alive, but your blood was on his hands regardless.
-…-
It's quiet, when you wake up. Your room is dimly lit, the sky out your window dark, and your whole body feels terribly heavy.
You turn your head, taking in what little you could see through bleary eyes, and find that you aren't alone. A familair figure shuffles about, careful of your many many things taking up space. He's older, and was one of the few people who wasn't always rude to you.
"Doc..tor..?" Your voice is hoarse, nearly a whisper, but his head turns. You see relief flood his expression and he's quick to move to your side.
"My lady," He says. "Thank the stars."
"What…happened..?"
His expression turns grim, and he sits in a seat next to your bed.
"You were attacked, my lady. Do you remember?" He asks. You nod slowly, the memory of waking to unfamiliar hands grabbing at you making you feel ill. "They attempted to abduct you, to what end, I do not know. Lord Abaddon retreived you, but by the time he got to you, you'd been badly hurt by your own brave attempts at escape. It's my understanding that the only reason any of them survived, is because more information was required from them. I believe Lord Lupercal is personally dealing with it."
You jolt, eyes widening in surprise.
"Horus is here?" You ask, forcing yourself to sit up properly. The doctor nods, reaching to assist you.
"Yes, my lady. He arrived early- barely a few hours after everything settled. You have been asleep for a few days now."
You blink at him, then slowly look down at your hands resting in your lap, unsure of how to feel in this moment.
It had been terrifying. One moment you were at peace, finally feeling like things were going to be okay, the next…everything was in ruins. You were grabbed at, hit, had words you never wished to think of again hissed into your ears, and Abaddon-
Abaddon had looked everything like an avenging angel saving you. You'd feared that he was going to leave you, that he was going to just let you get killed. But you remembered the look on his face when he caught up to your attackers. Remembered how he ripped you away from them and hid you behind himself. You'd fainted- likely due to a head injury, if the ache in your skull was any indecation- but you knew he'd done what he needed to do to ensure your safety.
He was his father's son. It was his duty. Even if, as he put it, you weren't his favorite person. Even if he really didn't want you around. He'd still come for you, and that meant more than you'd ever be able to explain. You needed to tell Horus that he should be proud. The he should be sure to praise his most loyal son.
"I want…to see my husband," You say.
"Of course, my lady. I'll send for him right away." You whisper out a soft thanks, and watch the old man leave.
Your eyes once again scan the room, finding it far messier than it was supposed to be. And far fuller.
You spotted your missing cloak, as well as several dresses you didn't recognize tossed onto your vanity, artwork and jewelry dumped wherever there was room, and even several pieces of furniture you didn't have before. It was like someone had raided a marketplace and just thrown it into your room.
"So they found it all…" You murmur to yourself. But what was the rest of this? Apology gifts? Or things they thought were yours that they just took when they retreived it all? Did it really matter?
A soft sigh escapes you, and you turn your gaze to the window.
Stars dotted the night sky, and a soft breeze made your curtains dance in the moonlight. It was the kind of night that made you want to walk about outside, preferably with your husband at your side. You really should make a better attempt at getting to know him, it was the least he deserved after this mess.
That was, of course, assuming he even wanted to. For all you knew, he was going to ship you back home because of how much trouble you were. It wouldn't shock you, it wasn't exactly as if he cared for you all that much. You had to tell yourself not to let it hurt when it happened.
The door slams open, the sound startling you enough to jump. Your head whips around, panic flooding your system, making it hard to breathe.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. You were alone, there was no one here to help you if someone had come to finish what they started-
Abaddon's loud, shaky voice calling your name shakes you back to reality. He's breathless- you don't think you've ever seen him, or any astartes, breathless. It was as if he'd run across the entire planet to get to you.
He's an absolute mess. His hair is down, looking like it needs a good brush, and he's got the kind of dark circles under his eyes that makes you think he hasn't slept in days. He says your name again, taking quick steps to your bedside and all but collapsing into the chair. It groans under his weight, having not been made for someone like him.
He reaches for you, taking one of your hands in his. It's gentle, but tight. Like he's both scared to hurt you further, and scared that you'll fade away at the same time.
"Abaddon," You breathe, your panicked heart finally slowing into calm.
"My lady."
Tears well in your eyes, but you fight them as best you can. You squeeze his hand.
"You saved me," You sniffle. "Thank you."
"I…" He takes a breath. "I would never let anyone take you. Not even if you, yourself, wanted it. You're a Lupercal, you belong here. With us."
He cracks the smallest of smiles.
"You have to see your life here to the end. To be at my father's side and look after his house and all of his foolish sons. That's your duty, is it not, mother?"
Your world grinds to a stop. Never once in your entire time here had any astartes considered you a mother. You were their lady, their father's wife, but not their mother. And of all of them, Abaddon was the last person you expected to call you such a thing, even after how close you'd gotten.
"Wh-what did you just…call me?" Your voice comes out as barely a whisper. He squeezes your hand.
"Mother," He says the word slowly. "Because that is what you are."
You're completely stunned, unsure if you might actually have fallen asleep while waiting for Horus and were dreaming.
Tears stream down your face before you can stop them, sobs falling from you freely. Abaddon makes a choked noise, pulling his hand away just long enough to scoot himself closer and pull you into a hug. It's stiff and awkward, and when he rubs your back in an attempt to soothe, it's far too firm, but it's perfect nonetheless.
You would have accepted simply being called his lady or, hell, even just your name. But mother? That was something you thought he would die before he uttered such a title at you. Even though in your mind, he'd always been your son due to your marriage to his father, you never never thought he would turn and actually accept being one.
He holds you until the tears stop coming, only pushing you gently back into your previous spot once he was sure you were alright.
"I'm sorry," You say, wiping at your eyes. "I don't- that was a bigger shock than it probably should have been- I- I must be really tired."
"Then you should go back to sleep," He says. "I came because I heard you were looking for my father. He'll be here at your side soon."
"Good, good. I- I really want to see him."
Abaddon hums.
"He wants to see you, too. The doctor has been chasing him from your rooms every day. He's getting restless."
You can't help laughing a little at the absurdity of the statement. You honestly doubted Horus was that concerned about you.
"He probably wants to hear what happened from me," You say. "I shouldn't keep him waiting any longer."
"That's not- no. You're wrong."
You look at Abaddon, head tilting in confusion.
"What do you mean?"
"My father is beside himself with worry over you. He asks about you daily, and as I said, has to be chased off just as often because the doctor worried his presence would startle you since you two aren't as close as you should be. I have never seen him like this before," Abaddon says, and there's something in his voice that has you pausing. He sounds genuine, and a little frustrated.
"I…see…" You can't bring yourself to argue when he sounds like that. You decide to change the subject slightly. "Um. Is all of this from your father?"
He glances around the room, then looks back at you.
"No, it's everything that was taken from you."
You blink at him.
"I don't understand."
He looks at you like you're an idiot, looking much more like himself than he has this entire time.
"Your things. That were stolen. We found them and had them returned to you. I didn't know where to put it all, so I had them just find space. I figured you would put it all away later-"
"Abaddon, I don't know what half of this is."
Now it's his turn to blink at you.
"What?"
"I-" You gesture at everything. "I don't recognize half of what's in this room. I never- these things aren't mine. I mean, some of them, yes, but-"
"No, that's not- did your injuries alter your memory? Everything in this room is something father gave you throughout your time here. There's nothing new or unfamiliar."
You look around at everything again, distressed. You really didn't recognize a lot of the items here. Had your memory really been messed with? Had you really just forgotten what you owned?
No- no, there was no way. There had to be a mistake. These things had to be new, Abaddon had to be confused. Otherwise that meant that someone hadn't just been stealing things you knew about, but things you ever even got to see, and that felt a little too cruel.
Abaddon takes your hand again.
"It's alright, mother," He says. "You can ask about it when my father arrives."
"…okay…"
He nods, releasing you and standing.
"Where are you going?" You ask, anxiety about being alone filling you again. Abaddon huffs out a chuckle.
"You have other guests. I was planning on sending them away so you can rest, but would you rather I let them in?" He asks. You nod slowly. Who could possibly be here waiting to see you? You weren't afraid, not with him here, just confused.
Abaddon walks to the door and takes hold of the handle, pulling it open. Three astartes-sized bodies tumble to the floor cartoonishly.
Horus Aximand is on his feet first, brushing himself off before shoving past Abaddon despite Loken grabbing at his ankles to stop him like a child trying to trip his sibling. The other two scramble up as well, falling over each other to get to you.
You just stare at them, bewildered. It's like looking at completely different people- you honestly didn't recognize any of them while they were like this. Abaddon had told you before the disaster that he'd spoken to them and gotten them more on your side, but you hadn't expected something like this.
"Don't crowd her!" Abaddon yells over them, but he looks amused. Happy, even.
"Mother." Aximand says, startling you even more.
"Y-yes?" You squeak.
He looks at you, actually looks at you, then smiles.
"I'm glad you're alright."
"You had us worried to death, you know!" Loken cuts in, shoving himself so far forward he's practically on the bed with you. It makes you laugh, though you think it must be the shock of the situation.
"I'm sorry?" You say, unsure how else to respond.
"No-" Torgeddon cuts in. "We are the ones who should be sorry. If we'd done anything we were supposed to, you wouldn't be like this. It's our fault, mother, not yours."
Both Loken and Aximand nod. Then all three of them panic when you cry again, while Abaddon laughs at them as if he hadn't also struggled with your reaction.
"Why is it that the first time I get to see you in months, you're both injured and in tears?" Horus' voice startles all five of you. Your sons scramble from the room faster than any of them can say goodbye, leaving you alone with your husband for the first time since you married him.
"Th-they were good tears," You say. "They made me really happy just now."
"That's good to hear." He sits himself on the bed next to you, the mattress dipping with his great size.
He reaches for you, catching a tear from your cheet and wiping it away with a gentleness that makes your heart stutter. He looks down at you softly, his fingertips continuing to trace along your face.
It feels nice, and has you realizing just how horrendously touch starved you really were when you whine at him finally pulling away. The noise makes your husband chuckle, the look in his eyes nothing short of amused and warm.
"Does my wife like it when I touch her?" He teases, making your face burn hot with embarrassment.
"Y-yes," You admit quietly. "Your hands are rough, but it's pleasant."
He hums thoughtfully.
"Then I will have to do it more often."
The implication sits heavily between you, but you don't dislike it. It's a tease and in invitation. A promise of more time, of more attention, of more him.
You look up at him, meeting his gaze.
"I look forward to it, my lord."
"Very good, my lady."
He takes your hand and presses your palm to his lips, sealing his promise with a kiss.
