ALL OF PRINCE OF CROWS IT'S "Konrad's fight w THE LION" "yeah LION really fucked the primarch up" BITCH KONRAD HAD HIM DOWN - it was CORSWAIN - PALADIN OF THE NINTH ORDER, BEARER OF THE MANTLE OF THE CHAMPION THAT GOT KONRAD
Today we’re getting primarch marriage AU a la Shakespeare comedy, with five First Captains having their own agendas, along with a young noblewoman with her own plans.
For the hundredth time that evening Abaddon was complaining to his fellow First Captains about what a waste of time this whole circus was.
The Great Crusade needed their attention. Not this wild idea the Emperor had about getting his sons married off.
By this point, First Captain Sevatar of the Night Lords wasn’t really listening. Looking across the lavish ballroom at his Primarch. Curze looked highly uncomfortable, dressed up in his best finery as he was. Surrounded by Custodes in case he tried to sneak off. Surprisingly a few ladies had tried to approach him, even after he started prophesying their deaths. If anything that made them swarm him even more.
First Captain Sigismund of the Imperial Fists was looking at Sevatar. Wondering what drew his attention to the Night Lord. He kept studying the man’s face. With his permanent sneer, Jago Sevatarion should be revolting. Yet Sigismund found himself thinking that Sevatar’s face was striking. Sharp features, high cheekbones and an aristocratic narrow face.
Meanwhile Primarch Rogal Dorn was holding forth about the architecture to several ladies, who were trying their best to look interested.
Corswain of the Dark Angels was standing next to Sevatar. Seemingly practicing his Nostraman. Sigismund found himself wondering if he should learn Nostraman. Trying to tamp down the burning feeling in his chest. It definitely wasn’t jealousy, he told himself.
Primarch Lion el’Johnson, being the image of a perfect, noble knight out of legend, was surrounded by young women. Though he looked uncomfortable, like he would rather be anywhere else.
Khârn of the World Eaters was half listening to Abaddon, more focused on his dear Lotara Sarrin.
Nobody dared approach Primarch Angron, who looked like he would tear apart anyone who came near. Silently cursing this whole farce. He had no use for a wife. Especially one who might not have a choice about who her husband would be. High Riders. Scum, the lot of them. He bared his teeth at the Custodes guarding him.
Horus Lupercal, on the other hand, seemed to be in his element, surrounded by baselines, laughing and talking.
Then,just as Abaddon was winding up for more ranting, she was there. Standing among them like they were not Astartes, the definition of intimidating.
Dressed remarkably simply, if elegantly. Most of these people looked like they were trying to outshine the Primarchs.
Looking past Sevatar, Sigismund idly noted that her dress even had pockets. Very practical. Sensible. Likewise he approved of her footwear. Looked like sensible shoes for an evening mostly spent on your feet.
She looked at them fearlessly, baselines usually couldn’t really look Astartes in the eyes. But she seemed completely unruffled.
“May I have a moment of your time, Captain Sarrin, Lord Angels?” Her voice was low, sibilant and sweet.
Khârn snorted. “We’re not putting in a word with the Primarchs to get them to pick you.”
Lotara smacked Khârn’s arm lightly. “Let the lady talk, dear.” Looking very pleased to be acknowledged.
The girl smiled wryly, which made her face look remarkably similar to Sevatar’s, if you ignored the coloring. The cheekbones especially.
“Quite the contrary. My Lord Father signed me up for Lord Angron. I was hoping you could be convinced to lose the application.”
“That’s the most sensible thing I have heard all day.” Khârn shared a chuckle with his fellow Captains.
Of course Abaddon had to open his mouth. “Then why sign up if you didn’t wish it?”
She gave him a frosty look, as cold as an Inwit winter night.
“Why would my opinion be wanted, let alone sought? Unthinkable.”
Lotara grinned. “That’s why I joined the Navy.”
Khârn found himself nodding in agreement. This tiny thing definitely knew how things worked.
Sigismund found himself wondering if he should suggest her to Lord Dorn. Blunt, sensible and pragmatic. She might do well on Inwit. Fairly easy on the eyes, too. No, of course that had nothing to do with her resemblance to Sevatar. Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.
Sevatar actually grinned. Ooh, what a treat. A person with common sense. On Terra of all places. He might keep an eye on her. This ball just got much less boring.
Corswain on the other hand gave her a dirty look. Not that she was wrong, but you don’t say that out loud.
Undaunted, Abaddon glared down at the redhead. “Poor little rich girl. It is good that you accept your chances are nil. Lord Horus would never look in your direction.”
Sevatar interrupted with a smirk. “Why not? It’s not as if you can marry your Primarch yourself.”
Even Corswain choked on his mouthful of wine at that.
Abaddon’s face turned bright red. “You degenerate…” he began, only for Khârn to put a hand heavily on his shoulder. “Shut up, Ezekyle. Don’t make me let Lotara loose on you.“
Biting her lip to keep from laughing out loud, the girl nodded at them all in turn. “I will not take up more of your time. Lady Sarrin, gentlemen.”
As she left, she addressed Sevatar, in fluent Nostraman. Her accent was much better than Corswain’s.
“I apologize for the insult, First Captain. I am well aware you are not a gentleman.” With that she left in a swirl of skirts. Headed towards Lord Horus.
Sevatar laughed so hard at her words he couldn’t even speak. Oh my, that girl had balls.
Corswain frowned as he translated for the others. “That was very rude.”
Sevatar shook his head, finally getting the words out. “She is entirely correct. To a Nostraman, being called a gentleman is a grave insult.”
The look he gave the strange noblewoman made Sigismund vow to himself that he would see her married off. To Lord Dorn, Lord Horus, anyone who had as little to do with the Eighth Legion as possible.
Horus looked down at the young woman who had just approached him. “Hello there. Can I help you, sweetheart?” Roboute would be envious if he could snag this pretty little thing. That red hair would be very prized on Macragge.
“Lord Horus, I think your First Captain is trying to sabotage your chances. He was abominably rude.”
Horus paled as she related Abaddon’s words. No, no, no! Seeing this innocent young lady look so distressed made his stomach sink. What was wrong with Ezekyle?
“Sweetheart, thank you for bringing this to my attention. I will have words with him. He does not speak for me.” His voice as comforting as he could manage. “Don’t worry your pretty head, I will be right back.” Barely pausing to kiss her hand.
Sevatar, who had been following out of curiosity, chuckled, impressed. Damn, she had played the Primarch like a fiddle. Who was she?
She looked up at him, expression calm once more as she stepped away from Horus’ fan club. No doubt wishing to avoid being ripped apart.
“Bravo. I shall watch you with great interest.” He said in Nostraman. She smiled back, eyes sparkling. Unbothered by being stared at by the infamous Jago Sevatarion.
“May I have your name, little sparrow?” He continued.
She grinned, a very Nostraman toothy smile. “Lady Jeanne de Vermandois. And you need no introduction, First Captain Jago Sevatarion.”
Good thing Sigismund had gone to speak to Lord Dorn, if he had heard that he might have been plotting murder.
Meanwhile Abaddon was trying to defend himself as Horus was expressing his disappointment. “Don’t ruin my chances, son. What were you thinking? I cannot let my brothers show me up. Finding a wife is the entire point.”
With a smirk, Lotara interrupted. “You might want to hurry, Sigismund has already gone to recommend the lady to Lord Dorn.” Horus’ eyes widened. The look of panic was priceless, making Khârn snicker and Corswain wander off to find more wine.
A collection of DA art I have yet to post, including my headcannon for the childhood of Astelan and Corswain, along with the pinup art of Alajos for no better reason.
