100% organic, human-made stories. I don't care if you riff off my work as long as it's not being fed to AI or used for profit. Feel free to submit requests. main: @dudeimbaroque
Author does not post on AO3 (please reach out if you see stolen work).
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WARHAMMER:
A PATH FORWARD (ROBOUTE GUILLIMAN X OFC) ; Explicit 🌶
After an impromptu marriage to the Primarch Roboute Guilliman himself, FMC finds herself struggling to escape the shadow of her husband and protect her own legacy.
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four (TBA) / Ongoing series
Current Status 6/7/26: Writing pt 4 est. 7/14
TBA ANGRON X OFC
Current Status 5/16/26: WIP, unknown publication details
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CALL OF DUTY (COD)
The Foxhole (Ghoap x FMC)
Summary: A series of brutal killings leads to Riley Montague meeting The Pack; a group of half rabid shifters who are encroaching closer and closer to civilization. Among them are Simon "Ghost" Riley and John "Soap" MacTavish... two men who choose entangle themselves with Riley completely. /// SHAPESHIFTER AU, Not related to COD at all. MMF, MFM
TW (Whole story, not chapter specific): 18+ MDNI, alcoholism, addiction, dubcon/noncon, body harm, <will update as written> /////// NSFW - M/M, M/F, M/M/F, M/F/M
Part One (TW: Body Harm) /
Current status 6/10/26: Written up to part 4 but may discontinue
Summary: A series of brutal killings leads to Riley Montague meeting The Pack; a group of half rabid shifters who are encroaching closer and closer to civilization. Among them are Simon "Ghost" Riley and John "Soap" MacTavish... two men who choose entangle themselves with Riley completely. /// SHAPESHIFTER AU, Not related to COD at all. MMF, MFM
TW (Whole story, not chapter specific): 18+ MDNI, alcoholism, addiction, dubcon/noncon, body harm, <will update as written> /////// NSFW - M/M, M/F, M/M/F, M/F/M /// PLEASE SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS
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***A gnarled corpse laid bare at the stump of the tree just one mile into the reserve. Found by a volunteer trail cleaner. Stripped bare and left supine for all to see the horror wrought upon the lifeless flesh. Ribcage ripped open, heart and liver gone… chunk of thigh and calf completely missing. An amalgamation of bite marks were scattered throughout the body - a mixture of human, animal, and odd combinations of the two where a person was half shifted and no longer fit a standard homosapien dental mold.
“Coroner is on his way…” a gruff voice spoke.
“Seems like the same M.O. as the other…” another important so-and-so chimed in.
A woman was seated by my side, shaking and texting someone on her phone. The police had held her here for a while now.
Between the legs of investigators, I was subjected to flashes of the mutilated flesh at the base of the tree.
I could’ve gone home.
More time passed, nothing spectacular or new happened. Some tired middle aged folks came ‘round but overall didn’t speak to me.
Until one did, “Go ahead and head home, kid.”
“Let me know if you need anything…” I offered as I walked away to the car.***
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The forest here was old: the type of growth that muffled most sounds and drew odd creatures to it. I didn't want to be there and the woods seemed to know it. My normal route was up to the north: where the trees weren’t fighting for sunlight and crowned out nearly as thick. There was more moss on the trees there, more underbrush for critters to scamper in.
Not here, instead the low light here killed anything growing low and there was nothing but dirt and boulders.
Get out the dead leaves hissed as they rustled across a deer path.
I would if I could, I silently screamed into the never ending expanse of trees.
The trip had been brutal so far, I had no intentions to make it this deep into the Appalachians, with each step, the path got more obscure; washed away not by rain or river, but by rolling fog and diminishing light as the trees grew together in ever-thickening bundles. The poachers had hidden themselves deeper into the ridgeline than expected.
One more hour and I’d have to turn back.
But their scent trail was still fresh. It'd be so easy to keep going for just a little longer. Following along had been a headrush, spurred on by the sensation of an overabundance of heady oxygen released from surrounding foliage.
Ducking through some Spanish moss, I was affronted by the stench of a strong territory marker: coppery, exposed viscera and deep, heady sweat.
Nobody had told me a Pack was here. Surely I wasn’t that far out?
The poachers’ scent didn't cross the invisible boundary and instead headed west, traveling parallel to the pungent borderline about a quarter mile out.
It was time to make a decision: head back now and return just after dark or decide to spend a night in the woods.
The more watery, rotten meat stench I had been hounding was coating my mouth. It made my teeth itch. The woods had slowly turned from foe to friend as they got darker and I stalked every onwards.
You’ve gone too far, a cool, rational voice cut through.
Don’t just half ass a job, a different, cigarette cracked drawl fought back.
Keep going, not a voice but a gut feeling, accompanied by a small shiver of adrenaline.
Then, lastly, a sensation of guilty conscience: the fear of failure easily outweighed any feeling of trepidation over what the night may bring.
My feet moved steadily onwards along the poachers’ trail, even as my own thoughts grew more distant from the task at hand. No matter how fast they moved, they'd have to stop somewhere, sometime. They had hit close enough to the town often enough that their base had to be somewhere within a day or two hike.
I would continue to follow.
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Another hour. The easy whisper of night had me dreaming as if it were daytime… or maybe the dark was so complete, and so singular in its shade, that it was easy to see my own machinations play out in front of me as if it was all a blank screen.
A heavy hit from behind sent me rolling, a broad contact hit that made my ribs creak. The momentum from the attacker had them barreling past, unable to hold onto my arm as I twisted away.
Just like that - whatever delusions I had of being the sole predator in the area were gone. Whatever small pep-talks that had kept me sane as the forest closed in now meant nothing.
A mixed shifter; jaguar-like spotting that seemed to glow between a rare moonbeam; teeth so long that they sheared through the skin of their bottom humanoid lips. Bipedal, for now, but who knows if it would stay that way.
Coyote eyes that had the trademark haze across them characteristic of cannibalistic shifters.
Would their bite pattern match the man found?
It didn’t matter - I was no match for a feral. Whatever crazed and killer instinct drove them far outpowered whatever brains or bronze I would have been able to conjure up.
I turned heel and ran, peeling off the scent trail I had been following.
Heavy footsteps dug into the earth. Mine of theirs? I couldn’t tell. Another strong wave of copper scent, but that could have been my own lungs expanding too quickly - creaking open as gnarled branches and reaching roots flashed in and out of my line of sight.
The smell of musk grew overwhelming as I approached the Pack line. I wanted to gag at the scent, but even worse was the sound of haggard and wet lungs rasping behind me.
That sound was getting closer with each step.
I lurched myself over the boundary line - legs unwilling to propel myself over it by some deep-rooted instinct, but momentum allowed me to tumble over the edge.
The rabid man stopped, standing from his quadruped positioning and snarling loudly. He took a few reluctant steps away from the invisible barrier, his eyes caught in the moonlight as they continued tracking my movements.
It felt like a migraine; it felt like bugs were crawling under my flesh - the wrongness of being inside of the area was worse than simply entering the woods.
The fear of being torn to shreds, eaten alive, was stronger.
So instead I stayed within the territory and slowly started backtracking. Hopefully the poacher would head back to his own group and I'd be able to figure out a way back to town without becoming hunted by the rest of their lot.
At some point, the poacher started trailing further and further behind. Not stopping their pursuit, but keeping a fair distance behind my own rambling pace. It was a sick perversion of roles, in my case.
My attention stayed completely focused on the noises around me - the man stalking through the night about an eighth of a mile out… any Pack on patrol that I'd have to flee…
A metal clanging sound and crunch rang through my ears before I registered the pain.
Then, from somewhere deep in my chest, an escape of air morphed into an ungodly scream - so sudden and so loud that I didn’t realize it was my own throat straining to make the noise.
A trap, digging straight through my leg, fully lodged into the bone.
One glance at my lower leg showed corroded metal disappearing into my calf. Then, as the image settled, came a high pitched ringing sound in my ears, a wave of nausea, and then the concerns for my stalker completely taken out of the equation entirely as I failed to continue perceiving the situation at hand.
It was an unknown amount of time later when I woke again, but it likely couldn't have been long. My face was in the dirt - I had fallen and my leg was stuck at an awkward angle.
I felt consciousness return and leave me again and again… a never ending cycle of renewed hellish awareness spaced out by random blinks in time.
When I woke, for the last time, I was able to register a new sour smell coming from the earth: puke, my nose partially shoved in it.
It registered, somewhere, as disgusting, but I didn’t care.
I couldn’t move. I couldn't bring myself to even shift enough to consider opening the trap. The agony was too much, it was paralyzing. Setting myself ablaze would have felt less severe than this - at least then my nerve endings would have supposedly burnt off.
How do animals chew off their own limbs? How much more fear and pain would it take?
The longer I stayed conscious, the less I could repress the horror of it all. Dissociation, it seemed, wasn’t an option either.
Snot started dripping down my lips, mixing with acidic bile that clung to my chin. It felt like a second trap was around my lungs, making air impossible to suck in.
I kept waiting for the pain to make me lose consciousness another time. Kept waiting for my courage and adrenaline to show up and give me the fortitude I needed to release myself.
Two minutes. It would take two minutes to unlock it.
Sit up, you stupid fucking girl!
It didn’t matter how loud the thoughts were, my fingers didn’t so much as twitch as I stared at my limp hand in front of me.
All rationale was being overridden by pain and the more pertinent reality: the metal that went through the bone and fascia would also have to pull back out.
I couldn't force myself to do it.
A chill was seeping in. Stuck on the ground, the forest felt like it was treating me as it would any corpse: draining it of heat, nutrients… eroding it into nothing more than worm food.
My ribcage ached from being twisted into the ground; rotating my torso meant moving my hips and legs.
I didn't think a Pack member's arrival would be a mercy, but when I finally heard the inevitable approach I was almost giddy in my joy.
This will be a quicker death.
Packs didn’t live near civilization for a reason; too feral and bloodthirsty to not turn into foxes in a suburban henhouse. Government allowed those few to exist on Pack territory deep in the woods. There, whatever poor creatures sapient or otherwise that wandered within their borders were considered fair game.
And what was I? If not literal game caught in a trap?
It was a literal dog eat dog world.
“Aye an’ what would this be?” A heavy brogue spoke softly from the darkness. It curled around my ears and made me wish the ground would swallow me whole.
I couldn’t even turn my head to look. Even the crawling shudder down my spine shook my leg too much.
The footsteps walked over, around towards my head, before crouching down. I saw a flash of heavy duty and worn down boots - steel tips exposed in spots - before a hand, more gently than I expected, rotated my head to look up at the man speaking.
I licked my lips; still acid, snot,... blood. My lips had cracked at some point.
“I-” my voice was so raspy, I sounded so weak… “I didn't want to cross. I'm sorry.” I could barely whisper it.
Bright, too bright for the blackness outside, blue eyes glanced over my face before looking at the trap and setting my head back down on the ground softly. A deep, shuddering breath, in harmony with my own, before the slight clicking of knees standing up again.
The man took some steps out of my view. There was the distinct sound of detritus being brushed out of the way, then a chain clinking. The vibrations make me give a sharp sob into the dirt.
“Shh... Jus’ give me a moment.” The voice spoke calmly. Neutral, no specific warmth behind it that would actually convey comfort.
Was this what the beast said to all its prey?
More vibrations, but I stayed silent in a hysterical effort to die with some shred of dignity and humanity left in me. I wanted to yowl, to screech, to let my vocal cords convey all the horror I felt where words of mankind could not.
Then - a rattling sound and a grunt from the man. The chain shook more before finally a second solid “clink” sound.
I didn't even hear the second pair of footprints approach. I wouldn’t have even noticed another member of the Pack if the Scottish man didn't start speaking through the dark.
“They've gotten bold. Placin’ fucking traps right on our claim.”
Different boots stepped near me. One toe nudged my face. I didn't have the energy to move my head out of the way as it smudged more dirt into the mix of bodily fluids already accumulating there.
“Bonnie little catch, yea?” The man continued talking.
The boot moved away and the second figure responded. “Think she's bait?” A deeper, sharper accent spoke.
A scoffed, “Nah, lass said she was chased in.”
I was so fucking tired.
Without warning, I moved up into the air; the trap still attached to me, jostling more severely than ever.
I passed out. This time for a significantly (blessedly) longer amount of time.
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When I woke, well, I didn't necessarily expect to wake up at all. So it was a bit of a shock.
A chain was still within view, attached to my leg.
But no.
My right leg was the one hurt.
This was on my left.
The right had no metal contraption lodged in it. That alone was an odd partial relief despite the circumstances.
Apathy allowed me to think appropriately. A detached sense of survival that I had prayed would help me last night finally arrived:
I was in a small bed with various blankets tossed over me in a patchwork pattern - no singular one big enough to cover me completely.
It was bright. I was directly underneath a window in a small attic room, nailed shut. Light was blaring down into my face. The walls were a faded light pink. An intricate plastic dollhouse was shoved in the corner aside a worn chair. My backpack was slung over the bedpost at the foot of the bed - opened unabashedly.
The ache in my back and ribs were starting to gnaw at me, overwhelming the instinct to keep my foot still.
I had to sit up.
A chain clinked and I felt a moment of putrid fear come back as if I were still in the forest before it was tamped down into something subdued again.
In the third person, I watched as the muscles in my arms twitched with a dramatic flair as I pushed up. Black spots danced around the room as my thighs flexed. It took a few minutes of pushing back dry heaves, but eventually I did it.
The global pain didn’t lessen as I had hoped.
Once I partially settled in my upright position, there was a light knock on the door.
A respectful pause *(to what? Gather myself? Unlikely.) before the door swung open.
The blue eyed Scotsman practically bounded in, carrying a small tray. A cheerful demeanor that felt like a personal affront to my own downward spiral.
“Alright lass, ‘nough sleeping - time to eat.” He set the tray on the bedside table. It clattered, too loudly, next to me. Not concerned with the precarious placement, the Scotsman lifted the comfy-looking chair out of the corner of the room and placed it beside the bed.
I couldn’t tell if the pain in my stomach was from hunger or the previous days’ events, but then the smell of the soup hit my nose and my stomach growled.
“Thank you.” My voice was still hoarse. It hurt to turn and grab the soup bowl, it shook as I slowly balanced it between my thighs. A chain rattled. Bright blue eyes watched with an overeager expression. He looked almost ecstatic to be there.
Outside the window, somewhere, a generator hummed quietly.The spoon clinked in the bowl as my hands struggled to complete the basic motions.
My hands were freezing. Even with the hot soup on my lap, the nailbeds were tinged purple.
The Scotsman continued watching every move; tracking back and forth, back and forth as I brought the spoon to my lips and dipped it back into the bowl. They were the only part of the brunette’s body that was moving as he perched mere feet away.
The soup burned on the way down. My temples were sweating.
Each repetition took more effort, I was starting to shake so much that nothing was staying on the spoon as it left the bowl. Eventually, I let the utensil rest in the bowl and my hands fell to my sides uselessly.
I looked at the couched form beside me.
He was still staring at the bowl. Distant. Waiting for the next movement.
His eyes eventually found mine again.
Mirror-like, clear, burning with an intensity that I didn’t understand.
A brilliant grin came from the large man. “Carrot ‘n ginger. My maw's own recipe.” Sincere. He was good at sounding sincere.
I nodded. “‘S good. Thank you.”
The man sat back, “My name’s Johnny, or Soap, by the way.”
I swallowed. “Riley. Nice to meet you.”
He gave a sudden laugh, even though it wasn't funny. “Ah two Riley's here then.”
Must be another Pack member.
He leaned forwards again and rested his elbows on his knees. “So I need to interrogate ya a bit… trespassin’ n’ all that.”
Even while sat on a chair and hunched forwards he was hulking: A large fuckin’ predator.
Dark hair covered his thick forearms. My eyes followed the length of his muscular form to his face, which had dark stubble that complimented a sharp jawline, and a somewhat smug expression spread across symmetrical lips.
A slightly wavy and grown out mohawk was held up by gel, creating lines throughout the style. Some longer strands fell over his temple. Underneath was the beginning of a violent scar half hidden away.
I forced my eyes back to my lap, “I understand.”
This was my judge, jury, and executioner before me, most likely.
A sharp knock on the door. I flinched enough to spill some soup and immediately felt the additional embarrassing warmth of a blush across my cheeks, despite myself.
Johnny glanced over his shoulder, “Come in.”
An actual harbinger of death arrived: crossed arms littered with scars; slight layer of fat bellied by brutal muscle adding even more gravity to his presence; thighs that were the thickness of my waist, a height that cast a shadow across the full room though there was no light source behind him.
And the stench… straight in from the woods with no shower. It didn’t smell like death and decay but the act of dying itself: sharp metallic Pack-smell, a sanguine savory layer that made the back of my tongue curl… leather of a boot, packed earth being pressed against my cheek.
All the scents I hadn’t noticed while bleeding out. Once a vague memory masked mainly by the thought of pain, brought to life in more detail than ever.
Johnny's eyes blazed an even more dazzling blue in the sunlit room, the only source of light it seemed, “Right so Ghost here will be listening in.”
I kept being pulled back to the terrific hovering behind him: his eyes were dark brown shifting towards red… almost the color of old blood being washed away; rheumy with the tell-tale sign of man-eating and madness.
They were fixated on Johnny, not me, thankfully.
But when he did glance up…
One look into them and a piece of my soul knew that more people had met this creature and died than had lived.
And for all of the all consuming “Ghost”, there was the easy accent of Johnny cutting through it all:
“Why were ya on Pack territory, bonnie?” He was leaning in. My savior. The one sitting between me and the cannibal.
Blood roared through my ears. I almost didn’t hear him.
“I was tracking the poachers from my town -Deerstop- just east of here… one of them snuck up on me and I knew I wasn't about to survive the fight.” I glanced at the blond beast at the door, “So I took my chances and jumped across the line.”
I forced a timid smile, “Thought I'd plead my case when your Pack inevitably found me.”
An equal parts dashing and wicked smile, “An’ this is you… pleading?”
The soup felt like it was rotting in my stomach. I forced myself to shrug and stay steady. If it was perceived as such, I couldn’t tell: “Don’t have much energy to pull off the theatrics right now.”
A small chuckle, maybe in my favor, before Johnny's eyebrows furrowed, “Ya’ know these poachers?”
I shrugged, “Vaguely. All I was paid to do is find their main camp and report back… ‘fraid I'm not much help if you need names and pack numbers.”
“And tracking is your profession…?”
I shifted and shook my head, my back was starting to hurt again. The soup sloshed precariously close to the edge of the bowl. “I’m mainly wildlife reserve maintenance… sometimes various humanoid tracking for search and rescue but I've never been out this far this direction.”
His brows scrunched further. He was so pretty… I was thankful for his face distracting me from the other man in the room. “An’ ya had orders to make it this far out?”
A sudden wave of weariness hit me. My foot throbbed. “I didn't want to go back with no information. I probably could've made it a night out in the woods just fine.”
The man leaning against the wall snorted.
Ok maybe that was a bold assumption.
With each passing blink, it got harder to open my eyes again. “Didn’t know there was a Pack here…” I mumbled.
“Aye, lass… trynae keep it that way…” Johnny muttered ominously.
Taking note of my fatigue, Johnny sat back. “We can talk more about it later.” He nodded towards the soup, “Finish the bowl an’’ I'll leave ya be to rest.”
It was an order; I could feel the weight behind it as my hands moved to drink the soup without question.
The hulking blond man left silently. If it weren’t for the door closing behind him, I likely wouldn’t have heard him move.
I drank the rest of the soup directly out of the bowl and placed it back on the tray. There was still some bread and a mug of unknown liquid left alongside some generic NSAID brand.
Johnny took the bowl but left everything else on the bedside. “We'll have to change the bandages within the next day, but I figured you'd want to bathe first.”
I did, in fact, feel grimy.
“But for now, sleep.” He grabbed the corner of a blanket that was making it hard for me to move and re-tucked it when I was flat.
“Thank you Johnny.” I mumbled before almost immediately slipping unconscious again.
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***It was quiet in the kitchen, Simon was leaning against a counter sipping from a mug, staring out into the treeline - ever alert.
The rest of the Pack was still out on personal business - aware of the situation at hand, but allowing Johnny and Simon to handle it independently.
Price would understand. But Simon?
Even then, Johnny felt overwhelmed. Uncertain of how to broach the subject… even after all their years together, Simon’s mind had depths he didn’t understand.
But he knew. Every piece of him was on fire with the new Pack member.
He approached Simon, choosing not to say anything, to bide his time. “I love you, Si.” He hugged the larger blond man.
As always, Simon tightened his arms around him and kissed the top of his head tenderly.
Blood rushed through him, so hot he shivered.***
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Wanted to learn how to write horror-ish, so I'm using this little brain bug as an experiment.
TW: Physical abuse, There isn't even smut in this :(
Flew too close to the sun. Created plot for my smut.
Somewhat beta read by an author who hates this chapter in general.
Due to working on other projects and the general highs and lows that come with writing, I will be aiming for an update roughly every 2 weeks.
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The shower wasn't nearly as cleansing as I had hoped. I was thankful to be clean, but with that came the sensation of resentment about what just occurred.
Guilliman obviously didn't want to discuss what happened, and I was personally too weak willed to be around him without being manipulated.
My stomach rumbled.
I needed to get my shit together.
Tarrek was waiting outside when I begrudgingly left the privacy of the showers.
“Are you hungry, my Lady?”
I nodded, “Yeah but maybe we can grab food and eat it down on the lowest level.”
We started walking, “Why the lowest level, Miss?”
“I need to start working on a physical prototype for some of the scanning equipment I'm reworking. I think I might have luck finding some odds and ends there.”
We continued walking in silence before another thought struck me, “Is there anything specific you would like to do today, Tarrek?”
The astartes remained silent for a moment, “No, I don't believe so.”
“Well how about you show me your favorite part of the ship and we go there today after we find pieces for the prototype?” I offered.
I had a new plan forming in my mind. The barest hints of a whisper working its way into an idea.
“You have already been there, my Lady.” He responded.
“And where might that have been? Surely not the cafeteria.” We were approaching a slightly less busy mess hall at this very moment.
“No, my Lady: the sparring rings.”
I sought out a nutrient bar, “We should start sparring more then.”
The soldier was screening the area for any threats, as always, “It would be a good idea, my Lady.”
I ripped open the bar and dug in, “I don't know how to get to the bottom level from here, you'll have to lead the way.”
He nodded and stepped ahead of me. “How is your work going?”
I sighed, “Slow. I'm not sure how to calibrate the old sensors without outright losing some of the other key functions… the computers in them are getting overloaded quickly.”
He turned into a maintenance corridor and pointed to a set of double doors. “Elevator is this way, Miss.” We stepped in. “What are we searching for?”
I shrugged, “Ideally some wire, an old computer, some ground spikes, and a battery or two.” I should've brought my notes with me. “Oh, and also a box of dirt.”
The doors slid open to the factory floor. It was busier than my initial trip there. I was suddenly happy to have Tarrek as an extra set of eyes since it was loud and overwhelming immediately.
“Any ideas where to start?” I called over the machinery whirling around us.
Tarrek scanned the scene before gesturing towards a ramp diagonal to us. “A floor manager would have some insight.”
We made our way across the area slowly. Nobody gave us particular mind, but cleared the way due to Tarrek's presence. There were only two pairs of Ultramarines patrolling the area.
Finally we made it the ramp built to oversee the floor. A tall, gaunt human man stood on a section of scaffolding overhead. The ladder up wasn't meant to hold an astartes, obviously.
I turned to Tarrek, “I'll be right back.”
“Be careful, my Lady.”
I climbed up the ladder, trying to avoid my discomfort of heights.
“Excuse me, sir.” I startled the man looking down at the screen in front of him.
He immediately scowled at me. “What do you want?”
Determined to be unmoved by his irate tone, “Yes, I was looking for spare wire and computer parts for my research-”
“Bah,” he almost spat on me, “Ain't no damned spare bits for you to sell on the next planet here on my floor, girl.”
I blinked. “Sir, as I just stated they are for research-”
He took a menacing step forwards and shoved me back, I stumbled concerningly close to the ladder. “Get gone, you damn scrap slut.”
I nodded, “Uh, have a nice day.” I slowly climbed back down the scaffolding to Tarrek.
He held out an arm as I jumped down the last bit. “Well?”
I shook my head. “Dude was an actual bastard and damn near pushed me off the ledge for asking… we'll have to look elsewhere.”
“...my Lady?” Tarrek shifted.
“Do you think the next floor over would have anything?”
Tarrek didn't respond and instead started climbing the scaffolding.
It groaned under his weight.
I could only watch in morbid curiosity as he made it to the top in three graceful leaps from rung to rung.
Not a moment later, the man who was rude to me was dangling over the edge of his perch - a large Ultramarine hand keeping him aloft by his arm.
I panicked, “Tarrek, that doesn’t seem necessary!” I called out. People were gawking at the scene.
Tarrek looked down over the edge before jumping down and landing in front of me, floor master still in his clutches.
If the man was pale before, he looked absolutely pallid now. “Uh, my Lady, let me apologize profusely for my misspeaking…”
“What the actual fuck Tarrek?”
“My Lady, rest assured that he will be executed for his transgressions.” Tarrek was still holding the squirming man by his arm.
I shook my head so fast I made my self dizzy, “No, no… I'll settle for knowing where old supplies are kept.”
“Two floors over, my Lady… in the wing with all our smaller aircraft.” The man was crying at this point.
I nodded. “OK thank you… Tarrek leave the man to his work.”
Tarrek promptly dropped the man, who landed on the floor and immediately started bowing in supplication.
“Oh that's not really necessary-” I was immensely uncomfortable and people were looking.
Tarrek put a boot to the side of the man. In his armor, it was almost the size of his torso. “Ma'am I believe that this is far kinder than what he deserves.”
The man started sobbing and babbling nonsense even faster.
“Let's just go.” This was really uncomfortable. “The aircraft hangar, you said?” An unexpected boom to our current expedition.
He sniveling man nodded again, “Yes, yes my Lady.”
“Alright Tarrek lets go.” I turned in a random direction and started walking to the first set of doors I could find.
Once Tarrek led me to the far side of the ship, I could breathe a little more readily.
We paused to take some time in the aircraft hangar. Seeing massive jets come and go through the airlock was fascinating. Even aboard battle cruisers while in the military I had never seen anything quite as intricate.
Eventually, though, after I had stood in awe of the operation for long enough, we made our way across the internal airport and to the corner of the ship dedicated to junk.
It was glorious, the amount of stuff all shoved in a dark corner of our cruiser. It must have been collecting for decades. It was a treasure trove that I'd absolutely be able to utilize to my advantage.
We had been sitting through piles for a while and I was gently trying to correct Tarrek.
“I just don't think it's appropriate to threaten someone's life when they just happened to be slightly rude.” I explained for the hundredth time, it felt.
“My Lady, he should at least have his hands cut off for touching you, to serve as an example.”
I sighed, “Tarrek, I am not worth harming another soul over.”
Tarrek stilled from shifting through mountains of junk. An adeptus mechanicus scurried around somewhere on a large pile of old parts behind him. It was somewhat humorous to watch.
The Ultramarine started digging through old broken computers again. “I should have killed him immediately after gaining the Intel we needed.”
“No,” I threw a random screw at him. “We could have asked somewhere else. We were bound to find this place eventually.”
“My Lady, what if you fell when he pushed you?”
I shrugged. “You would have caught me.”
He didn't respond.
I narrowed my eyes, “You would have caught me, right?”
He nodded, “Always, my Lady.”
“Well,” I shrugged, “then I don't see why it was such a big fuss.”
“You are a Queen. In no place in this galaxy or the next would the floor master's actions gone unpunished.”
I set a promising piece of hardware to the side. “Tarrek, I am a political pawn of unknown value. There are tens of millions of people like me in this universe.”
“You are the sole wife of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman.”
I fished out another shiny bit of metal from the pile in front of me, “Who is to say I'll even be the sole wife of Roboute for long anyways? I'm sure he'd take a second or third if it meant he had the political alliances he wanted.”
Tarrek turned fully towards me. “You believe that of Primarch Guilliman?”
I sighed and tossed the metal bit aside, “I think he has multiple things in his life he cares about far more than me.”
Tarrek handed me a piece of thick metal that could be used as paneling on the prototype. I reached for it, he held it just out of grasp.
“You mentioned nobody caring for you yesterday. I cannot see that being true.”
I shrugged but felt my heart squeeze a little at the kind words, “I was feeling dramatic.” I learned further towards him to grab the piece.
He slowly placed it in my hand. “I care for you, my Lady.”
Its his job.
I pushed the ugly thought down and allowed myself to feel a moment of happiness in his statement.
I placed the piece in our growing “keep” pile.
“I care for you too, Tarrek. Thank you for being by my side. Even when it's boring.”
He looked around the room, “Admittedly I did not think I'd be an astartes who spends their time sorting through trash.”
<><><>
As a reward for his patience, I stopped myself from going overboard on the pieces we had collected and decided to delay putting a rough model together. Instead I opted to go to the sparring gym with Tarrek, as I had promised.
Tarrek made a quick stop at his room to change into just his bodysuit and we were on our way.
“So… whatcha thinking for sparring today?” I asked casually as we made our way to the ring.
Outside of his suit, he walked silently. “Let's work on your punching form.”
I nodded, “That isn't very fun for you.”
He gave a, dare I say, boyish grin in response. “To be honest with you, Miss, it's more fun than standing and waiting for you to work on research.”
“Fair enough.” I started to square off against Tarrek.
He appraised it quickly, “Shift your weight onto your right a little.”
I followed his command. “I have a random question.” I said, as we re-set spots and went over yet another version of a dodge.
“What is it?” He got back into his own position.
“Do you remember your family?” I asked before immediately rolling to the side to dodge a particularly fast lunge. My shoulder hurt where I had been trying to consistently fall properly.
He shook his head, “Not really. I know I had a sister but I left before any real memories of her.”
I frowned. “I'm sorry to hear that Tarrek.”
“I have plenty of brothers now.”He swiped at me - faster than before. I was getting better at timing things. “I have a question for you, if you'd permit me asking it.”
“Go ahead.” I dodged another startlingly fast swing.
“What was your family like?” He asked.
I held up a hand as he readied himself for another attack. I was getting winded. “I am the youngest of five. My parents were married for political gain, just like each of their parents were before.” I enjoyed the cool air for a moment. “It was peaceful, I suppose. I was far more fortunate than many on my planet… I always had food and shelter and I had the best education possible.”
“What were your siblings like?”
I laughed, “I was actually closest to my oldest sister; her and her husband are primed to take over my home. My brothers and I didn't get along, and my other sister was married off when I was young so I never really knew her.”
I swallowed, “My oldest sister… she's so smart. She reminds me in a lot of ways of my mom, but better. My sister is lucky too. She and her husband love each other a lot. When we were kids the two of them helped raise me and taught me how to draw and do math.”
“My parents weren't around all that much, truthfully. I'm the youngest of five so it's not like I had any great line of inheritance. They let me be for the most part.” I popped my neck and got back on the mat. “Why do you ask?”
He glanced towards the scar on my head, “I'm just surprised you were permitted to be harmed.”
I laughed, “I was a rebellious child. I don't think any of my family could have stopped me from getting a few scars even if they dedicated half their armies to keeping me out of harm.”
He smiled and lunged, I ducked out of the way quickly, “Well thank you for making my job relatively easy then, my Lady.”
When he came at me again, I let myself be tackled to the floor and laughed, “Don't thank me yet.”
He gave me a sideways glance as we got up, “Why wouldn't I?”
I felt lighter than I had in years, gazing across an empty gym, sweaty and semi breathless.
I didn’t respond, and instead started on my own attacks.
<><><>
I hadn't gone back to Guilliman’s room in a few days. This time it wasn't nearly as purposeful: I was simply busy getting the prototype working and hadn't returned. Tarrek sent someone to fetch my clothes and they always returned with fresh ones without difficulty. I had been using the showers near his room after regular sparring practice since they were more convenient than heading all the way back to Guilliman's wing.
I had been going non-stop, up until this moment.
The dirt I had found was too soft to drive the spikes of the prototype into. I sighed and sat down in my little work area.
As it would turn out, I didn't need to make a dirt box when the ship had multiple decorative gardens strewn about the area.
“Tarrek,” I looked up as a pair of businessmen walked by and purposefully avoided eye contact, “am I an embarrassment?”
The ever-patient astartes had made no comment when I took my box of prototype junk and started digging through the fauna decorating the ship earlier that day.
I had been at it for roughly three hours and had only been approached once by a brave soul who pointed out that I was about to step on a quasi-rare plant specimen.
The astartes shifted for a moment, “This behavior isn’t what I'd expect from a Queen, to be perfectly sincere, my Lady.”
I sighed and threw my spade in the ground. “This dirt is garbage. I can't get enough pressure with the sensors to get it to begin the program for basic readings.”
In his defense, Tarrek was attempting to be helpful while I tinkered with the small metal wedge in front of me.
“What does it need to begin reading?”
I dug some dirt up with my hand. The planter box was only about mid-calf height on me. It was loosely packed throughout.
“It's meant to read rock, so almost anything but this.” I looked around dejectedly before a small sprinkler caught my eye. “It may work in mud though!”
I started digging. “Tarrek, do you think you could fetch me a bucket of water from the cafe?”
He took a moment too long to reply again. “Yes, my Lady.”
I kept creating a hole where I could wedge the device into while Tarrek came back. Gleefully, I filled the area with water and dirt and let everything settle before attempting to start the prototype again.
It turned on!
Then it turned off again!
“Fuck.” I slammed my hand in the dirt.
At that moment, two Ultramarines came into the area and towards me.
I glanced at Tarrek nervously. He turned to face them and dipped his head.
“Brothers.”
They nodded in response. I stood up and started dusting the dirt off my pants.
“My Lady, Lord Guilliman is requesting your presence in one hour at his side-chamber meeting room.”
I nodded slowly, “Thank you, I will be there.”
They, too, stared for a moment too long before nodding politely in unison and walking away.
I started throwing everything into the bin I had insisted on carrying around. “Well at least I have enough time to clean up.”
“Are you sure you don't need to take a trip to the library first, my Lady?”
I gave him a sharp glance then looked away for a moment. Perhaps I could ditch Guilliman for the library again?
No. I had already snuck away from Guilliman while sleeping. I had planned on returning to our dinners, albeit begrudgingly. I may as well face Guilliman somewhere other than the bedroom. Perhaps we'd be on more even ground.
“It's tempting.” I exhaled, “But let's just drop this off and then I need to change.”
<><><>
Guilliman was even more imposing in his council room, where he was expected to be a commanding figure. My hopes of being brave and talking to him directly were quickly crushed by his aura alone.
“Little wife. I wasn't sure if you were coming.” He gave a slight smile.
I was scanning the room: it was plain, white walls with multiple planetary maps framed on the walls.
He cleared his throat and I returned my attention to him. “I am taking a meeting with your father soon. I believed it was appropriate to have you beside me for it.”
“For what reason?” It's not like I had any sway in the decisions made by Guilliman or my father.
His eyebrows furrowed for a moment. “Wouldn't you like to speak to your father?”
“I could have contacted my father at any time up until now. Why would I choose to speak with him during a meeting?”
The comm rang before Guilliman could answer. He gestured me to his side and I stepped next to him like a good wife as he answered the video.
“Ah Lord Guilliman, and my lovely daughter. It is wonderful seeing the both of you!” My father looked ecstatic. Never once had he ever spoken to me with such joy.
I dipped my head, “Father.”
Roboute smiled, sharp and dangerous as always. “It is good to hear from you again. I believe you wished to discuss the last bit of details about the trade routes you are supplying, correct?”
My father cleared his throat. “Ah, yes, all is going extremely well and I'm happy to say-”
I zoned out. Off-planet infrastructure wasn't my forte.
I only paid attention again when my father said, “And as for the troops promised, I am proud to say that we are able to double the number promised-”
“Double?” I interjected. “Where could you possibly have found double the troops?”
Father flashed a smile, “Your niece has started a very successful recruitment campaign in the local schools-”
I saw red. “Absolutely not. You are not draining the establishments I fought tooth and fucking nail-”
Lord Guilliman placed a massive hand on my shoulder, holding me up as much as the weight of it pushed me down. “While we both deeply appreciate your enthusiasm, I believe what my wife and I are trying to say is that, at this time, we are unable to provide supplies for more troops than expected. It is likely most appropriate for them to continue their schooling while on reserve.”
Distantly, I was ecstatic that my husband was supporting me. More acutely, I was fucking livid with my father.
“No, I think what I meant was-”
Guilliman squeezed tighter, my shoulder blade ground into my ribs and I decided to stop talking.
Ever the diplomat, the Primach continued to smile, “It is good to hear that our marriage brought you the resources to flourish. The trade routes we discussed will have officiants placed on your planet within the next season for you.”
My father immediately forgot about me and became entranced by my husband again, smiled dopily and nodded. “Of course, of course my Lord.”
“Well I am happy that you are all well, thank you for taking the time to finalize plans today.” Guilliman stated.
“Yes, well I hope you are both well and that my daughter is making you a happy man.” The words were stated casually, but I could feel them aimed at me.
Roboute laughed, like he and my father were old friends, and nodded. “Yes, yes, we are well.”
“Are you, daughter? Your mother wishes to know that you are content.” Father outright addressed me for the first time tonight.
The Primarch's hand felt noticeably heavier as he smiled down at me, eyes blazing.
I nodded and forced a diplomatic smile of my own. “Please let mother know that I am well.”
He nodded briefly before turning to Guilliman. “Well I will leave you two to your business. Reports will be sent to you shortly.”
The call ended.
Guilliman's hand stayed on my shoulder as he guided me to a large chair. “Take a seat.”
He sat diagonally from me on his own massive chair. I realized then that some of the spots at his table were meant for humans. The majority were meant for his sons.
“Would you like anything to drink?” He asked. A computer tablet was down in his hands. He was clicking through it slowly.
I shook my head, resuming scanning the room for all its smaller details. My home planet map was to my right. I wonder if the maps chosen were relevant somehow?
He typed in some information on the screen in front of him before shutting it off and tapping his fingers slowly on the table. An oddly human habit. “For all of my planning, I did not expect you to be an impulsive soul.”
I remained silent.
His hand stopped moving. “Word got back to me that you have been able to begin trials with your research today.” A polite way to say that I was seen playing in the mud. “Tell me, how has that been? I haven't had an update since our last dinner.”
A small knock at the door, a tray of food was placed between us. In front of me, a cup of the hot drink I had grown fond of since the barista gave it to me the day of “the incident”. I frowned at the implication of him knowing my order.
I reluctantly took a sip, ignoring the food even though it was now our regularly scheduled meal time.
“There isn't much more to update you on since our last dinner. I just found some parts to make a prototype… er, replica… of the older models and now I'm seeing if I can get the updated programing to work under current conditions.”
“And finding equipment went well?” A pointed question, his tone slightly more terse.
Ah, he knew. I took another sip of my drink, “We were able to sort out parts without any real difficulty.”
His gaze lingered, I could feel it as if he were still holding my shoulder. “What would be your next steps?”
I hadn't considered it yet. “Well ideally we find some conditions that we can test the piece in. I don't know if we can create an environment here on the ship, so I suppose I'd be taking a trip out to a nearby asteroid for a day or two…”
Roboute reached forward and grabbed a piece of food, “Is that so?”
I hugged my knees to my chest, “It's an option. I could also give up on utilizing the old foundational programming and just start it all from scratch.”
“Hmm,” he scratched his clean shaven face, “how long would that take?”
I rested my forehead on my knees, “Months at least.”
“You make it sound like you're running out of time, my love.” I knew he was looking at me again.
I suppose there was no rush. “Yeah, but there's only so many projects I'll be able to get to in my lifetime, I just wish this one was going a little smoother so I could move onto different ideas.”
My lifetime. A blink of the eye compared to his.
He didn't seem to think of that fact. Or maybe he wasn't concerned.
“Unfortunately your work may be slowed further. I want you to begin attending basic meetings. Now that you know the ship and have had time to explore, it is time you start learning how to run it.”
I must have looked dismayed because he laughed lightly, “Just enough to know the inner workings more in depth. A few hours every other sleep cycle. You won't be a quarter master unless you wish to be.”
I let out a deep breath. “That seems reasonable.”
He dropped his voice slightly, “Then in the evenings you can return to our chambers.”
I rubbed my eyes hard. It had been a long day. “I still hate that fucking bed.”
“I had it replaced. The room is rearranged completely.” I remained silent and downed the dregs of my cup, “You would know if you weren't avoiding me once again.” He glanced at me pointedly.
I frowned, “I haven't been avoiding you. I have been busy.”
He grabbed a clean mug set aside on the table and poured a different hot drink into it before nudging it towards me. “I had been hoping to begin waking up next to you.”
“You never sleep anyways.”
He poured a cup for himself as well. Primarch-portioned mugs, I noted.
His brows furrowed, “You know that is untrue since you snuck away from me while I was sleeping just a few nights back.”
I scoffed. “I hardly snuck away. I made no effort to be quiet and you didn't budge at all.”
“I wished you by my side when I awoke all the same.” He took a sip of the drink.
I followed suit. “Fine then we can sleep together in the apparently new bed tonight.”
He glanced towards a video screen above us. “Unfortunately I have meetings for the next 16 hours.”
I couldn't help but roll my eyes.
“Now now little wife. Don't come off as too eager to give affection to your husband.” He teased.
The conversation was almost like our previous ones, over dinners.
He gestured towards my mug, “Do you like the tea?”
I took a more careful sip then nodded. “I've never tasted anything like it before.”
“It is from my home planet. I keep a small patch of the leaves on the fourth floor of the ship.”
“I didn't realize there was another floor to the ship.”
He nodded. “In places. It's not all connected. Come, I can show you before my next meeting.”
He stood suddenly. I followed suit and he led me to a set of stairs behind a nondescript door in the hallway just across the meeting room.
The passageway at the top was wooden: something even I had only seen rarely in my life of relative luxury.
Little terrariums were placed tastefully around the room. Sweet smelling blossoms stemmed from most of them.
A neat desk sat in the middle of it all.
“Oh it's just your office?” I was mildly disappointed.
He traced over a vine gently, “This is the plant from the tea you just tried.” He looked somewhat peaceful.
I lingered in the doorway. The room was borderline claustrophobic with the Primarch in it.
A more sinister thought came to my mind: He has to get through you to leave.
“I've been meaning to ask,” my gaze followed where he was slowly admiring some of his plants. “Who was the woman you were with?”
He paused. For the slightest of moments. If I weren't looking for any form of reaction, I wouldn't have caught it.
“A serf woman.”
“That you care for?” I asked kept my eyes glued to his face although he didn't make eye contact.
He moved slowly to his next set of plants, “No.”
I took a moment to reflect, “Then why do it?”
The primarch made his way towards his desk and cleared his throat, shifting through things for an excruciatingly long moment. “Our marriage clause didn't call for monogamy. I thought it appropriate when-”
My ears rang and my vision was hazy. A horrible sound was coming out of my chest. The reaction was immediate.
Oh.
I was laughing.
Hysterically.
It felt like my lungs were crawling up my throat. My stomach close behind. I was laughing to hard my body hurt.
“Husband, I would say go fuck yourself but I have no doubt you'll make full use of someone else to do it for you.” I finally managed between breaths.
Roboute, in all his stoic godlike demeanor, had the nerve to look somewhat upset by the statement. Or at least confused.
I didn't wait for whatever his retort was. Instead I took a step back down the stairs and out of the doorway, letting gravity and my body weight slam his office door with a satisfying ‘crack’.
<><><>
I thankfully didn’t run, or even power walk, out of the wing this time around. Guilliman didn't follow me and I was livid enough that I was secretly hoping to drag out the argument into the public eye. Let his people see what jackass he was to his wife.
Rationality won over quickly. It was unlikely anybody on the ship would be on my side. He was the most beloved son in the galaxy. I was likely only going to be seen as his first, and brattiest, wife.
Besides, just because monogamy was something that was practiced on my own planet and all of my siblings own marriages, it didn't mean that my father would have set the same expectations for mine.
There were going to be millions of other people in his lifetime far superior to me. It was time to make my peace with that.
It didn't make me less upset. But, wishing for a standard marriage with a Primarch was overall impractical. I didn't know Roboute's end goal, but I had unwittingly become a pawn in it.
The clarity hurt. But it was also liberating, to a degree.
You are a player in his game. Your marriage is words on a paper. You are a means to an end.
You are a really fucking good scientist.
“I am a really fucking good scientist.”
Tarrek turned, “My Lady?”
At this point I had been pacing my office for a bit. Talking to myself and shadow boxing Roboute Guilliman.
Emperor, I wished he wasn't the protector of quintillions of lives. If he were just a man I'd find a way to have him spend the rest of his life in the mines.
Well, maybe not that harsh.
But either way. Guilliman couldn't be harmed or else legitimate, warp-driven, chaos would ensue.
I laid down on the office floor. Tarrek was accustomed to the behavior by now. “Is it wrong to seek out my own happiness? Like if it was at nobody's expense?” I asked aloud.
“Astartes aren't meant to understand such concepts.”
I turned my head towards him, “You were right by the way. When you mentioned the infidelity being part of the contract.”
I sighed. “Either way. I want my own room. I'm sick of sneaking in and out of Guilliman's wing… maybe something on the second floor? The living quarters?”
“That is below your station, my Lady. And securing the area would be difficult.”
“Do you have a better idea? I'd settle for a pillow and blankets on the floor at this point. I'd just live out of my backpack for clothes…”
I wish I could read his facial expressions. In armor, it was impossible.
“My Lady, there may be some appropriate chambers nearer to the astartes section of the ship.” I didn’t expect him to offer a solution.
“Wonderful. Let's start getting my room set up there and then we can return to my research.”
“Please plan on sleeping tonight, Miss. You will be starting basic training for ship protocols tomorrow, per Guilliman's orders.” He reminded me.
I sighed. I had forgotten already. The prospect didn't sound as pleasing as it had initially.
<><><>
Thankfully, it was Shan who was in charge of teaching me the inner workings of the ship. It was overwhelming, but overall useful information that I begrudgingly admitted was necessary. There were emergency procedures I had never considered in case of attacks, fire routes, access hallways I hadn't even noticed: an entire underlying ecosystem to the ship that I had willfully ignored.
It took a lot longer than expected and I found myself yearning for some quiet time in my impromptu office, despite genuinely enjoying Shan's company.
By the end of the day my brain hurt from all the information that I insisted on outright memorizing. Instead of jumping straight into my personal project, I found myself sitting at the edge of the small bed in my new room and appreciating some of the silence.
“Tarrek?”
The door to the room opened and the astartes ducked in. “My Lady?”
“Today when I was talking to Roboute, he had known about my adventures in the dirt…” I trailed off. “I don't remember any other Ultramarines around to report my proceedings.”
“My Lady, there are cameras everywhere on this ship and you are well known at this point. It would be safe to assume that myself, Guilliman, and your four silent guards know of your proceedings at all points in time.”
“Silent guard?”
“The two other battle brothers that stand at the end of your hallway and deliver messages from Lord Guilliman. They are your personal guard as well.”
“And the others?”
“They remain in the same sector of the ship as you and maintain a larger perimeter. You likely will never see them unless something goes astray.”
I swallowed, tapping down the feeling of intense paranoia with the new information. “And, you mentioned that I was well known?” That didn't seem accurate.
“All Ultramarines and staff on this ship were expected to know your face and background prior to the wedding, per Guilliman's orders.”
Imagine that. Everyone knew me and I had yet to interact with anyone besides a handful of people regularly.
My palms were sweating. “I don't know what to make of that. With the factory floor manager situation… I assumed that I had some form of anonymity here.”
“No ma'am, Guilliman gave orders that none on this ship approach you unless directly ordered, for your safety and so you could settle in… it seems as though the floor manager did not follow those orders.”
<><><>
It was another three sleep cycles before I got the chance to get back to my office to continue researching. By the end of it all, I had the basic supplies orders and shipments planned along our route memorized inside and out.
When I got there I was immediately surprised by a large stone pillar sitting next to the doorway.
“Tarrek, do you know what this is?”
“Lord Guilliman ordered stone brought onto the ship to trial your sensors.”
I nodded slowly, taking it in.
“This could work to start.” I eyed the piece of rock. “I might be able to put a second prototype in it if we can find the scrap for another one.”
I don't think Tarrek was particularly impressed by the rock because he remained politely stoic.
I continued, “We will need a way to drive the sensing wedge into it.” I glanced at him, “I won't be strong enough to do it alone.”
“I will help, my Lady.”
I smiled. “Let's try it now.”
I grabbed the metal wedge that had been sitting in the office.
“Normally we have a team using large hammers, but maybe you can just wedge it in yourself?”
“And the piece won’t break?”
I frowned. “It shouldn’t. It’s meant to be driven into rock.”
Tarrek took the metal piece from my hand, making it look miniscule, and started tapping it into the pillar placed in the hallway.
A few solid taps and it held.
A firmer pound with his fist. The machine held, the pillar cracked and fell to the floor in pieces with a loud cracking sound.
I sat against the hallway wall in defeat.
I was going to have to scrap the whole project and build a new machine. Exactly the opposite of my first goal.
<><><>
The hangar was busy, per usual as I made my way back from the supply room, bag loaded down with metal trinkets and tools.
A quick chat with the overly pleasant head of air traffic control confirmed that all was running on schedule.
The ship I needed was just across the way, currently unloading munitions. After this landing, they were then headed to a local planetary drop spot before returning to catch up with Guilliman's slow moving fleet.
A quick two week stint, relatively speaking.
I made my way across the hangar quickly, trying to not look conspicuous as I approached the relatively small vessel.
Tarrek was showering and taking some alone time (which traditionally never boded well for him in regards to my own impulsiveness), and the four other guards who were supposed to be around were nowhere to be seen.
They were supposed to stop others from harming me, not me from myself, I quickly had surmised.
The pilot was quietly talking another ship merchant when I approached. They both paused their conversation and turned towards me once I was within a few strides.
I dipped my head, “Gentlemen, I apologize for interrupting but I need a private word with this ship's pilot when you are done.”
The tall merchant spoke, “We were just wrapping up, my Lady.” He spun on his heel and strode away quickly.
“Can I see the wares you're taking back, please?” I asked the visibly confused pilot.
“I will not be-” I gave him a pointed look that he thankfully understood. “Of course, you are welcome to see the basic return cache. Follow me.”
We were led into a cramped cargo space, full of empty containers.
“I'm sorry for putting this on you suddenly, but I find myself in urgent need of transit to Xanartha and you are the only ship headed that way at this time.”
The pilot shook his head, “Sorry ma'am, but the paperwork-”
“I can override all paperwork.” It was a bluff. I had no control over the freight and ship logs at all. I felt my demeanor crumble a bit in desperation but attempted to remain calm. “Do the math to include one more soul on board and we will leave as planned.” I dropped my supplies in the small hold and hopped out of the cargo ship and glanced at the massive hangar clock, “We will still leave in fifteen minutes, have the ship running. I will be back.”
I tried not to move so quickly that I looked suspicious or frantic, but it was hard when I was filled with adrenaline. The hangar supervisor gave me a curious look as I approached before bowing slightly.
“Ship 10245-10-D3 will be carrying some of my research to its next destination. I apologize for the last minute flight log changes. I came to ask if there was any more formal documentation I needed to submit since the poor pilot looked frazzled.” I gave my most charming smile.
The man tapped at his computer a moment, “I will have my men do a scan now. So long as it is not viewed as contraband, I see no problem.”
I nodded. “Thank you for the assistance. It's just two bags of machinery pieces. Now, I apologize I should go to the pilot one more time and make sure he knows who he's delivering things to. I'll be back this afternoon because there's another ship I want to put supplies on…” I rambled on, burning time.
“Of course of course.” He was still looking down at the computer.
I sped back to my little unwitting rescue ship; baseline guardsmen were wrapping up their final search as I approached.
“All looks good, my Lady.” One called out.
I looked her in the eyes and smiled again, “Wonderful. Thank you for going out of your way to help.”
The pair saluted and walked away.
The pilot dropped out of the ship momentarily. “Ship was just cleared for take off, time to go.”
I took a deep breath.
“Alright lets go.”
A quick glance around the hangar showed that nobody was particularly looking at us.
I might get away with this.
I made my way into the ship and latched it. “Don't wait for me to lock in, let's just get going.” I called up front to the pilot.
The ship didn’t taxi as it left the hangar, it simply lifted for a moment in the air before launching forwards at breakneck speed. I barely had time to brace myself against a secure crate before the acceleration launched me into a wall.
I clung to the crate for what felt like an eternity before slowly making my way towards the cockpit when we reached cruising speed.
Tentatively, I took the spare seat next to the pilot. I placed the extra headset on and slowly started screening channels - waiting for the inevitable signal regarding my escape. The pilot gave me a brief glance but remained silent.
It was about a six hour trip. I was hoping that Tarrek wouldn't notice I was gone until about two hours in, then they'd search the ship for an hour or two… I hadn't really planned this far ahead. I hadn't meant to actually escape. I assumed maybe someone would question my actions or get suspicious.
All channels remained quiet the full trip and I found myself only relaxing once we hit the atmosphere to descend at our final destination.
We landed on the edge of a large building in the middle of the local hive city. It constantly had ships coming and going from various platforms. Relatively few people were actually about.
I stood and grabbed my supplies quickly the second the plane settled. “Thank you, I appreciate your help.”
And then I made my way into the odd looking airport in front of me.
Nobody gave me a second glance as I moved towards ground level. My research suggested that this planet had rail systems that could get me to the edge of the hive and towards a farming area within another relatively short stint. Between this planet's relatively close proximity to where we were passing, and its perfect mix of open fields and wide-spanning transit systems, it was the perfect option. Too good of an opportunity to miss.
Making my way onto the train was easy and I found a small corner where I could sit and eat a nutrient bar. I hadn't had an appetite until now.
The first bit of the ride was slow, with multiple stops within the city. I almost missed my own transfer station because of the volume of people circulating through the train.
The train past the outskirts was significantly less crowded with one guard and one conductor slowly meandering the aisles. I was able to grab an actual seat and settled in for the next bit of my journey.
The weather was supposed on and off storms - I couldn't carry a large amount of water plus my gear. I only brought two changes of clothing with extra socks, a very light tent tarp, and minimal rations to make it through the next two weeks before I needed to catch my return ship. The machinery weighed me down to the maximum I could tolerate for a few hours at a time and I couldn't physically carry more on me if I wanted to.
If I returned.
But if I didn't I would be without money, food, shelter, or any profitable skills in the countryside.
So I probably should plan on returning.
It felt nice to nap and gaze out of the window as we got further from the city and started passing through endless fields. I would have to find an area that was fallow where the constantly roaming tills weren't going to ruin my readings.
It was early morning on this particular planet when I finally arrived at the last stop before the train turned around.
Myself and three others got off the train. I immediately hopped the tracks and started making my way towards a rolling hill in the distance; a dirt trail showing that it wasn't an uncommon path to take.
I started down the route, forcing myself to ruck well until midday before taking a break. The hills were further than expected, but the path didn’t become overgrown and was still heading in an appropriate direction. The wind was starting to pick up and I could see clouds forming on the horizon.
Even as dirt was kicked up in my face, I found myself smiling - feeling like the gusts were blowing away my worries. How long had it been since I had felt the outside? Since my wedding… and even before then, it was barely anything. I hadn't realized how much I missed being on a planet until now.
It was time to pick up speed. My knees felt swollen as I forced myself onwards. The gravity was just slightly higher here - enough to cause fatigue gradually in all your joints. It wasn't anything that I hadn't handled before, I kept telling myself. I just couldn't afford to get cold in the rain, even in the mild climate.
How long had I been gone? Surely close to a full sleep/wake cycle at this point.
I hope Tarrek isn't about to get in trouble.
It had been tough deciding not to tell him. At the end of the day, I trusted he was more loyal to his brothers than me.
More time passed in silence. The ache in my left knee was quickly turning into a sharp pain with each step and it was significantly darker out.
Time to make camp.
Ducking off the small path, I made my way into a field of tall vines with an unknown small vegetable growing on them. They grew along carefully placed trellises and created a latticework overhead that would serve as cover from the rain.
I'd have to sleep light even with the extra cover.
Setting up my little sleeping bag and tarp covering, I settled in with a nutrient bar and started rebuilding my prototype. Some of it could probably survive jostling in my bag, but there were some pieces that would have to be assembled on-site.
Soon, it was too dark to work, and I didn't want to draw attention to myself with any light.
At some point the rain started coming down harder. My supplies did a good job of keeping me warm.
I half slept for a bit before a noise other than the storm woke me:
A helicopter, too low to the ground for standard protocols. At first it was a hum but as it got closer the sound of the propellers was almost deafening.
Bright beams accompanied it.
Did my tent blend in? Do I risk being seen if I move?
Should I run?
Is it worse if I do?
Maybe it's not for me.
Then, the sound of troops marching. I may not have been on a battlefield myself, but I had run enough drills with the local Ultramarine faction to have the sound burned into my memory.
Astartes weren't quiet, even when in groups of 3 or 4.
Even with the wind, their filtered mechanical voices carried through the air.
I made the decision to slowly pack my tent and leave my prototype to the side. I was far enough from the path that I was certain they wouldn't hear me. Especially not with the helicopter above. It was unlikely they'd see me from the path either.
The helicopter would likely see my supplies though, with how slowly and thoroughly it was maneuvering its light source.
Its too dark out to see… they're probably looking for a heat signal.
The vinyl of the tent could probably mask some of it, but it'd be loud to take with me through the vines.
Did I really want to run?
You planned on returning.
I missed the sun. I got to see it today.
I decided to start moving deeper into the thicket. Ideally back behind the search group instead of trying to stay in front of them. I didn't have any plan for survival past that, but that wasn't a concern at this time.
It was slow work, I couldn’t see much ahead of me. Rain was starting to get under the vinyl and I was cold.
Deeper in the fields the vines were getting thicker. Instead of leaving an obvious path to cut through, I was starting to wind my way through the messy rows.
The helicopter was passing where I had spent the night. It was behind me now, the beam ending within a few paces of my current location. Everything around me smelled overwhelmingly sweet acrid like pesticide-ridden dirt and whatever crop was growing.
I pushed on until the sound of the helicopter was no longer in my ears. In fact, it was absent altogether.
It had landed.
I needed to move quicker.
Abandoning my previous strategy and hoping the vines would give me all the cover I needed, I ditched my vinyl and started moving through the vines quicker - hoping that I was still going away from the main road. The clouds and thickets overhead were blocking out any constellation I could have used for frame of reference.
I was able to get good a good rhythm when I heard the exact thing I had been dreading.
Too close for comfort… less than a hectare away.
“Lady Guilliman, cease these antics at once.” an Ultramarine called out.
A terrible strategy, given that the vines were slowly scraping layers off any exposed skin, but I let instinct win and I started running.
“Stay in place and we will escort you back to the ship.” Even closer.
How much trouble was I in?
To my credit, I was able to run for far longer than I had expected, given that the astartes could use flame throwers and their hulking blades and mass to cut through the field whereas I was stuck dodging large roots.
However, I could tell that Guilliman’s hounds were catching up. I was tiring rapidly. There was no place to hide within the endless green and brown. The occasional calls were slowly getting closer and it was only a matter of time before they found my reckless path.
The sky was beginning to get lighter.
I paused for a moment before carefully slipping sideways into the bramble - hoping that it made my trail look like it disappeared.
Too tired to move quickly, too stubborn to face my defeat, and too scared to find out the consequences, I returned to picking my way through the field with no real direction in mind.
A loud crunch just to my right. A quick glance showed vines shifting in my periphery and blue armor.
I kept moving.
“My Lady, why are you still running?”
Tarrek. He didn’t have his helmet on, his voice unmistakable.
Something in his tone made me far colder than the rain did.
“I can hear you.” He called.
I pushed myself into a thick cluster of plants. He was unlikely to use a machete to make way through the cluster if I were in it.
I kept pushing forwards. His voice stayed at the same distance the whole time - neither gaining nor retreating.
Another call came just about an acre away to the right. Its response was out to my left.
I was being herded.
The thought alone made me want to throw up.
“I can smell you too.”
I started moving towards the astartes on the left, hoping to find a place where I could double back again.
He could've grabbed me by now.
A terrible thought.
“You're hurt, my Lady. Stop running.”
I will fight. My legs and hands were scraped through my clothes. Sap had combined with blood from my cuts and created an overwhelming itching sensation if I thought about it too long.
I stopped for a moment, letting Tarek continue his inevitable march towards me.
I'm better at dodging him while he's in armor.
I waited for the walls to close in.
From behind me, Tarrek leapt - a sudden and loud movement. I dropped out of the way and a piece of his ceramite clipped me. It hurt enough to cause my vision to swim momentarily.
Using the pathway his mass had created, I forced myself to run again and dip into a new thicket.
It was the dregs of any energy I had left.
I made it about half a minute before an armored hand stopped me, digging into my ribs enough that I could hear them physically creak.
Tarrek.
The look on his face was unreadable.
He didn't call for his brothers.
I shuddered.
“Let me go, Tarrek.” I attempted to order him. My voice was weak.
His armor dug into me more.
“Why did you run?”
Something along my spine cracked, “Let me go!” I shrieked.
His brothers hopefully heard.
His hand pushed me into the bramble as he let go, but his face was looming over mine. The heat coming off his used armor caused the foggy morning air to thicken into rolling steam. “You used my teachings against me.”
His breath smelled rancid.
I could only plead, “Please Tarrek. Let me go. If you care for me at all, let me leave.”
His expression didn't change. If he had any sympathy for me, it was long spent. “You try to flee the Imperium.”
He lifted his hand again, engulfing my face and neck in a too-gentle grip for the rage he was emitting.
His head moved to the corner of my jaw and shoulder, he rested it there as he knelt down, breathing heavily against the flesh. His weight made me sink into the thicket more, further ensnared.
“Why do you want to leave me?” It sounded as though he was about to cry.
I couldn't answer as the hand around my throat tightened and everything went black.
100% canonically speaking - I believe that astartes and primarchs are asexual because it plays into the idea of them being, essentially, overgrown children bred by the Emperor; meant to die and go to war and nothing else.
Also I think it would take away from the other types of love that have been created in the universe: familial love, brotherly love, etc...
WITH THAT SAID
Self indulgently, I want big scary men to be obsessed with me.
This is officially a multipart series that will be updated ideally every 7-14 days. 0 plot planned, just vibes.
Me 🤝 thesaurus.com
TW: MDNI, smut (oral F recieving), noncon/dubcon
DM me if you want updates.
Written by a horny author, beta read by a significantly less horny author who has 0 spacial reasoning.
<><><><><>
A PATH FORWARD pt 2
My legs carried me away from the scene to one of my favorite sections of the ship, tucked away in a corner of a food court. The booths had partisans that made it perfect for having a little extra privacy.
Normally, the area was somewhat busy with different humans taking meetings and doing work, but today it was thankfully quiet.
I wanted to rip my goddamn shirt off at this point. The collar was now outright sticking to my skin. It just added to my anger.
I didn't come into my marriage expecting to be loved, or even to be friends with my husband. But there was a part of me, perhaps childishly, that always hoped that if I could be clever or charming enough, I could overcome the odds and actually build a relationship worth being proud of. The late night talks with Guilliman had fed heavily into my never ending need to be acknowledged by superiors and bolstered my hopes. It made me foolish and impractical regarding my current situation: I was a pawn more than a wife, knowing the Strategist Primarch’s ways, and nothing more.
All this time, instead of pining, I could’ve been using the opportunity to develop my own accomplishments without the shadow of my siblings or parents looming overhead.
I looked weak. And stupid. And I hated it. Over my months aboard Lord Guilliman’s vessel, I had done nothing to establish myself and instead hid away. I had nobody to blame but myself.
Maybe I was an embarrassment to him? I never attempted to be by his side at meetings. I never attempted to take on any extra duties. I simply trusted that he'd direct me to be what he needed and left it at that.
For the first time since the day before my wedding, I cried. Not loudly, not dramatically, but curled up and sniffling softly in a little booth.
At one point another baseline server dropped off something warm and sweet in front of me with a mini curtsey, “My Lady.”
Of fucking course she knew who I was. Any other day and I would have been as invisible as normal.
Eventually, I saw a tall figure walk through the doors. They had ports scattered over their skin that immediately indicated that it was a space marine, if the hulking mass of the figure alone wasn’t a dead give away to begin with.
I watched as their head swiveled back and forth across the area before they focused on me and started walking over with measured steps.
It didn't take a genius to put it together. “Tarrek. What are you doing?”
Much to my surprise, his normally stoic and dignified demeanor did not hold up when he was out of armor.
Instead he shoved himself into the human-sized booth across from me, causing the partition to groan slightly. His knees cracked against mine somewhat painfully. The table tilted as it rested on the tops of his thighs.
The sight made me laugh and I immediately felt bad.
“My Lady. A brother told me that you rushed past him looking upset. Are you ok?” His inflection was still somewhat neutral, but I could hear concerns around the edges of his words.
His hair was damp and sticking to his forehead. His body suit had wet patches on it.
“Were you showering?” I asked dumbly.
He blinked, “Yes I try to bathe regularly my Lady.”
I pushed my drink towards him, it looked miniscule near his hands. He stared at it blankly for a moment.
“Try some. It's good.” I wonder if they served astartes-sized portions here? I wonder if Ultramarines were allowed sugary drinks?
He pinched the cup and took a small sip, eyeing me warily the whole time. “Yes, very good. Now please, I need to know if you are well… if there is somewhere we need to go to keep you safe.” He scanned the completely empty cafeteria corner.
I took the drink back. It was the same weight. The big bastard didn't even try it. “Yes Tarrek I am fine. I got into… a confrontation… with Lord Guilliman and now I'm being emotional. All is well.”
He shifted uncomfortably and the table moved in response. I grabbed my drink before it slid away. “Would you like to… discuss the matter?”
I slammed my fist down on the table suddenly, “No Tarrek. I'm fucking mad and all I want to do is strangle the bastard.”
I didn't realize I felt that way.
“I believe that is considered heresy, my Lady.” His eyes trailed to where my hand was now.
Was that a fucking joke?
He tried to move once again and the table shook in response, “If you would follow me, my Lady. Perhaps I have a better idea.”
He motioned for me to bring my cup and started walking at his own comfortable pace across the cafeteria. I jogged to catch up.
“Where are we going?” I almost choked trying to talk, drink, and keep up at the same time.
“Sparring rings.”
“Are we allowed?”
I swear to the Emperor that he rolled his eyes at me. It made me wonder what the helmet hid day to day.
“You are the wife of a primarch. You can do whatever you wish so long as your husband allows it.”
“Respectfully, Tarrek, fuck my husband at this very moment.” He scanned the area - it was unlikely anyone heard me. But it was a reminder to watch my tongue.
<><><>
The sparring area was in a part of the ship I had never visited, with small sections in the corners that were more private and obviously meant for one-on-one training. The padding was sparse and there were no weapons or training dummies in sight. It was frigid in this area of the ship. I could see my breath in the air… Tarrek was practically steaming from his own supernatural warmth.
“Have you ever trained hand to hand before, Miss?” He looked ecstatic right now; it was odd. Maybe he resented me for how much I made him stand around and this was how he planned on killing me.
I nodded, “Yeah when I did foundational military training. Only against other humans though.” I took my place across from him on the mat.
“Get on the circle and show me what you know.”
I felt my heart pounding, but in a good way. Adrenaline and rage from earlier made me too-eager to try to take down a fucking space marine bare handed.We slowly started circling each other. He seemed to be unwilling to make the first move.
I lunged for his knee and grunted involuntarily when I knocked the wind out of myself. I was able to latch on for a moment before he flung me off his shin and sent me tumbling backwards towards the painted outer circle again, only pausing for a moment to see if I was alright.
I shrugged it off, “You're heavier than I expected.”
He grinned and leapt. I barely had time to lunge out of the way; I don’t know how the ground didn’t crack from his weight as he landed in a crouch. I didn’t allow myself time to consider my next move. I was still within arms’ reach so I threw myself diagonally away from him again.
He probably could have grabbed me at that point but instead he stood up straight and turned towards me.
I jumped at him again and put my shoulder into his gut as hard as possible.
It felt good to hit something hard.
Tarrek stepped backwards as I made contact with his abdomen instead of letting my shoulder dislocate from the force of impact.
And so it went on, back and forth: Tarrek letting me dodge a few too-slow attacks and, in turn, I landed my own too-sloppy hits.
I could tell he was getting bored and I was rapidly becoming fatigued. Being turned into an unwitting cuck could really take it out of a girl.
“My Lady. Perhaps I could give you a few more recommendations for fighting?” He suggested while I was taking a break to sip my drink.
I nodded, “I have a feeling I'm out of practice.” My knuckles hurt and it was hard to open and close my hands.
“You were upset. Now you're clear headed. Let's make something of it.” He rolled his shoulders. “Let's do something practical.”
I glanced at the clock. It was about 10 minutes before I normally met Roboute for dinner. Tarrek followed my gaze.
“Unless you have somewhere else to be.”
I scowled at him, “What makes you think you can be so casual?”
He ignored my question. It was a bluff on my end anyways - I had, after all, been practically begging him to quit his formalities after all the time we spent together.
“You know, I hear all of your conversations with my father during dinner.” He returned to the outer circle of the ring.
I flinched, “And? What of it?”
His eyes, a slightly darker shade of blue than his gene-father's, met mine, “Nothing. I just thought you should know.”
Once again, I was angry. If only my emotions would stop being strung about: maybe then I could stand a chance on this fucking ship. “Do I not get a moment to myself? Ever?”
Tarrek was facing me again, “I'll make a deal with you, my Lady. Escape me and I'll let you be alone.”
I took a step towards him. I might have been able to pull off “intimidating” if he weren't an artificially enhanced meta-humanoid. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I would be more comfortable leaving you alone if I knew you could defend yourself properly.” He shrugged.
I rolled my eyes, “Oh piss off, Tarek.”
I didn't really mean it. It felt like my first real conversation with a friend in months.
He held my gaze for a moment, studying me more intensely than he ever had. “You were very upset earlier.”
I don't know what prompted me to confess. Maybe I felt bad for being so rude to him when he was just doing his job…
“I walked in on Lord Guilliman and another woman.” Tarrek remained silent. The statement hung in the air.
I cleared my throat and spoke again, “They were, uh, having an intimate moment.”
I glanced back at his neutral expression and sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Sex. They were having sex. And I'm fucking embarassed and mad because I thought maybe I had a shot at being someone worth caring for, ya know?”
And then.
Then -
I was suddenly pinned to the ground with no foreseeable way of escaping. It confirmed my earlier suspicions that Tarrek had been taking it easy on me because there was no way he had moved that fast earlier when sparring.
Not only was I pinned to the ground. But I was pinned face down, ass up. Tarrek's steady and impossibly slow breath ghosting over my forehead as he tilted to look under himself at me.
“I would start fighting now if I were you.” His jugular was in clear view when I tried to look him in the eye.
I shifted my weight a little. Wherever I felt a give, Tarrek noticed and pressed me down further towards the ground.
Is this what the woman Roboute was fucking felt like at one point?
Tarrek had the mercy to let me have my right arm, my dominant one, free. I found that kindness annoying and immediately swung at his throat in retribution.
He coughed when it hit but didn't move otherwise. I didn't expect to feel so defeated so immediately… normally suckered punching a person in the throat would end a fight - and I was ready to be done.
“I have a question, Miss.” Tarrek said suddenly.
The astartes was an enigma, to say the least.
“And this is the best time to ask it?” I attempted to push his weight off of me one more time. It was useless, as previously confirmed.
He ducked his head down to look at me, eyes shining. “Why do you baselines enjoy being pinned like this so much?”
Oh I was about the fucking die. Mortification? Exhaustion? An actual heart attack? It surely would be one of those.
I stuttered, there was nothing I could think of in response to his query. This was a complete change in character from my normally stoic shadow.
He kept talking, “I had Shan almost exactly like this when she talked me into being your guard.” Well that was news to me. “Only difference is that she told me that she wanted my cock up her-”
Yeah ok I was moving. This was arguably the worst possible turn of events.
I swung again at his throat and his hand -lazily, mockingly- went to bat my own away. I took the opportunity to grab his arm and attempted to bite the shit out of it, lunging forwards with the little space I had.
He reacted quickly and swung his arm away and shifted his weight to the side, “It's ok if you don't want to answer.” He said from somewhere above me, sounding panicked.
I rolled to my side and tried to escape from under him, pushing my partially escaped leg against his thighs.
“You probably should stop wiggling around so much, focus your energy on practical moves…” He continued rambling while I struggled for my life. I had almost gotten out from under him when he sighed and flipped me onto my back: straddling my hips. Well, hovering, since he'd crush my pelvis if he actually sat on them.
He looked down at me and blinked. “How did you get that scar on your temple?” His finger traced the scar lightly. It felt slightly numb under the touch.
I frowned. At least it was a change in topic. “I hit my head on the corner of a desk as a child.”
He leaned forwards, examining it even closer, thumb now running over its edges as if trying to memorize the pattern, “I enjoy hearing the stories you tell father during dinners.”
I pulled my wrists violently out of his grasp, attempting to twist his arm in the process. He let me loose. At this point I was so startled by his actions that I found comfort in the small freedom.
“Did you know? That I was being cheated on?” I took control of the fluctuating conversation.
He shifted his weight back onto his heels and suddenly I was completely free - sparring match over. “I'm not sure what the standard expectations are for political relationships such as yours. If there are restrictions on intimacy as part of your marriage contract, I wouldn't be aware it was a stipulation since that information is available to my purview.”
I sat up, legs sprawled out in front of me. “But did you know… that he was intimate with others, as you put it?”
He copied my position and sat down fully on the sparring mat. “I'm sorry my Lady, I didn't think it was something that my father was doing wrong.”
I flopped onto my back on the mat. True exhaustion seeping into my bones. “How long has Guilliman been doing this? Since the start?”
“I don't know, but if it's any consolation, he didn't take any lovers during the beginning of your marriage.” He shook his head, “Knowing my father, he undoubtedly has a reason for his actions.”
I raised an eyebrow, “Hard to think of Guilliman having sexual relations to get what he wants diplomatically.”
“That isn’t what I meant.”
“Well then what do you mean?”
Tarrek brushed his frizzy hair back. I would've thought it would be metallic - sleek and shining like his fathers’. “As I was going to say earlier before you started getting upset with me… I've heard plenty of your conversations during dinner with my father. I would dare say he likes you.”
I laughed and a large plume of air condensed over me in the cold, “I surely haven't been able to tell.”
“You should just ask him.”
Absolutely not.
I shivered again. This time from dread. I would have to go back to the Primarch's chambers to shower at some point. The sweat was starting to make me extra cold. “I'm not ready to face Primarch Guilliman again.”
Tarrek held out a hand and helped me stand up, “If it would suit you, Miss, you may sleep in my cot tonight. I'll stand guard.”
I sighed, “I think I really just want to be alone at this point, Tarrek.”
He squeezed my hand for a moment. I had hardly realized he was still holding it. “You know I can't leave your side, my Lady.”
<><><>
Tarrek's room was smaller than my own bedchambers by a considerable amount. It was sparse and exactly what I’d expect from someone with his status as a soldier. He didn't seem self conscious of it as I made my way into it.
“And this isn't unacceptable?” I asked.
He started grabbing his armor off the stand. I watched him connect pieces to his various ports with morbid curiosity.
“Why would that be?” He glanced up from his work briefly.
“Well…” I stared at a piece of his wall with a small drawing on it, “I am a married woman in a room with another man. Alone.”
He reflected on the statement for a moment, a divot forming between his eyes. “I am your guard. All know that. And besides,” he scanned the room casually, “the quarters here are so close-packed that anybody would immediately be able to hear any misdeeds.”
Thinking of his comment on Shan, I impulsively asked: “And do misdeeds happen amongst the astartes?”
He shook his head, “Very rarely. Lust isn't part of our basic nature.”
Upon closer inspection of the picture, it had a small signature in the corner. I couldn’t make it out.
“It's by an artist from my home planet. It's rare for us to ever return, but I had a chance to as a supply drop.” He motioned towards the drawing.
Suddenly uncomfortable again, I shifted. “Are you sure it's ok if I sleep here? It feels intrusive.”
He was fully in his armor now, voice box making his tone neutral, “Of course, my Lady. Private showers are just this way.”
<><><>
I had managed to avoid Roboute for about 10 days with the gentle guidance of Tarrek and perhaps even some help from Roake and her never-ending odd jobs.
During that time I had been determined to do something that was actually meaningful with my new life. I found myself getting in touch with old friends and research associates. I hadn’t spoken to them since the wedding and I felt overwhelmingly guilty. There was no reason to not contact them.
On the conference call with my previous personal research team, Rine, one of my closest associates and the one who stepped up with my sudden absence, was speaking animatedly about the newest advancements in old 3D geographical scanning equipment.
“-we may be able to improve safety of the mines utilizing the frequency emitter portions of the device from surface or atmospheric levels instead of needing it deeper in the ground to read around it. We also might be able to get better understandings of different trace minerals in the area with some programming adjustments. It’d make the digs more cost effective and reduce the risk of collapses.”
“You should send over some of your notes. I can start looking into how to change its scanning features and we can start getting prototypes to send out for trial runs if I figure it out.” I offered. “I might even be able to scrounge up the materials here to build one myself.”
She nodded, sharp eyes sparkling, “Absolutely! Maybe, if you have the time, you could even-”
A sharp knock came on the office door. She paused as the background noise came through the call.
“Lord Guilliman is requesting you in his chambers, my Lady.” An unknown, mechanical voice.
I turned back to the hologram, “I need to go. Send me a message with whatever you need me to do. I’ll try to get on it as soon as possible.”
I swung open my office door, immediately getting boxed in by two towering figures blocking the doorway: Tarrek was nowhere to be found. He had been begrudgingly giving me more space recently… and I suspected that he found my work incredibly boring. Without Roboute to talk to about my days, he had unfortunately become a victim of my mindless chatting most evenings. It might have scared him away some.
I dipped my head, “Of course. Let me just return some of my papers to the library and I will be on my way at once.”
They seemed to hesitate as they turned around to leave; keeping a Primarch waiting while you completed a chore likely wasn't an appropriate response in their eyes.
I made sure to nod at the pair as I left my corner of the ship and made my way over to the aforementioned library. While there, I found myself engaged in a very helpful conversation regarding coding with a surprisingly talkative adeptus mechanicus who was researching ancient technology.
I didn't bother to show up to my husbands’ summons.
<><><>
I managed to avoid receiving a second formal summons for another week by sneaking around and shifting my general sleep/wake cycle.
It was nearing the end of my work day and I found myself getting frustrated with my progress reprogramming the old mining machinery with some of the codes Rine had sent over. The work was too tedious even for my own tastes and it was quickly becoming impossible without an actual prototype to use for testing.
Normally, I would have been heading back to Guilliman’s wing for our regular dinners at this time. I clearly had not attended any of our previously scheduled meetings since “the incident”, nor did I have any particular intentions of returning any time soon. I had found myself perfectly content with grabbing a quick snack on my way to my own impromptu bedroom. (I convinced Tarrek to find me a more private spot.)
It was on my way to said bedroom when Tarrek pointed out two Ultramarines obviously walking towards us.
“You know, I think I could both use another cup of recaf… more work to do tonight, ya know?” I found myself mumbling.
I spun on my heel and started returning to the cafeteria, Tarrek immediately turning to follow me without question. Once we rounded the corner I threw open a small doorway that was labeled “Servant use”, muttered an apology to Tarrek, and disappeared into the smaller sized corridor where the large astartes couldn't easily follow.
After a minute or two of hurried walking, I found a doorway that marked a stairwell. Maybe I should start sitting in the strictly human-sized areas of the ship to do work? No. Tarrek would never let me.
I let myself linger for a moment; I had never been off the third floor of the ship. Today was as good of a day as any to change that, I supposed.
So I made my way down to the first floor: The industrial level. The doors were heavy as they swung open to a semi-busy factory floor.
Large crates were being maneuvered by cranes. Boxes of munitions were being unwrapped and loaded onto trolleys to be brought up to the kitchen. Pairs of guards regularly marched through the area. I could probably find basic supplies for some of the devices I had been hoping to build down here. Better yet: news of my summons likely wouldn't have made it to this section of the ship.
On the furthest side of the factory floor there I spotted a series of offices meant to be used for overlooking the work being done. I made my way over quickly, minding the hazard signs with increasingly graphic designs of machinery-induced mutilations.
As I got closer, one looked unused. A quick wiggle of the handle proved that it was unlocked. An even quick scan of the desk showed that it was empty given the light layer of dust. The light inside the room was dim enough that I was somewhat comforted by its glow.
With nothing better to do but wait it out and think of a way to find work supplies, I curled up under the desk out of the immediate view of the office windows and locked the door. The prototype would have to be small, which meant losing sensitivity…
<><><>
The sudden sound of metal ripping woke me up. I damn near hit my head on the underside of the desk as I jerked awake.
In the next moment, the desk above me was simply no longer in my field of view as it disappeared from its position overhead.
Crouched in the doorway was Tarrek. He looked eerie in the dim factory light with his expressionless armor and glowing eye vents. His form had, at some point in our days together, stopped being menacing. This very moment was a good reminder that he was more machine than human and I shivered.
I breathed out a sigh of relief nonetheless, “Oh thank the Emperor it's only you.”
“You are being summoned by the Primarch.” His voice was neutral, although it always was through the helmet, but more measured than usual. Ah, he was probably pissed that I ditched him.
He shifted, allowing me to see slightly behind him where the desk had been flung out into the factory. It landed at the feet of two other Ultramarines. One was almost as tall as Roboute and wore no helmet. His expression looked grim.
Fuck.
“Tell him I'm busy.” I whispered.
We both knew damn well I wasn't getting out of this.
He remained silent.
I sighed and stood up. He, in turn, backed out of the small doorway and returned to the side of the two other astartes.
I glanced at the large clock on the factory wall once I made it out of the office: It was the middle of my old sleep cycle. Guilliman was usually busy again by now. He rarely lingered more than an hour or two after eating to chat before excusing himself to return to whatever his own business was. Maybe he’d be in a regularly scheduled meeting and I wasn’t actually about to face him?
I wanted to argue my case so desperately as I approached the group. Guilliman doesn’t give a shit about me - just let me be and it’ll all blow over. This is a waste of your time and mine! Go fetch someone from his supposed harem! Something told me they couldn't give less of a fuck.
Without a word, the tall one started walking across the factory floor towards the elevators. As the doors slid open, Tarrek stepped in and I was motioned to follow. The tall one stepped in last, and, instead of turning to face the doors, he remained facing me as if I were going to miraculously escape. Then again… there was an escape hatch on the ceiling of the elevator… Maybe I could climb out? No. That was a terrible idea.
Eventually, we made it to Guilliman's room. Tarrek and the other regularly sized Ultramarine remained at the beginning of the hallway that led to the Primarch's quarters.
The tall one walked with me up to the bed chamber door before knocking loudly three times and swinging the door open.
I had no remaining dignity after sleeping under a desk and being dragged up to my husband, so I opted to plead silently with my eyes at the tall Ultramarine before he motioned me inside with a horrifically apathetic expression.
So I stepped inside and the door swung closed behind me so quickly it almost hit my ass.
The Primarch stood where our dinner table was normally set up near his window, hands clasped behind his back in a stance that extruded authority. Instead of looking out the windows in his normal thoughtful manner, he was already looking at me. I caught his eyes for a split second before looking away and outright avoiding eye contact, like a coward.
I wanted so so badly to be angry at that moment. Instead I just felt sad.
It remained silent in the room save for the sound of the air vents pushing cold air through the area. A twisted part of me had hoped he’d begin pleading for forgiveness the second I arrived.
I didn’t last long before I had to say something, “Well, I figured I should grab some fresh clothes and head out again. Roake wants me-”
“Sit on the bed.”
I glanced at the bed. It was neatly made. I had avoided looking at it when I was forced to sneak in and out of the room for new clothing over the past few weeks. I wrinkled my nose, “I'd rather not.”
“Your Primarch is commanding you.” Roboute had never used that tone with me. It felt like ice was being forced down my spinal column. He turned towards me fully when he said it, skin appearing to glow from within as he stood tall and ordered me about.
I moved to the bed and pulled myself onto it. It felt like my legs had a mind of their own. Could Primarchs order a person to do whatever they pleased? Warp their minds with psyker energy and puppeteer them at will? It seemed like a power that they could easily have.
I refused to take my eyes off his face. If I had known him any better, I would say that he looked uneasy. Not surprised per se, but certainly not sure if he had any upper hand at this point… Because really? What was he going to do? Humiliate me? He already did. Yell? That seemed out of character. Manipulate and gaslight me? I had dealt with enough politicians to know that I could survive their barbs.
I had almost spoke again when Roboute started:
“The reform work you did on your home planet was quite remarkable. Are you aware of that?” He took a singular stride towards me before stopping.
I shrugged, “My people aren't fighters. We needed engineers if we had any hope of staying worthy of a nearby supply route.” It was the truth.
“I watched your petitions before your local councils for educational funding. It was well spoken and thoughtful.” Another step towards me. I fought the urge to lean back. I'd only end up on my back in the bed if I did.
I narrowed my eyes, “I appreciate the recognition, my Lord.”
Was he going anywhere with this? Did he think flattery would save him?
“I, for all my efforts, have never had particular talent in public speaking…” He trailed off, as if emphasizing the point that he didn't know what to say.
He was an entity personally created to be perfect by the God-Emperor himself. He could quite literally tear apart entire hive colonies with his bare hands. He was, by almost all accounts, a God in the flesh himself. When he spoke, the universe was silent and all those around him felt his message in their very souls. He could whisper and his voice would still vibrate through my bones. Of course the Primarch was talented in speaking. It was part of his damned job as he fought for the Imperium.
This man was trying to kiss my ass and play humble. I could hear my jaw creak as it clenched.
He continued, “Two years ago, by your standards, I watched a live video of you advocating for an education referendum. I knew that you would be my wife then.” Two years? We had only been married for mere months and I had only known about the marriage for a few days before the actual wedding.
He took another step forwards, his body heat was palpable now. “I also must admit that I found you attractive as well. Watching your parlays. And at our wedding, I wasn't aware that the camera dulled your radiance. Your charisma that day outweighed all of my brothers’ combined when you spoke to all of our guests.”
Maybe he could talk his way out of this. I was certainly starting to feel flattered and flushed.
The texture of the sheets under my fingertips kept me grounded. Kept me just upset enough to not give in.
He stepped back slightly, “When we first met. I didn't know what to say to you. I didn't know what to do for you. You never seemed to want or need anything. Especially me. It is the most unusual thought, given that I was created to be everything humanity may desire and there isn't a moment of my life where I may be viewed as unnecessary.”
He gave a twisted smile. “I admit it was nice at first. To have that solace… to have that scapegoat.” He sighed, “But then I realized, between endless war meetings, that I was the one who needed you and our time together desperately… I have never truly needed anything before.” His voice was so deep it felt like thunder rolling overhead.
His last step towards me was almost a lunge. Closing the last of the distance faster than I could possibly process.
Suddenly, The Primarch's massive arms were braced on either side of me, pressing into the mattress and boxing me in. His entire frame dwarfed mine as I sat dumbstruck in front of him.
I still refused to lean back. To give in. I was proud of myself at that moment.
Guilliman didn’t stop talking. “But then I realized I wanted you as well. And for all my passing needs, I have never experienced what it is like to be a man who wants.” Technically, he wasn't even a man. “And then when I got you, you consistently remained out of reach.”
The bed groaned as he shifted more weight forwards into his arms, our faces almost touching. He was wearing a toga as usual, his veined hands dug into the mattress in a way that was equal parts arousing and terrifying.
“All that to say that I am sorry. I know I tarnished our marriage. I know I disrespected your traditions; fractured your pride and trust. I am not asking for forgiveness, but the most I can do, when I reflect on my own flaws and what I did wrong, is simply tell you what I want from you, as you so boldly requested many nights ago.”
I don't know what came over me. I laughed, harshly. “So first you cheat on me like a whore… and now you apologize to me like one too?” I leaned back slightly, trying to find space, “Get the fuck out of my space Roboute.”
He hummed in response, moving his head downwards towards my own and closing the last bit of distance I had just created. When I thought he was going to kiss me, he instead rotated his head so his large cheek rubbed against mine - stubble burning my own skin where it scraped.
Then he moved lower, his nose catching at the crook of my jaw and inhaling for a mere moment before continuing downwards.
I recoiled partially when he licked up the side of my neck, catching sweat that was forming there from the forced proximity. It was so gentle it almost tickled.
This was the part where I was supposed to tell him to shove it up his ass, right? Where I set boundaries? My hands moved from the bed to him. To push him away? To pull him closer? I wasn’t sure.
He shifted more weight into his hands. It wasn't the bed that groaned this time.
His mouth opened, I could feel the release of air as it did, though I was still staring straight ahead. I felt teeth. One sharp set along the side he just licked… the other on the equal and opposite side. It was dizzying to think that his jaw could proportionally cover that distance and… his tongue was once again licking the sweat off the front of my throat. It was hard to tell if I was terrified or excited at that moment.
I swallowed and his teeth pressed down enough that I could feel them begin to indent my neck.
“What about what I want?” I whispered - because talking too loudly moved my neck into his feral grasp and I was partially convinced he was about to rip my jugular out with his own teeth since I had just cussed at him moments before.
The massive head of the primarch dipped down further, releasing my neck. He was almost completely bowed down before me as he rested his forehead on my sternum. It was heavy.
“What do you want?” He asked.
I didn't know what to answer. I don’t think I even knew how to breathe in that moment.
He laughed, rumbling against my chest, “Lovely girl. Let your husband decide what you want tonight. Tomorrow you can choose for yourself.”
I didn't know how to respond besides unfurling my hands from his garb and letting some of his weight push me backwards slightly.
With a speed that almost gave me whiplash, I was on my back, head on the pillows, Roboute Guilliman in all his glory on his hands and knees above me. From this position, his form seemed more vast than ever before.
Hovering over me, I could tell that I was correct in my hypothesis earlier: He did, in fact, have his own intrinsic radiance that caused him to glow in all but the darkest of light. It seemed to seep out of his eternally tan skin. With each passing moment, I felt more and more like an imposter in my own bed.
A flash of the grey sheets in my periphery and I couldn’t help but think of the other woman he fucked. I felt my stomach turn at the thought. Surely she was just as charismatic as myself if the divinity in front of me was so willing to get lost in the feeling of her?
A singular finger turned my eyes from the sheets and back up into endless blue ones.
“Do not distance yourself from me now, love. Not when you know the intensity of my desires.” I couldn't stop the twisting feeling in my gut.
Even then, I found myself eyes flickering away from the overwhelming pull of Guilliman's own.
There was the door I had clung to like a lifeline; the corner of the rug where I stood.
“Speak, little love. What must I do to have you here with me again? To gain your devotion?” Atop me, it felt like I was directly next to an incinerator. I could have very well been burning alive. It made me lightheaded.
Was I his love? Truly?
My palms were sweaty and shaking, “I can't stop thinking about it.”
He was silent above me. Pinning me not with any form of restraint, but with his presence all the same.
“Then let me continue to beg for forgiveness. Let me apologize, like a whore.”
Roboute lifted me up, and for a moment I felt giddy with the sensation of being moved, doll-like, before panic set in again. We were walking somewhere: It was hard to tell when the wide wall of his chest made up my full view.
Moments later, my back hit cool glass - the window. The chill felt nice against the overwhelming warmth radiating from the colossus I was pinned against.
I was being moved again, suddenly, and the room came back into view as two hands encompassed either of my ass cheeks and up along my ribcage as they held me up, forcing my legs to strain as they spread over his shoulders. I could feel his traps pressing into the backs of my thighs as I was kept aloft.
Am I really going to give in? Just like this?
It took the remaining bit of my might, my willpower - my voice felt more meek than ever before, “Roboute, no, we really do need to ta-”
But then his mouth was between my legs. Licking me through the fabric of my pants. Whatever thoughts I did have were no longer present, having been shrived clean of my mind with the sudden intimacy. I could feel my own wetness that had been slowly accumulating over the course of our discussion increase.
He inhaled deeply for a moment, eyelashes fluttering, before he simply tore through the layers of fabric between us and created an opening straight to my core. And then his tongue was there too. The discomfort in my lower abdomen was tightening into something too strong for me to be able to stay still.
I pushed my shoulders into the cool glass so I had the leverage to press my hips harder onto his face. A hand grabbed my face with bruising force, pressing my cheeks into my teeth and wrenching my eyes downwards.
“Look at me while I pleasure you.” Even the brief moments when his mouth wasn't on me were torture.
The skin of his cheeks and jaw were glistening already. His hair slightly ruffled - I hadn't realized I had moved my hands to entangle in it. His eyes were steady on mine.
I nodded.
His hand moved my head side to side, mockingly. “No, you will address me directly in bed. And you will tell me what you want.”
“Yes my Lord.” I could hardly find the breath to say it. “Please… let me…” a piece of my pride wouldn't let me say it.
“Do you want to cum on my tongue, wife?”
It burned, looking in his eyes. The pressure was immense. “Please. I want that.”
My hands gripped his hair tighter… tight enough that I would have been ripping out a mortal man's locks. My hips couldn't stop twitching around him.
I almost threw my head back into the window when he resumed, but his hand was holding me in place. I had no choice but to remain watching him lap between my legs. His eyes were hazy, but remained on my own nonetheless - expecting me to remain present; to be devoted to the deity who was giving me pleasure.
And then I, for lack of any better phrasing, shattered: it felt like all pieces of me were scattered across the galaxy. The world darkened for a moment.
It took a few moments to come back to my senses again.
Guilliman was still in the same place. Still languidly licking between my legs as if I didn't just die and return back to my body.
“It was worth the wait, I think, feeling you cum against me like that.” He said as he pulled away. And oh, his face and neck were drenched. He rubbed himself off absentmindedly against my thigh. Looking out the window behind me. “If you were the whore in this situation, I'd bend you over and fuck you against the glass while you look at all of the realm I am conquering on your behalf.”
I remained silent. Or, at least, I didn't speak: I was breathing raggedly at this point.
His eyes flickered up to mine and he grinned, grip shifting so I dropped down and we were eye to eye, his torso pressing me into the window and my legs around his ribcage. I could feel myself getting his toga wet.
“Of course, your tight hole will need time before I can play with you like that.”
To emphasize the point, a finger worked its way between my legs and pushed between my folds towards my opening; it was a teasingly light pressure where I so desperately wanted him to push the digit inside me. My legs being spread so far apart around the Primarch's torso only made the basal need to be filled worse.
I shifted, trying to reduce the returning ache in my core and something in my hip clicked slightly.
“So delicate,” Roboute sighed. I was once again carried across the room and to the couch where, instead of placing me on it, he grabbed a pillow and blanket with a free hand before returning to the area near the window where we just were.
He kneeled, setting the pillow and blanket down and letting me stand and stretch for a moment. Multiple places clicked and popped as I pushed my arms upwards.
I allowed myself a moment to let my gaze linger out the window at the endless expanse of black we were floating through.The peace was ruined when the Primarch outright ripped off my torn pants and tugged my shirt apart seconds later.
I was once again pulled helplessly into Guilliman's gravity as his hand returned to my cunt once again and my knees buckled. He simply maneuvered me so I was on my back and my legs were spread apart over his shoulders and returned to tasting me from this new position.
Truthfully, I think I came so hard the first time my clit was numb to any external stimulus at this point.
Maybe I looked too distant or not ardent enough, because without warning the demigod before me used the thumb that was holding my waist to roughly press into my clit and shoved his tongue as deep into my pussy as it could go, forcing pieces of me to surrender to the pressure. His other hand was reached up to stroke over my jaw in a manner that could have been interpreted as soothing.
I was on fire, and oh fuck did it hurt too. Did this count as losing my virginity? How long could a tongue be? My heels dug into his back as I tried to push away.
“Shh, shh love. It will be ok.” He calmed me, pausing only for a moment before returning to his previous task, the sting feeling even more acute the second time around as he pushed in.
It was too much and not enough.I tried to keep my head up and watch, but instead the Primarch turned my face so I could watch us in the reflection of the window.
I was wrecked. I looked strung out. At some point tears had started leaking out of my eyes and my lips were puffy. We hadn't even kissed. My neck had small divots in it, bruising locally where I had been held in place by Roboute’s teeth before. My chest was multicolored from a deep flush that I couldn't escape. There were light red marks along my torso and thighs where I had been held in place by my husband’s unwavering grip.
The most lewd sight though, were our movements: I was sliding back and forth along the floor on the blanket as an all encompassing hand pushed and pulled my body. He was controlling it all: forcing me to fuck myself on him. His tongue was purposefully curling upwards towards the front of my walls and while his thumb pressed over my clit.
I felt myself becoming desperate and needy again at the sight. It wasn't enough, I needed more.
My heels pressed down into solid muscle - pulling, not pushing away this time. My hamstrings burned at the effort. The primarch hardly noticed and kept fucking me on his tongue with a steady pace.
I knew he wanted me to say it. I knew he was going to drag this out otherwise; the unhurried pace he chose despite my increased squirming was proof enough.
“Please Roboute, help me cum again.” I kept my eyes locked on his reflection.
Instantly his tongue was replaced by a finger directly against the songy area within me I so badly needed him to reach moments before.
“Then cum, wife.” Was all he said.
And I did as my Primarch commanded.
I didn't think it was possible, but the orgasm hit me just as hard as it did the last time. Even as I came down from the high my abdomen kept spasming and I couldn't stop the shaking in my thighs.
This time when I moved to sit upright I was legitimately light headed and swayed slightly.
A gentle hand pushed me to lie back down and the air around me cooled momentarily as Guilliman stepped away. If I could have formed a singular thought, none were found.
Roboute came back with water and helped me sit against the glass window as I sipped, sitting down as well and allowing me to lean against his side. My ears were literally ringing and I was still seeing spots.
I set the cup down gently. “Don’t you want me to… pleasure you?”
He sighed, “You are tired and overheated. You need sleep.”
Sleep sounded wonderful right now. I felt slightly guilty though. I rolled my shoulders and moved to climb on top of Guilliman. He stopped me by grabbing the blanket and pillow nearby and placing me in a position that I slept normally when I didn’t feel like sleeping in the bed. My eyes were looking out the window.
“Not tonight little love. Admittedly, I am tired too.” He sounded the same as he always did.
Much to my surprise, Guilliman positioned himself behind me. I hadn't expected him to stick around. I almost vocalized the thought.
Instead I asked, “Are you not going to be uncomfortable?”
His breath made my hair tickle my ears. “I have never been more comfortable in all my millenia.” Millennia. “Sleep well, little love. I will be here when you wake.”
<><><>
The hulking mass behind me slept like the dead. I suppose being expected to work for months on end with little rest would do that to a soul.
Still, when I woke from being outright uncomfortable and too fucking hot in the middle of the sleep cycle, I had expected Roboute's senses to wake him up immediately when I crawled away from him.
I placed the pillow against him and tossed the blanket partially over his curled up form, momentarily feeling guilty that the Primarch was sleeping on the floor.
I had been awake for an hour at least, truthfully. I had been unable to fall back asleep despite my best efforts.
With the Primarch still deep in unconsciousness, it was easy to grab some clothes quickly and slip out of the room.
There were no guards at the door when I left. Tarrek was thankfully at the end of the hall, alone.
“How was speaking with your husband, my Lady?” He asked quietly.
I gave him a dour look, “There was little talking involved. And I need a shower. Then we need to go down to the factory floor again.”
The soldier nodded in confirmation and started walking towards, presumably, his quarters.
I pretended that I was jogging out of Guilliman’s wing because of Tarrek's walking speed, not because I was fleeing my husband a second time.
<><><><>
Multiple people asked to be tagged and then I didnt realize that my inbox deletes read messages. Please re-message me so I can keep track fr this time. (Sorry)
Roboute Guilliman x Unnamed FMC (no specific features mentioned)
Part 1 of ? ;; can be read as standalone.. the next part will also be smut don't worry
Word count: 7421 of 14000ish currently written; can be bribed into writing more if you're nice
MDNI
TW: Explicit 18+, vague mention if SA
Smut <not marked> under the cut... I wrote this for multiple hours, you fuckers can read 5 minutes of exposition. (Voyeurism, PIV)
Barely beta read by a very tired author.
Have mercy on me I was a science major and the last time I published something it was on fanfiction.net
DM if you want added to a tag list
No AI was used at any point during the creation of this story.
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The dress in question was no doubt stunning, an ultramarine blue with perfect embroidered silvers spots hidden within the multiple gauzy layers. It was far from my first choice of wedding dresses, but with such a short notice I had little other choice but to trust the team hired to prepare me for the ceremony.
The ceremony… It was hours away. The poor hand maidens surrounding me had their work cut out for them. My obsessive glances in the mirror showed small bits of their work as the minutes ticked on: purple and puffy undereyes were concealed, eye drops stopped the general red and bloodshot look. Cracked and bitten lips were painted over multiple times.
All said and done, no grandiose hairstyle could fix the slouch of my shoulders - stopping them from curling inwards made my back burn with effort and the laces of the dress dig in even more.
I wasn't a fool. I knew that my fate in life was to marry. My parents never hid that fact from me. I watched two older brothers and two older sisters be put in the same position that I was in; go through the same array of anger and apathy.
To say that my father was proud of the union would have been putting it mildly. I, however, couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of mortification. To say the wedding was unprecedented was an understatement. There were so many impracticalities to my upcoming wedding that, quite frankly, it was an embarrassment to us both.
“He is quite attractive,” a lady spoke idly as she lightly dusted my shoulders with some dust that was supposed to make my skin glowy. Another glance in the mirror: I just looked sweaty.
I fought the urge to pull my knees to my chest and curl up in a ball, “All primarchs are beautiful.”
She hummed in agreement, “But Lord Guilliman is not unnaturally so. You likely can look upon his face for longer than that of, say, Lord Sanguinius.”
One of many overlooked challenges I was about to face: baselines like myself were not meant to withstand the presence of a Primarch. Our minds fail, our knees buckle. We were rendered nothing more than thoughtless bugs to be crushed underfoot. It was all the Emperor’s design when he built his sons. Our pledges to them were supposed to be those of worship rather than wedding vows.
“I am fortunate to be able to provide such a powerful alliance for our planet and system.” I had likely repeated the same line in some form over a hundred times within the past week. I didn’t magically start believing it at any point.
Maybe instead of stopping at the end of the aisle I'd simply keep marching forwards off the balcony.
The same talkative woman prattled on, “Of course, he is lucky to have such a perfect bride.”
I couldn't hold in the snort that rushed its way out of me.
“It's true! You are young and beautiful, well-rounded and good-hearted… A strong conversationalist and quick learner. You have done many great achievements for your people and our world prospers because of your work.” If I hadn't met this person roughly three hours ago, maybe my ego would have been bolstered.
It was an overstatement to say the least: I was in the local military for my home planet for four years - placed in a station that would never see the horrors of war. I had a few opportunities to handle diplomatic disputes within our current system - small enough forays that direct Imperium oversight wasn't necessarily needed.
After my time serving, I came back to a pre-made political position built just for me. While in office, I shifted some money around and spearheaded improvement of education for my home planet… convinced my father that our people were better scientists than they were fighters. With our relatively low population, our population could become far greater than simple soldiers.
Normally the reminder of my fights within the political theater would have given me some form of pride but what was I really, compared to a primarch? A dull flash in a pan? A blink of the eye? Some dumb girl who was being pawned off for a handshake and slightly better-kept promise of safety?
Emperor’s Throne, Lord Guilliman must've faced marriage proposals by the millions. Why did he say yes to my father's offer?
This was a fucking terrible idea. For all involved.
<><><>
The ceremony.
It was as traditional as it could be. Hundreds of thousands of onlookers filled the streets and towers surrounding my family’s skyscraper. We were on a relatively high up floor, so overhead drones could broadcast the proceedings with ease.
A carpeted walkway led from my current room, through a chamber with various other people of importance, then out to the balcony where the Primarch stood. My mother and father were off to the side of the balcony - neither of them willing to get close to the Primarch looming large at the edge of it all.
A small screen in the corner of my preparation room displayed a live feed of the outdoor area where our vows would take place. At this time I could see him standing patiently; I hadn’t noticed his arrival.His hands were clasped not behind him like I would expect a soldier to stand, but in front of him. Golden hair glinted in the light as he scanned my people as they amassed in the streets and buildings below. Even with his head somewhat lowered he was a colossus - all of the decor around him looked miniature and warped in his shadow.
Nearest to the Lord was one of his priests who was silently flipping through a tome. No men stood behind the Primarch, just like no women would stand beside me. I had desperately wanted my oldest sister to be the one to oversee the proceedings, but I guess our own planetary traditions were overruled by Imperial standard ones.
All of the people who could've -should have- been beside me were now huddled just outside my door and would instead watch the vows on different screens. As the day drew onwards, the hum of different conversations drew to a loud droning sound.
My minutes were running short. I tried to be thankful for the few left still. The Primarch likely did not enjoy standing around, which was exactly what the monitor showed him doing.
I wonder how he felt.
I likely would never know.
I certainly felt like an imposter. My military and political careers were too short and overwhelmingly mundane to match the otherworldly standards the Imperium likely would transfer from their favorite son to his soon-to-be wife.
The door opened and my brother gave me a sharp nod. It was time.
The masses parted and arranged themselves into their predetermined rows.
I took my first step, then another.
My husband had turned to face me, in the sides of my vision I could see his shoulders twist. I wasn’t looking at him. Instead I was looking beyond, to where my people were also facing me.
<><><>
When I had been stationed in the military, I knew that I would not see battle. It did not make me feel better. Instead I could only feel overwhelming guilt when I watched our unit hemorrhage talented minds to a weak front line two systems away where they were nothing more than meat shields meant to inflate troop numbers.
I knew that I never wanted to hold that type of power over another' s life in my hands in such a manner ever again.
But day after day, I went into the bright and cushioned office and chose where different units would be deployed - all while a supervisor grilled my rationale.
When my rotation ended and instead I was able to be on a more specialized and small unit, I thought things would be better and I wouldn’t have to start every day feeling like a coward and fraud.
At one point during my second rotation we were seven planets away on a world that was only active for strip mining purposes. I had been granted the luxury to go on a small exploratory expedition with two more experienced soldiers into one of the depleted mining sites. By that point, my main focus had been on recycling war materials and repairing old equipment so as to not deplete our own planetary resources.
One day, we entered a mine that looked like a looming, open mouth with metal support beams playing the roles of jagged teeth. Walking through it took the most amount of courage I ever had to use in my life. My comrades were not particularly impressed by my bravery and continued behind me in silence as I fought my own internal battles to push inwards.
We were supposed to stay on the main level and scan for any equipment that could be salvaged.
With nothing on the main floor, it was me, with all my new bravery, who pushed for us to go lower - where the equipment was more likely to be used.
The soldiers, while above my years in experience, were not above my own honorary rank.
So they agreed.
And they, like me, hesitantly went into the creaking elevators and ventured deeper.
We found the equipment approximately four more levels down, and, ever caught up in creating my own path in life, pushed for the three of us to remove it.
I remember using a simple crowbar and straining against it to un-hitch the small communication box off the wall from where it had been drilled in. I remember, for some reason, being so determined to fight the earth itself to give me what I wanted.
And when the box came off the wall and the large screw that was underneath it cracked… the rest of the wall along the hallway fractured with it.
The world shifted around us as if we were on a tectonic plate. The wall that had been pointing directly upwards groaned as it tilted inwards - narrowing the small passageway we had been inhabiting.
I remember being so frightened because of the narrow and the all encompassing groaning of the mine shaft. I remember trying to pray to whatever gods were closest to hear me for a chance to survive.
I remember dreading each footstep towards the elevator as we made a hurried retreat, unknowing if it was going to work or not.
The footsteps I was taking towards my new future now felt worse.
<><><>
I must've made it to the altar at some point. Rationale would say that I did.
I very vividly remember the feeling of his pressure making my ears pop and my knees ache while I stood before him. At one point, I remembered that I was staring at a piece of matching ultramarine blue cloth that was a part of my husbands’ decor, laying over his hips.
Because that is where my eye level was in relation to him - his hips.
I remember, now vaguely, trying not to breathe because I thought if I exhaled I didn't know if my ribs would be able to expand outwards again against the crushing force of his mere being.
At one point we locked eyes and mine burned. Not from tears - but because it felt like staring at the sun for too long.
At one point my hands made a pathetic attempt to grasp around his as part of the ceremony.
Were my hands soaked and tepid with sweat? Were they colder than ice from anxiety? Were they burning alive akin to how I felt on fire from the body heat radiating off the inhuman creature in front of me?
That, I don't remember so well either.
I didn't truly come back to any meaningful form of situational awareness until it was nighttime and I was sitting at the edge of a too-large, too-tall bed.
The first thing I felt as reality set back into place were pins digging into my hair. They hurt something fierce. Is this what Angron felt? Hair pins driving him to rage? The thought made me smile for a moment. In a moment of panic, I glanced around the room to see if anyone saw my temporary erraticism.
Nobody was in the massive, titan-proportioned, bedchamber.
Should I take them out? Or is it my husband's duty to undress me?
I was alone for a long time before I allowed myself the small act of rebellion of removing two pins from my hair. There were still multitudes hidden in the starched tresses, I was sure.
How did I even get here?
I was more than likely in Lord Guilliman's own chambers. Before this, I had been standing somewhat beside him for, what? Hours? As different nobility I didn't even recognize approached us.
No, not us, him.
I don't think I spoke the whole party.
What a sad party.
And I likely was a horrific example of a diplomat and probably an even worse example for a wife.
Why the fuck did we marry again?
And then…?
Oh yes, an Ultramarine that had been lingering the whole night simply guided me away from my husband after yet another random couple approached us. My feet hurt at that time and I could feel myself becoming less subtle as I shifted weight side to side for some temporary relief.
My husband must have thought I was completely overcome with alcohol and swaying like a drunk.
I gently rubbed my temples - trying not to smear makeup around. Fuck I was a mess.
I figured I was also expected to consummate my marriage tonight. Which was another extremely awkward thought within itself.
How even was that supposed to work? Anatomically?
I wasn't a prude by any means. I was a virgin because of my station but that didn't mean there were other fun ways to experiment. I wasn’t worried about the fact that it was going to be an unpleasant experience for myself, given the reality of things. That was never something that both of my older sisters hid from me when they visited.
It will hurt. You'll survive. One shrugged casually. Her husband was the same height as her.
He'll probably stop fucking you once youre good and pregnant. Said the other.
They enjoyed those discussions, in a twisted way. I think they took comfort in knowing that their own horrors were not being experienced in isolation.
Could I even become pregnant by a Primarch? Wasn't another purpose of a marriage to be a heir? None of the astartes ever had children that I was aware of.
The primarch was likely nowhere near to death. Maybe he didn’t need one?
My brothers and sisters all had children, and, being the youngest, my own would never be in succession to the throne. So I wasn’t under particularly heavy pressure from my own family to have any.
So maybe it wasn't going to be an issue.
A sharp knock at the door.
I dropped down to a stand as the door swung open - whoever knocked did not wait for me to call to enter.
An Ultramarine swung the door open and three very, very tall women walked in. One was carrying food. The other was carrying a towel and a basket. One simply looked me up and down and motioned towards a door on the opposite side of the room. I followed them as a door to a bathing room opened up before me.
It was sparse, given the obvious luxury of the room it was attached to. No tub, but instead a shower built for the Primarch with multiple water jets positioned throughout. In a small corner shelf was standard issue body and hair wash. A large mirror took up one wall so you had to watch yourself stand and bathe.
The shower itself had a bench in it, but it was proportioned so that I would've had to hop up and drag myself partially onto it in order to sit. Given that I was about to be naked in front of strangers for yet another time today, I couldn't risk the dignity of attempting such a maneuver.
On cue, I was being stripped. Tight laces were unstuck from where they indented my skin, pins were being pulled out of my hair - each one feeling more relieving than the last. The shower turned on and I was guided into it. The water felt divine.
I was handed my own cloth to scrub my face. I watched in the mirror as my physical flaws became more and more visible. As my skin turned more pallid as the glowy makeup wiped away. A small scar on my temple turned pink under the wash.
None of the ladies spoke, so I forced myself to start, “Is Lord Guilliman joining me tonight?”
The one who was detangling my hair from its cemented state responded, “I believe the Lord plans on speaking to his new political allies for most of the night. Your marriage party is still taking place over most of the city.”
And I left?
Also… I was on a ship. I do not remember taking a sky elevator to the obvious spacecraft I was currently on. What the fuck was I doing the past few hours? Did I say anything stupid?
It was a horror and a relief. “I see.” I brushed some water from my eyes. Black smudges came away on my hands.
The one woman who wasn't actively helping me bathe looked down, “The Lord had planned for you to rest tonight and in the morning, when you wake naturally, we will give you a tour of the ship and a general daily itinerary.”
An itinerary, I mouthed to myself.
Apparently I wasn't subtle, because the woman speaking smirked. “A general ship itinerary and guide - with a map and list of resources. We are, after all, essentially a floating metropolis.” Her hand gestured vaguely to the ship surrounding us, “You, of course, are free to do mainly as you wish should you have other plans.”
I nodded and gathered my withs again. “I- uh, I apologize. I never got your names.”
“I am Roake. That is Shan and San.” She gestured to the woman washing my hair and the other who had moved on to vaguely measuring my body proportions for clothing.
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “thank you all for helping me today. I likely can bathe and clothe myself in the future.”
Roake gave a sharp laugh, “Of course, Lord Guilliman will expect you to be more or less independent. We are simply here to make sure you are comfortable to start.”
Independent? OK I could do that. The youngest of five meant that my parents and all of their previous tutors had long since lost their energy raising my siblings. They taught me lessons efficiently and sent me on my way.
I nodded, “Another question… why are you two in the shower with me?”
Measuring proportions in the shower really wasn't practical.
Shan… San? Laughed. “I like the warmth!” She leaned in and smirked, “Besides, who isn't a little curious what the Primarchs shower is like?”
I found myself giggling despite my exhaustion.
“Anndddd,” Shan drew out, “who else can say they showered with a primarch's wife?” Nobody else, apparently.
The water shut off and I was wrapped in a warm robe.
“I think that is enough for today, ladies.” Roake stated. She turned to me, “We will see you in the morning. Feel free to sleep in. There will be a guard at your door at all times. Just speak to them when you are ready to get your day started.”
Shan handed me a gown, and I happily dressed myself. It was long and… very modest.
I swished it around my feet. “His Lord must not enjoy bare ankles.”
Roake even cracked a smile at that as the four of us exited the bathroom. “We will see you tomorrow, my Lady.” She, and the two others, gave a small bow before leaving and l was alone again.
<><><>
At one point during the night, I had given up trying to sleep on the bed and instead grabbed a blanket from a chaise and curled up on the floor next to part of the floor-to-ceiling windows that made one side of the room.
When I awoke it was terribly bright out. At least midday. In a fit of embarrassment I almost lost a battle to the blanket wrapped around me while attempting to stand up.
Roake has left some day clothes at the foot of the bed before she left. I changed quickly and took an extra moment to make the room look as if I was never in it - stashing my overnight dress in the corner of an empty wardrobe where half the drawers were too high for me to even utilize.
I flung the door open to find a Space Marine already turning to look at me. He dipped his head, “My Lady, I was instructed to take to Shan once you were ready. Unless you need more time?”
I nodded, “I slept too much already. I promise, this- this isn't a normal habit of mine.”
The soldiers turned slowly, “Of course my Lady. I told the others that you likely didn't sleep well given that your heart rate didn't decrease to a resting state until the early morning.”
How exactly do you respond to that statement? “Well thank you for that… What is your name?”
“Tarrek, my Lady. And it is my honor to serve you.”
He must have been walking purposefully slow so I could look around as we ventured through hallway after hallway, “Ah, you do not need to be formal for me - titles aren’t necessarily common to use in my culture.”
“My Lady… my father commands it.”
Makes sense. My actions reflect his own station. To be casual to me would be dismissing Guilliman's station.
“Of course.” I tried to walk quicker so the long-legged soldier was at a more natural pace, “I likely will not need any personnel for myself once I get into the flow of things. So you'll be able to return to your previous post soon, I believe.”
The soldiers remained trudging onwards, “It is possible, my Lady.” Even though his helmet masked his inflection, I had the feeling that he was doubtful of the prospect.
Tarrek continued to trundle along at my pace for a few more minutes in silence. Eventually, we stopped at the middle of a massive intersection with crossroads leading every which direction. It really was a floating city - even the war vessels I had been stationed in weren’t nearly as large.
San and Shan were waiting in the middle of it all, completely oblivious to the marching astartes moving around them.
They both bowed in sync, “My Lady, we are glad you were able to get some extra sleep in.”
I nodded, “Thank you for waiting.”
San motioned her hand, “We are standing at what is considered the center of the ship, third level. Directly below us are living quarters for the majority of the population and then below that is storage and industrial proceedings. All you need on this ship is on this floor. We will start today by touring the starboard wing.” Guilliman’s quarters must have been on the opposite side of the ship if he had windows.
We all started walking, Tarrek stayed a polite distance behind us the whole time.
The ship itself was built with gray-metallic industrial walls that met at harsh angles and decorated with a mish-mash of wall art thrown up along every single corridor, only broken up by signage pointing this way and that. Some areas even had plants with water systems that sprayed over them. At one point during the day, I thought I saw some bright avian creatures flitting between a mini isolated garden. Denizens of the Imperium from all walks of life milled about.
I was so odd compared to the sprawling steel towers of my own planet.
Eventually, our conversations turned less about the scenery and more general.
“Yeah… he mentioned hearing my heartbeat as I tried to sleep last night.” I mentioned offhand.
They both giggled and gave quick glances over at the completely expressionless and fully armored astartes. “Just assume that all the non-humans on board can hear and smell everything in their general vicinity and act accordingly.”
I purposefully kept my eyes ahead of me as we passed yet another set of branching corridors. “So last night when I mentioned the ankles…”
Shan laughed, “Oh, he heard. Just like he hears us now. But I like to think most astartes have a good sense of humor despite not being able to show it while in those metal suits.” She twirled around and blew a kiss at Tarrek
The day came to an end too quickly. Likely because I slept in.
Tarrek gently interrupted us as we chatted in one of the many large cafeterias scattered throughout the ship, “My Lady, you will be expected to have dinner with Lord Guilliman soon.”
I was currently trying a unique, herbal, pastry.
I looked up at Shan and San in support. They giggled, “We can help you get ready if you'd like.”
Independent. The word rang in my head. “No, I will be alright.” I wish I hadn’t just ate.
They both nodded, “Meet us back at the center pathway tomorrow mid-morning. We can continue some of the tour. You haven't even seen the best parts of the ship.” San smiled.
I tried to remember some of the pathways we traveled as Tarrek led me back to the room to prepare.
“Are you well, my Lady?” He interrupted my thoughts.
“Yes?” I was ok, wasn't I?
“You were breathing quickly. I can walk slower, if you wish.” His booted feet were practically scuffing the floor with how haltingly he was moving already.
I felt myself flush, “Ah, no, thank you. I was just thinking about what the Lord and I may discuss tonight.”
He remained walking onwards. “And that causes you distress, my Lady?”
It felt like a bit of an intrusion on his end. “I don't know what we have in common.”
He was silent for a moment. “You two were able to speak most of the wedding without difficulty.”
I nearly stumbled. “Pardon?”
His visor turned towards me slightly, “You two were able to speak most of the wedding without difficulty.”
“What?”
I could've sworn he sighed, “You two were able to-”
I nodded. “To be candid with you Tarrek, I do not remember most of the wedding.”
He turned to look forwards and hummed in response. “You were in a large amount of distress then too.” Goddamn Ultramarine senses, “That isn't to say that you did not engage well with the guests,” he continued, “just that your discomfort was noticeable to the Lord.”
I was going to faint.
“Did I say something wrong, my Lady?” Tarrek paused his steps completely this time. I almost walked face first into his armor. We were in a smaller, empty hall.
“Ah, I’m just processing the fact that I made a fool of myself last night, more than likely. Nonetheless, I will survive.” The walls in this hallway were bare. I used it to my advantage and leaned on one of them.
“My Lady, I likely misspoke. You and the Lord were quite charming together. I was merely stating my observation as your guard for the evening.”
I nodded. I wasn't in any mood to figure out what I may have said or done during the fever dream that was last night.
“Lets just see if I can survive this day by day, yeah?”
He started walking again. “I fail to see why you wouldn't survive… are you sure you are well?”
I felt sick to my stomach and decidedly not hungry.
However I, too, trudged onwards.
<><><>
A new table was set for two, stationed next to the large windows in Guilliman's chambers. It was the first thing I noticed when Tarrek knocked and swung the door open.
The second thing was the Primarch himself standing next to it, hands clasped in front of him in a similar fashion to the previous night.
A part of me had hoped that his presence would feel easier to withstand today. My optimism was destroyed when he turned his gaze upon mine. I immediately felt as though it took all my mental fortitude to stop my bones from turning to dust and drifting up into the air ducts when our eyes met. It was an instant migraine.
He smiled. I think. Some of his teeth were too sharp and too white to feel anything like a human gesture of peace. “My wife. I am glad to see that you are able to tour the ship.”
How to describe it? His voice was more akin to the feeling of impending doom than the actual sensation of noise. It sank deep on your bones..
I gave a small curtsey - I was wearing linen pants that were my standard clothing from home. It probably looked stupid.
“Lord Guilliman. Thank you for taking the time to spend time with me this evening.” I forced myself to approach the set up table. He was likely waiting for me to sit down so he could as well.
I made my way across the room quickly, “You'll have to tell me about your day.” I think at some point I was able to flash a smile in return.
Reaching the table, the towering form of my husband stepped closer, reaching around me to pull out the tall chair. I paused for a moment, considering its height.
The oversized furniture felt perpetually demeaning, although I would never say it.
A hand was stuck in front of me, suddenly. “Allow me to assist you.”
I hoped I wasn't blushing too hard as I placed my hand in his and hopped up to the chair. “Thank you, my Lord.” Even as my own hand moved out of his, I felt the unnatural lingering heat remain where we had touched.
Once on the chair, I had to sit on my shins and partially kneel so enough of my torso could clear the table. The primarch's eyes shifted to my position and frowned.
“We can find another place to eat.” The ridges between his eyes would've been endearing if he weren't learning closer and closer to my personal space.
I tried not to sound intimidated or annoyed when I flashed a practiced smile - the physical discomfort was grounding in this very moment, “I am just happy to have dinner with you, my Lord. We can fix this another night. For now, let's just eat.”
I could feel the bread from just half an hour ago rotting in my stomach.
The leviathan form in front of me reluctantly sat down, letting himself drop into the chair with less grace than someone of his divinity and station. The chair itself made an unsettling noise in response. Neither of us were meant for this furniture, it would seem. His eyes, once again, were turned to look out of the window. I was immensely thankful for the opportunity to mimic his own actions and turn my face away from his constant brightness.
Eventually food arrived and we both ate in somewhat comfortable silence. At some point, though, the burning of my thighs and the need to shift positions. The miniscule movement seemed to pull Lord Guilliman from his thoughts. I was more than happy to have him stare out the windows and remain mute otherwise.
“I apologize for my lack of conversation. Today must have been more fatiguing than I thought.” He remained facing the window as he spoke.
I sipped some water and tried to study his profile. It was hard to look at - it was too immense. By the time my eyes roamed from his hairline to his chin, I had already forgotten what his nose looked like. “Well, I am more than happy to be your scapegoat as your wife… should you need a moment's respite.”
He glanced up at me for a moment. Again I was aware of the scalding heat that literally came off his person. I shifted yet again, my shins were getting sensitive. He frowned for a second time that night. “Why would I ever do that?”
I shrugged and looked at my plate. “I was just implying that if you needed an excuse to take a small break in your duties during the day, you are more than welcome to say it is on my behalf.” It sounded terrible as I spoke it. Even as his wife, a Primarch couldn't be pulled from his duties easily.
I mashed some random vegetable with my fork. “It was mainly a joke.” The quiet remained. “You really wouldn't even have to be near me really.”
I turned my head to look outside again. It really wasn't that interesting. The atmosphere we were sitting in, above my home planet, was mainly brown and constantly swirling from our current view.
“I appreciate the sentiment, little wife.” He spoke finally.
When I shifted my weight again, my knee popped loudly and I almost fucking laughed at the absurdity of the situation. Gods above and below and everywhere in between, I didn't want this.
I decided to broach the subject that ideally would have been communicated to me during our marriage contract- I doubted I could be any less comfortable, “Just- just tell me what you want from me as your wife and I'll do my best to uphold it.”
Ignoring all social graces, I placed my elbows on the table and placed my head in my hands: anything to take the pressure off my knees. The general apprehension and unease I was feeling was starting to make me physically nauseous as well.
I could feel his heat increase as he moved closer - his hand encompassing my cheek and the side of my head as he pulled it gently upwards so we made eye contact again. This intimacy felt too quick, too forced. I know it was an attempt at kindness. I couldn’t help but feel it as an affront.
“Let's just start with dinner. Every few nights.” He proposed.
I swallowed. He smiled again. It still looked threatening, objectively, but it wasn't less anxiety inducing. A somewhat feral look remained in his eyes, but perhaps that was just the nature of a demigod to always seem somewhat beyond mere mortal understanding. Maybe I was just being paranoid because his hand could crush my skull at any moment. “And I'll make sure you are comfortable next time.”
I nodded. I could start with that.
<><><>
It slowly got easier. But somehow worse.
The anxiety faded into awe of my husband.
The terror changed to something between whimsical and volatile in equal parts. My emotions were perpetually in flux and my own thoughts were never consistent. Perhaps being around a Primarch too much was legitimately damaging to the humans around him?
I found myself being able to look more readily upon him. I could allow myself to feel more embraced by his aura and less oppressed.
We only spent dinners together. Although at one point I was permitted to just call him “Roboute”, per his request.
At one point I made him laugh. Or smile less harshly. I don't know if I was funny or he was humoring me.
We still hadn't spent a night together. In fact, I wasn't certain if the Primarch was in his chambers besides our dinners.
At one point I had begun taking up odd tasks on the ship. With no real direction or demands from my husband, I was left to forge my own path on the ship. Nobody ever looked my way as I meandered the halls. Part of me wondered if anybody even knew that I was married.
It felt good to work. Roake didn't hesitate to offer me multitudes of opportunities. I found myself taking on mindless clerical roles. Organizing spaces here, sorting through old logs other days. Nothing that would require use of my supposed station.Nothing political. Nothing that had to do with the Imperium and its perpetual war. In some ways, it was nice.
Tarrek was likely bored. I tried to dismiss him multiple times from his role as my guard, but each time he denied the opportunity. “Lord Guilliman's orders.” He did, however, wander off for a few hours every couple of days when I was in my impromptu office: some small and dusty room I found at the end of an abandoned hallway. After a week of working there, two Ultramarines were posted outside of the long corridor leading to my little hideaway. They never directly hovered like Tarrek was prone to do, but close enough that Tarrek apparently felt confident enough in my safety that he could slip away for a few hours when I was busy with paperwork.
Weeks passed. Dinners passed with more laughter and less awkwardness each time. Sometimes, Guilliman lingered and I had to stop myself from thinking anything more of it. He was taking me up on my previous word about respite, perhaps. I tried to use my limited time with my husband to get to know him outside of his role as Primarch. I made it a personal goal that our small moments together would not be anything related to his work. I found myself actively trying to establish a better understanding of my husband. Despite my efforts, he remained almost impossible to comprehend. His lifetime was multitudes longer than mine would ever be, his mind thought differently than my own and sometimes I think he thought of me as more amusing than anything particularly noteworthy. Regardless, he was a puzzle I was becoming increasingly obsessed with piecing together.
<><><>
It was another unspectacular day when I found myself repeatedly distracted by the collar of my shirt. I was attempting to transcribe some old printed logs to an electronic version that could be more easily accessed by the library. Every three pages I processed, I had to itch at the back of my neck. It was infuriating.
After a few minutes I simply set my work aside and decided to take a walk and change clothing.
When I opened the door to my office, Tarrek was nowhere in sight. It wasn’t unusual nowadays. The two guards at the end of the hall said nothing to me as I passed. Neither moved to follow me either, which was surprising considering I was never alone.
I strolled through the ship, lost in my own thoughts as I navigated towards Guilliman’s private wing. Eventually I found the large, primarch-sized door that opened to Guilliman's room.
Strange. No guard there today.
Even when the room was empty, an astartes usually stood in front of the door to make sure none trespassed.
I realized I had never opened the door myself. I expected the expensive and rare wood paneling to be heavy as I pushed it inwards, but it swung open easily.
I glanced at the hinges for a moment before stepping inside.
On the bed was a shirtless Roboute Guilliman; on his forearms and knees, curled inwards on himself.
I almost spoke out in concern, he looked hunched over as if in pain, but the unnatural glow along his shoulders and upper back quite literally took my breath away. I remained silent for an extra moment while my mind reeled.
Damn he was gorgeous.
And he was moving. Slightly.
His hips were shifting.
It was enough movement to draw my attention along the side of his masterfully sculpted torso towards his equally as naked and no less perfect thighs.
They were, as I already knew, massive. Each one was at least the diameter of my own waistline. When he wore his more casual togas during dinners, it took all my willpower to look away from them as he occasionally paced about the room, lost in a long rant.
The current view was by far the most erotic than anything I had seen of them to date.
I almost shivered from the head rush. There were bumps forming on my arms from the sight alone. How pathetic.
The room was suddenly scorching hot.
It took a moment to realize it wasn't just my own wicked thoughts causing me to feel flushed.
No.
In front of me was the body of Roboute Guilliman in all of his naked glory.
And another, significantly smaller body. Hard to see because she was surrounded by the vast musculature of my husband.
My husband who, I now realized, was without a doubt fucking another woman. He had yet to notice me.
I thought the astartes and primarchs alike had far superior hearing. Surely he would have heard me open the door and step in?
The door behind me was still wide open. It hadn't swung shut. It was because my hand was stuck in place, holding it. Surely the sound of it slamming would shatter this current scene in front of me?
I couldn't move quite yet.
It was horrible to see. I could feel my heart cramping in my chest. It was painful to watch, and yet I couldn't tear my eyes away.
I remained stuck in place, watching like a pervert, as my husband's triceps strained down into a groaning bedframe and his hips stuttered minutely against the other figure below him. Barely really moving at all. Grinding into their flesh as deep as he could likely go.
He was breathing heavily. Far heavier than I've ever seen any of the unearthly creatures on this ship breathe. His ribs flared out laterally with each great inhale almost as if they would burst out of his skin like ragged wings.
His pants were filthy and desperate. My eyes were drawn back towards the golden Primarch’s lower abdomen where he was pressed against the whore’s low back. I could hear the suction from the sweat as his navel pressed against her before pulling apart again.
Even still I could hear the moans of the human bitch underneath him and the unmistakable squelching of a cock being dragged in and out of a wet hole.
Vaguely, I felt surprised that the muscular behemoths’ ass jiggled with the occasional less reverent and significantly more forceful thrust.
Multiple seconds likely passed, or at least enough time to have multiple consecutive thoughts. Once the voyeuristic wave of arousal receded slightly, I was hit with a hysterical thought: it definitely seems possible, anatomically. Then, and arguably the worst thought of all:
“I'm being fucking cheated on.” Stupid, stupid girl.
I said it aloud.
Guilliman's eyes snapped up to meet mine and he pushed his great chest up, sitting back on his heels and towering over the definitely baseline woman under him. She shrieked at the sudden change of position. It was a piercing and awful sound. I didn’t bother looking at his expression. I was still taking it all in.
He was now shamelessly holding her lower body in the air with both hands and still actively pushing her down on his cock like she was a toy; an odd shadow of distension now visible along the side of the woman's lower stomach. Her upper remained slumped forwards as she supported herself on his thighs. The woman looked soaked… her hair matted down, literal beads of sweat coming out of her skin even as breeze from the vents now hit it… drips of semen dripping down from her breasts and thighs.
She moaned and wiggled his hips in his grasp and I could see her abdomen move where his cock twitched in response.
He must have wanted to still be there, buried balls deep in his paramour, since he was a demigod who definitely had ample time to fling himself out of bed as even more seconds passed in silence.
I instead was the first to move… by damn near backflipping through the open doorway with how quick I threw myself out of the room, slamming the door behind me.
And then, as all my normal childhood training set in and my cool, calm, and collected demeanor returned to me, I decided to ignore it… and I ran out of that goddamn section of the ship as fast as I could.
