I liked the idea of having a lil moment for my Psyker Rogue Trader who is used to abuse and less than ideal treatment and lodging suddenly having to get accustomed to being treated MORE than decently and being given amenities she isn’t used to. like a whole suite to live in herself and nice clothing that is soft and comfortable.
my dear aeomar deserves the world… and all the velvety robes she has room for.
She sits beneath one of the wardstones, a whetstone passing rhythmically along the broken edge of the alien glaive. The weapon has been returned to her. Not because the Wolves trusted it. Because Russ wished to see whether it would react again. So far, it has remained silent.
The heavy locking mechanisms disengage. Upon looking up, she sees Russ entering alone again. He closes the reinforced door behind him, studying her for several long moments before speaking.
"How is your head?"
She gives him a small smile.
"You've asked me that every day."
"And every day the answer changes."
She considers that.
"...Quieter."
"The voices?"
She nods once.
"Distant."
Russ seems satisfied by that, though his expression betrays nothing. He crosses the room and rests one hand on the edge of the narrow table.
"There is something you need to know."
Her posture straightens. His tone is different. Not interrogating. Deliberate.
"I've spoken with my brother."
"The crimson giant."
"Magnus."
She lowers the whetstone.
"The psyker."
"He is."
She waits. Russ was never one to circle his point.
"As I’ve told you, he believes your condition can be treated. He believes the soul bound to yours can be separated. He has studied matters of the soul longer than any man I know. He still believes he can help."
"You said 'condition.'"
"I did."
"I thought you called it a curse."
"I did."
She frowns.
"Which is it?"
Russ is quiet for a moment before answering.
"I no longer think they're different."
She blinks. He continues.
"When I first found you beneath the ice, I believed you were a trap."
"I remember."
"I believed the thing inside you was the enemy."
"And now?"
Russ met her eyes.
"Now I believe the thing inside you is the wound."
Those words strike her harder than any accusation ever had. For several heartbeats she can only look at him.
"You think..." she whispers, "...that I can be healed?"
Russ didn’t answer immediately.
"I think," he says at last, "that whatever the Aeldari did to you wasn’t your choice."
She lowers her gaze.
"No."
"It was done to you."
Her throat tightens.
"Yes."
"And I will not condemn you for another's crime."
Silence settles over the room.
The fire crackles softly.
Finally, she speaks. "What would he do?"
Russ pulls the spare stool closer and sits opposite her.
"He would examine the binding himself."
"And then?"
"If he believes it possible..." Russ chooses his words carefully. "He will attempt to separate your soul from the one they forced upon you."
She looks unconsciously toward her own chest.
"As if pulling a thorn."
The Wolf King shakes his head.
"No."
His voice grows quieter.
"More like untangling two roots that have grown together beneath the earth."
She swallows.
"Would it hurt?"
"I expect so."
"Would I survive?"
"I don't know."
The honesty between them has become strangely familiar. She appreciates it more than false reassurance.
"And if it fails?"
Russ answers without hesitation.
"You may die."
She nods slowly.
"And if it succeeds?"
This time, Russ hesitates.
"I don’t know who will awaken."
Her eyes searches his.
"You've been told that already."
"I have."
She looks down at her hands.
"I've forgotten things."
He remains silent.
"My mother's voice. A song my father used to sing. The smell of our hall after the first snowfall."
She closes her eyes.
"They came back. But they are... harder to reach."
She opens them again.
"What if he removes whatever is inside me… and those memories go with it?"
Russ has asked himself the same question countless times since speaking with Magnus.
"I can’t answer."
Another silence.
"Our fleets will meet midway through the campaign."
She looks up.
"You've arranged it."
"I have."
"When?"
"Several weeks."
"So soon."
Russ nods.
"The Warp is strengthening whatever binds you together. The Rune Priest believes waiting will only make the separation harder."
She rises slowly from the bed and walks toward the small viewport. Beyond its armored shutters there are no stars to see, only the impossible colors of the Immaterium pressing against reality.
"So..." She speaks almost to herself. "I have several weeks to wonder whether I'll still be myself."
Russ stands as well.
"You have several weeks to decide."
She turns sharply.
"I decide?"
His expression is resolute.
"Magnus made one condition."
"And?"
"He won’t perform the procedure unless you consent."
She stares at him, genuinely surprised.
"You would leave that choice to me?"
"I would."
"What if I refuse?"
Russ walks until he stands beside her, both of them facing the armored viewport.
"Then we continue searching."
"For another answer."
She looks sideways at him.
"And if there isn't one?"
The Wolf King is silent for a long time. Finally, he answers.
"Then..." His voice is low, carrying the weight of both command and promise. "We face that road when we reach it."
She looks back toward the swirling Warp beyond the hull. For the first time since awakening beneath the ice, the future frightens her more than the past. Not because she fears dying, but because she feared surviving as someone else entirely.
The rendezvous comes in silence. Days pass aboard the strike cruiser, measured only by the changing watches, the distant growl of the engines, and the occasional tremor that rolls through the hull as the fleet cuts its way through the Immaterium. Word spreads among the Legion, though no formal announcement is ever made. The Wolf King has altered the campaign route. Questions follow naturally. None are answered.
She remains under constant watch. Not as a prisoner. Not as a guest. Something between the two. When she walks the corridors, two Grey Hunters accompany her. They speak little, but over the passing days their hands drift from the hilts of their weapons. She notices. She says nothing.
The broken glaive never leaves her side. It remains quiet. Even the Rune Priests admit, reluctantly, that whatever had stirred during the seizure has fallen dormant once more. That troubles them almost as much. The fleet tears free of the Warp in a blaze of argent light. Reality slams back into existence. Stars. Cold. Silent. Honest. The bridge comes alive.
"Void shields nominal."
"Gellar Field disengaging."
"Navigational bearings confirmed."
"Multiple contacts."
A hololithic projection blossoms above the command dais. Russ studies it without speaking. A dead system. One dying yellow star. Three barren worlds. No atmosphere. No life. Only drifting wreckage left from wars so old that even the Mechanicum couldn’t place their origin. Then, another signal.
"My lord," the vox-officer announces.
"Identification confirmed."
"The Fifteenth Legion has arrived."
The projection expands. A fleet emerges from behind the innermost world's darkened horizon. Unlike the angular brutality of the Space Wolves' vessels, these ships seem almost elegant despite their immense size. Their prows gleam with polished bronze and deep crimson, catching the light of the dying star. Bjorn folds his arms.
"I don't like this."
"No."
Russ's eyes remain fixed upon the largest vessel. Neither do I. The vox crackles.
"Hail from the flagship Photep."
"They request permission to establish communications."
Russ nods once.
"Open the channel."
Magnus appears as a towering crimson image above the bridge.
"My brother. Leman."
Magnus inclines his head respectfully.
"I am pleased to see you arrived intact."
"We're alive."
"I shall accept that as praise."
A few of Russ's officers exchange uncertain glances. Neither Primarch smiles. Magnus studies the bridge behind Russ.
"You brought fewer escorts than I expected."
"Restraint was asked for."
"Indeed it was."
Russ's gaze hardens.
"And you?"
"The same."
Magnus gestures behind himself. Only a handful of officers are visible.
"No hidden fleets. No ambush. No tricks."
Bjorn mutters beneath his breath.
"We'll be the judges of that."
Magnus hears him.
"I would expect nothing less from the son of Fenris."
Russ raises a hand before either can continue.
"We keep to the agreement."
"We do."
"Our ships remain separate."
"They shall."
"You come aboard my vessel. Alone."
Magnus nods.
"I have already dismissed my honor guard."
"And your Legion?"
"They remain aboard the Photep."
Russ watches his brother for several seconds. Searching. Magnus simply waits. Finally—
"You have permission to dock."
The transmission ends. An hour later, the docking alarms sound throughout the strike cruiser. One vessel. One passenger. Nothing more. Russ is already waiting inside the primary docking bay. Bjorn stands at his right. Three Rune Priests wait behind them, their staves planted against the deck, carved runes glowing faintly. Two full packs of Grey Hunters line the walls.
None are there to honor Magnus. Every one of them is there in case something goes wrong. Compressed air hisses. Massive blast doors separate. The boarding tube extends. A lone figure walks through the drifting vapor. Magnus wears no helmet. No weapons hang from his belt. Only a long crimson robe embroidered with gold thread beneath a simple cloak. He stops several paces from Russ. Neither brother speaks immediately.
"You've grown grayer."
Russ snorts.
"And you've grown taller."
"I already was."
"You'll forgive me if I don't measure."
For the briefest instant, Magnus chuckles. It vanishes almost immediately.
"I wish the circumstances were happier."
"They rarely are."
Magnus's eye moves across the assembled Wolves.
"So, you trust me enough to invite me aboard."
Bjorn answers before Russ can.
"No, we trust him enough to kill you if necessary."
Several Grey Hunters grin. Magnus inclines his head.
"A fair distinction."
Russ steps forward.
"We speak first."
Magnus nods.
"Of course."
Without another word, Russ leads him away from the docking bay. The strategium is empty save for the two brothers. Bjorn waits outside the sealed doors with the Rune Priests. Inside, only the low hum of the hololithic projectors breaks the silence. Russ remains standing. Magnus studies him.
"You haven't brought her."
"No."
"I assumed as much."
Russ circles the projection table slowly.
"I need answers before you lay a hand on her."
"You shall have them."
Magnus folds his hands behind his back.
"Ask."
Russ doesn't hesitate.
"If you discover the Aeldari soul cannot be separated..."
"I will stop."
"If separating them will kill her?"
"I will stop."
"If you find even the smallest sign that you're uncertain?"
"I will stop."
Russ studies him carefully.
"No pride?"
Magnus smiles faintly.
"Pride has buried enough civilizations."
The answer surprises Russ. He hides it well.
"There is more."
"I know."
Russ's voice lowers.
"When my Rune Priest searched her mind..."
Magnus waits.
"...they saw it."
"The other soul."
"They caught only a glimpse." Russ's expression darkens, "It looked back."
For the first time since boarding the ship, Magnus loses a measure of his composure.
"You saw its manifestation?"
"The Rune Priest. Myself. Bjorn."
Magnus's brow furrows deeply.
"That..."
He trails off.
"...is unusual."
"You've seen this before."
"I've seen possession. I've seen soul bindings. I've never seen a bound soul acknowledge outside observers."
The words settle heavily between them. Russ notices.
"That troubles you."
"It does."
"Why?"
Magnus walks slowly toward the viewport overlooking the dead world below.
"Because it suggests awareness."
Russ's jaw tightens.
"And?"
"And awareness means intention."
He turns back toward his brother.
"If what you witnessed is genuine then whatever the Aeldari placed inside her hasn’t merely survived. It has been watching."
Silence fills the chamber. Russ's hand unconsciously closes around the pommel of his sword.
"I almost killed her."
Magnus nods.
"I know."
"I may still have to."
Magnus meets his gaze steadily.
"Then before you make that decision allow me to determine whether you're looking at your Little Wolf or at the prison she's been forced to become."
For several long moments, neither Primarch speaks. Finally, Russ turns toward the sealed doors.
"You'll see her."
Magnus waits.
"But understand this."
Russ's voice becomes the growl of the Wolf King once more.
"If she so much as flinches because of something you do...I'll end this meeting."
Magnus inclines his head.
"I would expect nothing less."
Russ places one massive hand upon the door controls. Outside, he can already hear Bjorn's heavy footsteps approaching with the guarded Shield-Maiden. The moment of truth has finally arrived.
Firstly, I apologize for anyone waiting for updates on the initial fic. Not sure if I'll return to it. I hope this one makes up for it with its five chapters I've been working on for a while. Secondly, this fic is an alternate version of Joshua and Faye meeting and falling in love. Slow burn full of angsty goodness and while NSFW hasn't appeared yet some things have been implied at least. THIS IS NOT FOR KIDDIES! I know my blog is MDNI, but I'm still warning ya'll just in case I somehow miss ya.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
Hope you all enjoy what I've been working on! More to come in due time.
