Discover Top Posts Tagged with #the missing primarchs

AUs for my AU

'A Guide' AUs:

The Kidfic AUs:

Lone 40k Kid:

Robu reborn in his same timeline but in the past. Still in the 40k universe but as a kid still.

The idea is that Emps, with the Great Crusade coming to an end, decided that his kids needed something to keep them occupied. He noticed that most of his kids had both paired off with one another and truly loved their Geneseed Sons. So he made the 2nd Gen Primarchs. Children of the Primarchs with other Primarchs.

Did he talk this over with anyone? No. Did he keep the project hidden away to make sure there wasn't a Great scattering 2.0? Yes. Should he have told his sons before heresy? Also yes.

What happened to the 2nd Gen was something that was lost in the Siege of Terra.

Emps took it to his living tomb and the children were no more.

But!

Robu dies, killed by the High Lords of the Terra, goes through the Warp and ends up in the body of one of the 2nd Gen.

Lets say he ends up in the body of the son of Snaguinius and Horus. Ya know, the one kid that started off the whole thing? The Pairing that Emps had noticed and knew of their love not only for each other but for their sons? The one that did end one killing the other? Yeah, lets say he's their kid.

And we'll say that the Dark King and Star Child are not one Being but Two and they loved their son turned Grandson.

Robu will still take the Robel name. He will still turning to bounty hunting and he will still travel. He will find his Great Uncle Mavrick, after of course, stealing him from Trazyn. And he will travel with a Krieg and a Cadian. Why? Because Dark King and Star Child left him alone once and he was killed by the High Lords of Terra and before that he took on a chaos corrupted Fulgrim. Both things he walked into willingly. Both things that did not turn out well for him.

So Dark King takes the form of a Krieg Soldier and Star child takes on the Cadian one.

(the reason they can take form in the material world is because they were born of the living and not of a concept. They still have a living form. They have sons with their blood, sired not because of warp but because of the literal seed and egg combo. They can do so much more because of that, interacting with the material world was just the tip of the iceberg, and the Chaos Gods haven't put that together. It's also a major weakness. But Shush on that.)

I can see a few thing happening is this AU:

Robel waking up in the Palace of Terra. He gets pulled out of the Cradle by Dark King and Star Child and sees the Cradles that have been destroyed in the siege (parts of the Palace came down in the siege and have just been left in where they were, corridors that have not been touched in 10k years and the labs were hit by failing structures. The ceiling came down and took cradles out, others lost life support, either way Robel is the only survivor)

He, when he gets his feet underneath him, steal a ship and head out with Father(s) turn Grandfather(s) (He might take a custodes with him might not)

Gets into bounty hunting

works with Astartes

Gets the Red Thirst and hints of the Black Rage

Makes them seek out the Blood Angels

Dances around the fact that one: Robel is a Primarch, two: the Son of Sanguinius, three: the Son of HORUS

Can't let that last part get out

The Blood Angels aren't much help when they don't know they suppose to help

Guilliman starts getting reports about a Bounty Hunter that never fails a hunt

Hires them to hunt down something

They do not meet but Robel starts to help out around the Imperium solving issues that fucked him over when still Roboute

Gets stuck in a war zone with Astartes

Primarch status blown wide open with everyone having an idea on what the two soldiers at his side are

Maverick fits somewhere is the mess

Oh and so do the 2nd and 11th

===

Keeping in line with the Idea; everything is the same but Robel isn't the only survivor of the cradles and that Emps can't help out as much.

Au 2: The Children of the Primarchs

Sanguinius was the most beloved of the Primarchs. Every Primarch loved him. So when the Emperor of Mankind was making the Son of Horus and Sanguinius and the fear that his other children might feel left out and scorned for not having their own children; it wasn't a jump to make Sanguinius the 'Mother' as it were for many children. It wasn't to say that there weren't children that didn't have his DNA acting of the egg as it were, there were pairings that didn't have Sanguinius involved.

It was just he was main base.

Because if the other parent did not love his children then Sanguinius would be there to love them all the same.

Too bad the Hersey happened.

The list of Children: Oldest to youngest with parents

Robel (Son of Horus and Sanguinius)

Rats (Son of Konrad and Sanguinius)

Bones (Daughter of Russ and Lion)

Med (Son of Mortartion and Sanguinius)

Tinker (Son of Fulgrim and Ferrus)

Lilac (Daughter of Angron and Sanguinius)

Harthas (Son of Corvus and Konrad)

Bam-Bam (Daughter of Magnus and Khan)

The Twins: Tarasha and Kondora (Daughter of Roboute and the Missing Primarchs)

Tactic (Son of Dorn and Perty)

... (Sons of Lorgar and Angron, Lorgar and Sanguinius, Daughters of Alpharis and Horus, Omegon and Horus)

They were not all born at the same time. Robel, slowly gets those that lived, out of the cradles.

Rats is a seer and is Robel's right hand man.

Bones is the enforcer for Robel's rules and is the hunter.

Med is the medic of the group, had a really good understanding of medical things.

Tinker builds things.

Lilac keeps the peace.

Harthas handles the cooking and is also the spy master.

Bam-Bam is the psycher with the tendency to hit anything and everything with floating objects.

The twins are toddlers but bring joy.

Tactic stays wrapped up in a sling to Robel's chest because he is a newborn baby.

'...' do not make it. They come out of the cradle, they live for a few days, but for different reasons they do not make it.

Maybe one of the '...' died because of something in the Palace. Maybe a serf killed them thinking they were a mutant and not a 2nd gen Primarch, because why would they think that? The kids live in the walls and vents but Robel know that is not a safe place to raise children. After the death of '...' it is even more so.

So Robel packs up the family and leaves Terra. He steals a ship, but had no idea of where to go.

Bam-Bam had read in a book somewhere about oceans; Bam-Bam wants to see an ocean.

Bones wants to hunt a great beast.

Med wants to sleep under the stars.

Tinker wants to build a house. A big house where they can all live together.

Lilac had heard the serfs talk about a festival held on a planet that was all about flowers. She wants to see that.

Harthas wants new recipes to cook.

The twins and Tactic are just happy to be there.

Rats has a knowing look in his eyes. But doesn't argue when Robel's say that that is what they will do! They have dreams to fulfill and the galaxy to explore.

Later, when all but the oldest two are asleep, Rats will tell Robel what he had seen.

(Rats, because he is the son of the two seers of the Primarchs, doesn't just see one path into the future, he sees all choices and the effects they have, laid out in front of him. He knows his brothers, the Night Lords, will come calling. Nearly all the paths lead to that. He sees chaos and the Imperium take notice. There wasn't a path they stay hidden and alive in the palace. He sees Primarchs staying in chains and other times he seen them free themselves because of children they haven't even met. He sees the Blood Angels find out about them. He fears the day he will see the Blood Angels find out about Robel being the son of Horus, he dreads it.)

Geneseed brothers will not leave them alone.

Robel nods.

He will not let chaos have his children.

And they are his children now.

Even though he is a child himself.

The Plot is a simple field trip across the Imperium and leaving confusion in their wake.

Robel tries his hardest to fulfil the dreams of the kids as they travel.

They cause shenanigans wherever they go (eating contest won by children, machine being fixed by children, causes fights between crime lords in hive cities, food fights that take over a cafeteria, races in flying cars, ects.)

They get reputation

Robel checks off everything off their list and then adds more things

An Eagle shows up; it glows gold and speaks with it's mind (it's Grandfather)

The Night Lords show up and get them out a sticky mess

Rat bites someone's finger off

The Red Thirst comes knocking

Someone gets wings

Bones scares the shit out a Dark Angel and/or a Space Wolf

Harthas steals things that they need (meds and food mainly)

The Twins and Baby are nearly kidnapped

They raise hell to get them back

Roboute finds out about them

Chaos finds out about them

There is a thing called pulling a Sanguinius (Standing your ground at your own gates of Eternity then marching to your own certain death)

Robel is his father's son, no matter what father it was

There were three facts about Robel that need to be stated.

One: Robel loved his brothers when he was Roboute

Two: That love did not fade

Three: He loves the kids in his care as much as his brothers

When push comes to shove, Robel will also put them above himself, no matter what.

When they were being hunted by the High Lords of Terra, who would having a Primarch under their thumbs no matter if they were a child or not, and there was end in sight.

Robel sent them ahead as he stayed behind to hold back an army. (Rats had to be knocked out by Bones who had tears in her eyes as she threw him over her shoulder.) Maybe as he stood there someone tall with wings was seen at his side (Sanguinius stood tall even as his death came closer and closer, Robel was always his father's son.) Maybe as he stood there in the valley, waiting for an army to come down the one path there, he hears the sounds of engines. Maybe instead of the Black Crusaders that he had gotten use to see on his tail, it's the Luna Wolves. (The High lords and the Inquisition wasn't the only ones hunting the Children, the Four were trying their hands and Abaddon said no.) No longer was those that joined Horus and his Heresy wore black. They were going to die here and they were going to die wearing the colors that once did the Imperium Proud. (It did not matter if they were not the Geneseed of Horus, all that matter was they were loyal to Abaddon and had forsaken the Four, if you did? You wore the colors of the Luna Wolves)

Maybe that would be enough to turn the tide.

Maybe it won't.

Maybe Robel would be the last to die. Maybe he held off death long enough to see the sun raise and Primarchs come to the rescue. Maybe, when he saw Mortartion and Magus close portals, when he heard the wolves howl, and when he saw the Red of Blood Angels and Gold of Custodes and the Blue of Ultramar, when he saw Roboute and Leman come around the ben, that was when his knees gave out.

Behind him somewhere, hidden in a cave, unhurt but scared to death's door, was his kids. Kids that were now safe.

Maybe he was gathered up in arms as his hearts slowed. Who picked him up was up in the air. Roboute? Leman? Mortartion? Magnus? Lion? Maybe it was Dante.

The Blood Angel that had been on his tail. The Blood Angel who heard of his Primarch Brothers in a dream from his father. The Blood Angel knew his brothers other fathers but felt no Rage.

The Blood Angel that cradle his brother in his arms and plead with him to keep his eyes open.

The Blood Angel bowed his head and prayed that his father would guard the gate to where the slain go with everything he had, because this should not be the fate of his brother.

Maybe he wakes up.

Maybe Robel doesn't.

Children gathered into arms of Geneseed brothers and Fathers that never knew them.

All the while a Golden Eagle flies above with tears falling.

This AU can have a few branches that break off into their own AUs. One of which is all of the above but somehow they end up in the 30k canon before the Heresy.

I think this would be the one would be written out of order like my drafts but that would be the main thing of it. Like it's the memories of Robel playing as he stands at his Gates of Eternity.

I think the dead Primarchs might show up but I'm not sure. But all Primarchs will come back together to raise the children that is for sure. I'll come up with more details later.

Last AU

The Adult!Robu 30k:

When Roboute is killed by the High Lords he ends up in the 30k, but not as a child but in his old body.

He ends up as his younger self.

He had two choices: one, work to stop the Heresy, or two, not give a shit and let it play out and guard his people.

His brothers never truly cared for him. No matter how many olive branches he held out. They only cared about his planets and how many supplies and men he could muster.

So maybe Roboute, with the scar that killed him carrying over and thus messing up his throat and voice, stopped trying to make it work with his brothers.

The Ultramarines do not pull away but they do not offer up anything that was more then what was expected. Tactics are the same but there is a shift on how battles are handled.

While this is happening, Roboute is working himself to death. He stops eating as much, he looses weight fast, he stops sleeping and lives off recaf. (he use to the armor of fate keeping him alive, he used to running a shit show that was falling apart at the seams with no help.) His hand tremble and he can't look his sons in their eyes not anymore at least. (He had just gotten used to the idea that they are all dead and now they are alive well. it was hard to handle.)

It got bad. Really bad.

Maybe Roboute gets sick. A fever that settled in and refuses to leave no matter what. And it doesn't help that he worked himself into passing out.

His Sons are besides themselves in worry and reach out to the closest Legion. They don't a reply, they try again, nothing. One last time, nothing.

From here this can go three different ways: One, the Ultramarines send someone to Emps to get help, Two, they go to the closest Legion and try to talk to the Primarch personally, three, they stop reaching out and try to help their father father by themselves.

If they go to Emps, then Emps steps up to be a better dad and notices that Roboute his show all the signs of untreated depression and maybe so other issues. His brothers notice that emps his keeping Roboute close by and get jealous but after finding him in the sick bay and not getting better – they get their shit together.

The third option, is the one were the end up being called to back up and/or get one of the other Primarchs out of a bad situation. Roboute drags himself out of his bed and puts on armor and saves the day. He passes out after the threat is gone and his hauled back to his ship his brother, a brother that is pissed they were saved a 'weak' brother, only to find out how bad his health really is. The brother demands why they have not reached out. They have, no one answered.

Brother gets pissed and takes the ultramarines under his and his legions care.

Roboute doesn't get any better.

Brother tracks down the brother that ignored the call for help and tears him a new one. Guilty, the other brother offers help, and from there the plot gets messy. I want a moment where Roboute calls out the 2nd and 11th Primarchs, like the fever is so bad he's dreaming of memories long gone. I want the Emps to hold his hand as he whispers, 'They killed me, those High Lords, really did it.'

The second option, I can see cause the most issues for the brothers at least guilt wise. Like the Blueberries knock on your door and ask for you to hear them out and they don't leave. No matter what you say. Finally, he drag them back to their ship and demand to see Roboute (at this point it's been a few months; it's not good) and when you do see your brother.

Death had warmed over.

Roboute is a literal few days away from death and no one knew of it other then his sons.

Que panic. Que Panic calls from the ship, only because they are from the Blueberries, they go ignored. The brother goes back to his ships and hails Emps.

Emps gets there but Roboute had to be thrown into a statis to save his life. (He struggled, as much as a dying man could, he was begging and it hurt his brother hear him do so, he was begging to die. To not be put in the statis.)

Plans are made and a brother slowly gets more and more enraged at the disrespect the Blueberries get because they are Roboute sons. Emps notices too and tell Malcador to start call the Primachs.

They are have a new counsel but don't tell them what it's about.

Thats all that I have for that. I think I want Roboute to be so weak he has to have help, like he's in a wheel chair or something and Emps watches him like a hawk. The moment a brother steps out of line, makes any move of threatening Roboute, and he interferes.

The brothers have to learn to be brothers.

#warhammer 40k #ao3 writer #not edited #will add more later #time travel #roboute guilliman #the missing primarchs #Children of the Primarchs #the dark king #Star Child #AU Ideas #Theres three of them all together #dimension travel #I don't know if I have a fav but like one is def more happy then the others #Robel is the go to name at the moment #Primarchs #warhammer 30k

XI!Roubte AU: Needs a name still help!

Chapter 1: To Awaken after Death

When Roboute opened his eyes; he was shocked to say the least. The shock came from the fact that he was still alive. He didn't expect to be alive, that was common sense when you factor in that he was being stabbed just moments before. They were smart about it: his attackers that was. They waited till he was out of his armor and they waited till he was alone and then they attacked.

He could feel the pain, as phantom as it was, still. Blades scratching against bones, warm blood running down skin, hands holding him down – there was panic, a struggle, and a son among the faces of traitors. Kind words of death he whispered – preached – a look of madness and zealotry that dance in his eyes, and a blade in his hand.

Horus, Roboute thought, and Horus he spoke as the blade made itself home in his heart.

When his eyes finally fell shut and with the doors of the building being blown inward with gun fire and screams on the streets; he didn't really think about anything other then: this is it and oh good, it's over.

It's finally over.

Ten thousand years of war, grief, rage, and it's finally over.

The Lord Regent and Lord Commander of Imperium, the XIII Primarch, and Gene Father of the Ultramarines, died at the hands of traitors. It was said that it was one his own sons' blade that killed him, that the blade that was used struck him right where the Daemon Prince Fulgrim had used to cut him down ten thousand years before.

And while Imperium mourned and celebrated and prepared for the reckoning that was to come; Roboute Guilliman was waking up on a world ten thousand years in the past and in a body that wasn't his and yet bore his scars.

Roboute took a deep breath and then another, and another, and then another. He kept breathing, feeling the crips slightly dewy air fill his lungs with the scent of plants, rotting fruits, and the heady scent of iron.

He didn't move. He didn't want to and there was no need. He was dead and then not and he did not have a fuck to give. Not a signal one. So, he laid there. In the sunlight that was scattered in the leaves before they reached him. Basking in the peace that he hadn't had since before the death of his adoptive father Kodor.

Peace he knew wasn't going to last.

And he was right.

And it came in the form of a bird.

It was a large bird and it was a stupid one at that. It pecked at him as it landed next to his head. Roboute didn't give it a second thought as he snatched up the bird by the neck and snapped it with barely a twitch from his wrist.

As the bird fell with a dull thump, he looked at his hand.

Small and tiny, scarred and calloused, chipped nails and dirt covered. These were hands that he knew as a child in years pass and these were hands that he knew nothing about. He was in the body of a child, tinier then he ever had the memory of and yet here it was in front of him.

He stood up shakily and reached for the bird. It's feathers were soft and bright in color, the primary feathers were as long as his arms. His fingers traced the feathers and a smile tugged on newly scarred smile; if he remembered correctly, these feathers felt similar to Sanguinius'. Though, while he would never call himself poor of memory, it had been ten thousand years.

With the bird still in hand he looked around the clearing he found himself in.

A part of him though he should be freaking out more about this whole tiny body but another part of him told that part shut the fuck up. The last part of him that was tired, worn, weary, and out of any fucks and just wanted to rest, was the loudest and Roboute was leaned toward that part.

His first few steps were shaky and the next to follow weren't the best either; tripping and stumbling, no real target to get to, and yet he got up again and again. He was the last Primarch and it was what he did even if all he wanted to do was lay down and whatever happens happen.

When he stood as tall as his new height allow – which wasn't high at all – and the bird hung from his grip was when he saw a glint of light.

The sunlight was shinning down on the forest floor and it was hitting something metal. Roboute squinted his eyes and then they widened. He dropped the bird and broke out into a run. Soon, he was sliding across the ground and, not minding the sticks and leaves and mud that clung to him, he came to a stop in front of the metal.

A cradle.

A metal, egg shape, cradle that was nestled into a nest of grass, animal bones, feathers, and leaves. It was pushed up against boulders that acted as a barrier from the outside world.

His fingers traced the number that was engraved on the metal. The number sat on a metal band that was between the tented glass and the dented, scratched, and dirt covered, gold metal bottom half.

"II," he mouthed to himself.

A Primarch Cradle, the II Primarch's Cradle, one of the brothers that wasn't remembered. One of the forgotten, one of the ones who were lost, one of the ones who brought a look of utter sadness to the Emperor's eyes when they were brought up. And underneath Roboute's fingers, was the unopen cradle.

But was in the glass of the cradle that he saw himself.

Gone was his blonde hair and blue eyes and a face that wasn't marred by scars. In it's place was dark hair, overgrown and matted, eyes that were dark like his hair, and scars that on his cheeks, forehead, ears and eyes.

He had the scars he had as regent. The main one being the one of his throat. All of the scars looked old and many of them he knew, knew, that he got them from his death. The scars around his eyes, ears, and mouth – he opened his mouth and closed his eyes and took a deep breath when he noticed the scar on his tongue – those he got when being betrayed and butchered.

He opened his eyes and took a true look around.

Not too far from II's cradle was another. The number etched on it? XI, it wasn't a surprise to him anymore, both missing and forgotten brothers were together. The cradle was broken open, cleared out, and then fill with dry grass, leaves, feathers, and the ash from a fire pit. There was spears – wooden and made by hands that had much to learn – and bones that were mauled on where pure white when not touched by dirt.

A sharp cry startled him out of his studying.

The sunlight was fading and the night was awaking.

It was another bird was flew over his clearing. The bird was bigger then the one in his hand and the cry was of something of a predator's call. The bushes started to shack and shiver as things started to walk through it; those that were both big and small.

Roboute was quick to pick up the crude spears and even some animal bones with sharp edges. The bird that he had killed was thrown far from him and his sleeping little brother. The blood pool that he had awoken in was on the edge of the clearing and the smell may not smell good to him but he knew there were creature that would drawn to an easily meal.

He climbed onto of the boulders that cradled that cradle and settled in for a long night.

So! Hoped you liked it! Now this is unedited and needs some refrainment and all that jazz. But!! Here are somethings that I wanted to note for this AU.

I changed how the og!XI was going to look because at first he was going to look like Roboute (blonde hair and blue eyes) but now I want him to look like the Emperor's mimi me (Dark hair and dark eyes)

XI!Roboute will have his name changed I was think something along the name Pen but if anyone has a nice and sweet name that a kid could come up with to name themselves of the spot then plz share

This will be a 'wild chase' kind of story where the Primarchs are chasing XI!Roubte and the unhatched II around the galaxy

Xi!Roboute will try to fix the shit that went wrong his og time like the heresy and maybe will fighting the chaos gods much the displease of his father and older brothers

More will be added but this is just the basics

Plz feel free to throw some ideas around

This will mostly be drabbles that will be strung together by a common plot, settings, and characters

Yes this will be posted on AO3 when i have enough drabbles

Which brother do you think XI!Roboute should meet first

#warhammer 40k #ao3 writer #roboute guilliman #dimension travel #not edited #the missing primarchs #time travel #xi!roboute #will add more later #don't know how to tag this #chapter 1

A guide: part 6?

There was something about traveling with a Blood Angel.

No, that was the wrong thing to say.

There was something to traveling with a Blood Angel, an old Blood Angel that lived before Sanguinius had claimed his sons as his own, the kind of Blood Angel was a remnant of a forgotten era at that. It was a feel in the air, the iron scent that never went away, fangs in a mouth that had known ripping and tearing, human flesh as much as xeno's. It danced on the edge of perception – the 'I am dangerous' or 'it is dangerous' – the activated fight or flight instinct.

But for all of that... It was nice.

It was nice having someone else on the Shuttle. Another dual set beating hearts that was calm, idle in it's beats and the background noise it made.

Robel sat on the floor, II at his side, and watched Virgil clean his sword. A boring thing to watch when he could be looking at the stars or the dataslate in his hand. He was doing that, looking and working on his dataslate that was, but the Blood Angel was also something catching his attention.

He knew of the Nineth Legion before Sanguinius. He hadn't met the Legion Master in person but he and his sons had cleaned up after them, had watched battlefields from orbit, he had seen them in the worst moments of their history. Hopeless and broken and yearning for their Primarch, he saw them raise, and then he saw them fall. Hard. Broken and yearning and cursing Horus' name.

Dante, for all that he was Chapter Master of a broken Legion, was a Legion Master. Being called a Chapter Master was inadequate in a way. Tired, worn, and yearning. Old and Ancient in a way that had not been seen on Astartes unless metal entombed them or chaos had claimed them in the Heresy. He ruled well, made his father proud, but was not broken. Cracked and worn thin, yes, but not broken. He was still standing and he was still cursing and making the enemy regretting not keeping him down. But he didn't have that feeling that the Blood Angel with him was causing.

The man in front of him was none of those things. He didn't seem tired, and he didn't seem worn. He was humming as he cleaned his blade! And yet that feeling...

He must have gotten his geneseed right before Sanguinius tamed the wildness within them. The geneseed batch before the Primarch had rejuvenated it.

Robel's eyes darted back to his dataslate when Virgil stopped cleaning for a moment and met his eyes.

They needed money.

The Black Card from the Bounty Hunter Guild had some on it but getting the Shuttle set up with supplies was going to be pricy.

The need to get to Erebus and cut the man's head off was put on the back burner. By this point he should be traveling with Lorgar or at least he had his eyes on him. He was easy to find in the long run. Food? Water? Weapons? They were on the top of his list. To get those he needed money. And that brings him back to the money.

There was a quick way to get it.

He was part of the guild.

But can he take a large detour in the shuttle?

He clicked a few tabs and brought up the closest bounties.

Finick Ness 'The Butcher'. Bounty 12,000 Units. The Warlord that had taken over a planet that wasn't brought into the Imperial's control. The Planet recently found by the Rogue Trader 'Arlo Booker', Captain of the 'Fair Lady'.

Paxxon Draft 'The Snake'. Bounty 25,000 Units. A money lender gone rogue. Rules the fleet of twenty-five ships. The flag ship 'Terror's Teeth' known for it's speed and being stolen from a Rogue Trader's own fleet. Many in the business of crime owe him money.

Jax O'Nic. Bounty 5,000 Units. Smuggler and agent for a Pirate Ring. Last seen on a moon not to far from them. Know for his fighting and skill with a rifle. Deadly for newer bounty hunters but not impossible to take out.

Jax? That name was familiar. He didn't catch the last name but the Pirates he 'hitched a ride with' had spoke of a 'Jax'. Under the name was a list of known associates. There was that in pale, dead, gray with bounties cashed in, was three he killed. Salvo Lynks, Jonny Mayns, and Tomas Lords. His name 'Robel D'Guinius' was right next to them and the name 'Emmalnor D'Guinius' was also right there. If he got another bounty, he would have to act as his own father again.

Or...

He turned to Virgil.

Astartes can't have children. Not biological ones at least. It's not uncommon for them to take in children on a planet they are stationed at for long term nor was it unheard of for them to taken in children of relatives.

Virgil looked up from his sword again and Robel was flickering to his profile or better known as 'Emmalnor D'Guinius'' profile. He would fill out all the paperwork, the backstory, and everything else. He just needed Virgil's face and possibly his hand signature.

Good thing he already described Emmalnor as being the size of a tall Astartes, long blonde hair, and blue eyes. All of which Virgil fit.

Emmalnor D'Guinius, The fucked up version of Roboute Guilliman.

He shoved the dataslate under Virgil's nose.

Virgil blinked, leaned back, put his sword to the side, and picked up the dataslate.

"Your father is Emmalnor?" He asked.

Robel didn't bother trying to hide the roll of his eyes. He pointed at the name, mined the slicing of a throat, then at the name again, at Virgil.

"Emmalnor, your father is dead." He spoke.

Close enough.

"You want me to play your father for what reason?" He leaned forward and Robel also leaned over. His fingers were once again dancing over the bounty Profile before he pulled up Jax O'Nic.

When he leaned back again, Virgil's eyes weren't on the dataslate and the new information, they were on him.

He leaned forward to Robel and Robel froze as he took in a deep sniff.

"Why do you smell like a Primarch?"

Oh.

The smell of a Primarch was unique to only Primarchs. Height and strength wasn't the only thing that put Primarch's aside from everyone else. There was a musk and thickness to a scent that they only had. Astartes had it to a lesser degree but still there. It was damn near impossible to hide an Astartes musk, and it was right impossible to do the same for a Primarch's.

But Robel had been in fires, smoke fill halls, pools of blood, and swamps. He crossed a battlefield of Orks and while he still had Angron's blood on him. It was a day old, and with the stress of the Ork attack – the smell wasn't in the front of the mind now was it? Add in the fact that the smell of an adult Primarch was most likely heavier, thicker, and over all smells of being grown? Much different then that of a child?

Robel jumped off of Virgil's knee – where he had been leaning – and ran for II and the spear that was next him.

He didn't want to fight one of Sanguinius' sons but he would.

Virgil watched him the laser focus of a predator gaging how to attack.

Robel leveled the spear at him as Virgil got up.

He towered over him and was in his body glove and while he was small; Robel's spear could cut through that material. He could shove the spear into his guts if he needed too.

But –

Virgil did nothing.

He stood there. Not looming, not moving, the dataslate still in his hand.

He leaned forward just a bit.

The shuttle was cramped and while it was made up three rooms. There wasn't a real living courters. A place to lay a sleeping mat or two and Robel's size definitely played well with the size of shuttle; it still wasn't that far for him to lean.

He took a deep breath. His eyes locked onto him, then they moved, they moved to look at the spear.

"Robel," he said. His voice was wasn't quiet or carrying the slightly happy tone from before. But it wasn't stern. It was somewhere in the middle of being firm and being the tone his mother took when he was young.

"Robel," he said again in that same tone. "Can I see your spear? You don't have to let go of it. I just want to know what the metal of the spear in made of." He small step forward.

Robel looked at his spear. Why did he – Oh.

The metal of a cradle was something hard to come by. The metal of the cradle with the number printed in old gothic? There were only twenty of those in the universe. Only twenty.

He didn't move as Virgil gently touched the tip of the spear. He tilted it and Robel, while as still as a wild rabbit about to be eaten with hearts beating just as fast, leaned with his tilting to keep a good grip on it.

His breath caught and Robel could hear it well and clear.

"Undecim." He whispered.

That word, that name, carried a weight that Robel didn't know something like that could.

It was a number. But it was the title given to someone thought dead and gone. Here he was, a ghost of the lost, standing with his number on show.

"How could I have –" He took a deep breath. "Where are we going?"

Robel blinked as Virgil stepped away from and went back to where he was seating. He was looking at the dataslate.

"We need to tell you father –" he paused again. His eyes must have been locked on the 'Emmalnor' name. "Do you know who you are?"

Robel lifted a brow and crossed his arms. His spear still in hand.

"You don't. Not a clue. Okay. Okay!" Virgil mumbled to himself. "Your spear is made up of a material that is only found from a thing called a Cradle. A Primarch Cradle. You smell like a Primarch and you have that metal."

Oh, he was starting from the very beginning. Not to bad of a place to start, if he was a normal child or the other XI, it would be good way to tell them what they were. But he wasn't so he only listen with half an ear.

"You have older brothers. Eighteen, each one was from a cradle and each as a number to with that Cradle. You were stolen from you father." He took a deep breath, "You might have – heard of him?" He was pausing and near stuttering over words. "The Emperor of Mankind? The Emperor of the Imperium. He's been looking for you and your brothers. He's found all of you but not you or Secundus."

Virgil started move and head to the cockpit. "We need to get you home. I need to contact my father, your brother Sanguinius, and the Emperor. This is good news!"

Robel snatched the dataslate and stepped in front of him.

He wasn't going home. He wasn't going to Terra. He wasn't heading to the Flag Ship of the Imperium.

He had a job to do.

That job was to kill Erebus and stop his brothers of killing each other or starting a civil war.

He couldn't do that if he was stuck on Terra!

Sorry nephew of the favored brother, but there was a plan and that plan was not his family!

Virgil must had read the rage and sternness on his face. Or maybe it was the spear that making itself a home ever so slightly in his body glove. There wasn't enough force to pierce through but there was enough to give him pause.

"Robel?"

He pointed at the dataslate again. At the man they were going to hunt! If Virgil wanted to leave and contact Sanguinius – fine! But after he helped Robel get a payday.

---

I am so happy with this!! I still need to settle Virgil's personality and voice a little better but since we just met him I'll let it slide for now!

So what's your thoughts?

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

If anyone else wants to be tagged in the series just go ahead a tell me!

#warhammer 40k #ao3 writer #not edited #xi!roboute #roboute guilliman #dimension travel #the missing primarchs #The Blood Angel has been named!!!!#Let the great misunderstanding of the Robel and his life begin!#will add more later #Virgil is so confused #Its only going to get worse!

Reclaiming update

The ships slipped between star and rocks with a speed and cared that was expected and not.

The speed, at least, was expected. The ships that of the Commanders were made by the Imperium for the Great Crusade. Time, age, and the changes that were forced upon the ships by the Hive Mind had wiped the names from the hulls. But they were of the Legions and ships of the Legion were made for war.

The care on the other hand was not expected.

But maybe it have been.

The Ships stuck together. One did not go to far ahead without back tracking, circling around, to the other's side. One of the larger ones always stuck close to the small one. The first one that left the Ghoul Stars.

Trajann Valoris couldn't stop the surprise that tried to take hold of him as the small ship stayed close to the sides of the other ships.

The small ship, looked like a speck when compared to the others, it was also gold. The paint may have been fading and the Hive may have tried to whip any sign of the Imperium away; it was still noticeably gold.

"I wonder," His Lord whispered from where He sat. His closed eyes were still closed but His head was tilted in such away that it looked like He was trying to get a better look at something.

Maybe He was.

He had heard stories from the older Custodes. The ones that had come before him and the ones that had left when he was still climbing the ranks. It was by them leaving, as it were, that he had post to fill. They were The Ten Thousand. Nothing more and nothing less. It was because of them, though, that he got an 'understanding' of the Emperor.

The understanding was simple: the Imperium above all.

No mater what happens. No matter what breaks, what cracks, gets forgotten, is butchered, or dead, the Imperium above all. It was why when he became the head of the Custodes, the Commander-General, he ordered the more active play in the Imperium.

Custodes to all sectors, Custodes to lead teams of themselves and Astartes in different sectors, to lead the charge in retaking lost planets like they once did in the Great Crusade when the Emperor walked among them.

Beacuse if the Emperor had bound Himself to the throne for humanity – how could they just sit back and watch it all be taken and stay stolen?

When Guilliman awoke. When the title of 'Regent' was placed upon his shoulders and there was light for once in ten thousand years – Trajann knew what to do.

Knew what was important.

The Imperium above all.

Even if you death just lays the foundation of something greater: the Imperium comes first.

If only he had taken those steps sooner.

Had reached out to Lord Guilliman and had not let the history of the Primarchs rest between them. If only he had been the one at his side that day, had kept a closer eyes of the High Lords of Terra; maybe, just maybe, he would still be here.

"Wonder what, My Lord?" Trajann asked as he turned away from the viewing windows of the Command Bridge. The view was a beautiful thing, if one looked past the debris fields of meteors and planets that had met their end scattered around. Things that they – the ship that they were on, the three ships of the Ghoul Star Astartes, and the ones that came out of the Ghoul Stars – had to move around.

"The little one. It looks like Justinian's ship." His Lord had stood up from the command chair and had walked to stand next to him.

"Justinian?" The name fell form his own lips with ease and the hint of familiarity. Even if he didn't know the name or had even said it before.

"Justinian was one of my Custodes that fought Shamlock and Beau."

A golden brother that had been lost to time.

"When it came time to lock the Commanders away, they were too smart. Too willful. They knew on the traps and lures that we could do. Justinian was the one to find the Ghoul Stars and he was the one who used himself as bait to get the Commanders in the Stars. He baited them and when they took it – he led them into those stars." His Lord stopped then. "We waited. Three weeks, we waited in front of those Stars, waited for him to out run them. To shoot out as it were." He turned to him then. "He never did."

"Till now." He found himself saying.

His Lord smiled. "Till now of course. If that is truly him." His Lord turned back to the viewing windows of the bridge. "I know that he and the Commanders were not the only ones in those Stars. And he may be one of my Custodes. But that does not make him invincible."

That was true. But still – if there was a chance then why not take it? "Is there a way to check if it is?" Trajann asked before he could stop himself.

"A hailing." Was his answer. It was quick and brought that closed eyed look back to him. "We could try a hailing, though there is no guarantee that there will be an answer back."

"We must try." Trajann said. His own eyes darted to the control console and even to the Hailing Center that just needed a number to dial in for that very try to be given a chance.

It was his Lord that typed in the numbers and it was Him that stood in front of the Hailing Camera.

For a few long moments – there was nothing but a dialing tone.

In those moments, the thought that there would be no answer, was clear in his mind.

Trajann wouldn't call himself hopeful. He was not one to surround himself in that exception, but for his Lord? For the chance that a forgotten and lost Custodes may return to his side? One that may not have been at His side for the past ten thousand years but still a face missed and waited on? To give that same face back to his Lord after all this time? Then yes, he was hopeful and waited with breath held for that Hailing Tone to be answered.

Click –

There was nothing but harsh breathing.

"The Imperium is a failure." That was what his Lord says. What he starts that conversation with. "The Four have taken nine of my children and only some are alive. Nine stayed with me but all are missing. Roboute – Roboute was killed by the High Lords of Terra."

The Breathing stopped.

"He was my only one. The last one standing."

"Rob – Robou issss Deeadd?" The words were being tripped over. The words were being dragged out. The voice was a fading nearly vibrating thing that didn't seem to understand language anymore.

Trajann did not suck in a breath. He did not move. But he would not deny the ache that came from those words.

The Lord Regent was dead.

And soon the Imperium would follow him.

They killed him, they made their bed, now it was time for them to lay in it.

"Yes," his Lord spoke with a finality that must have hurt.

"Whhyyys?"

"Because of many reasons." There was a pause. "Justinian, are you with Commander Alaric and Commander Isen?"

"Theeeyyy Allwayss here."

Trajann's hand tightened every so slightly on the hand railing that surround the upper deck of the Control Cathedral. It was only them in the Control Cathedral, he had sent his brothers to rest when they started to tail the ships, the hum of the ship underneath him and his Lord was the only sound other then the Hailing.

"Tell them: I will wake their fathers with no strings attached."

"Lord?"

"I will wake Shamlock and Beau. The issue is that I can not find them. I do not know were they are. I need to follow the Commanders." His Lord spoke with a voice that was fill with emotions that was hard to place. His shoulders were back and His back was straight. Closed eyes stared at the screen that was still not showing anything but shadows and darkness.

There was rustling and shifting.

Claws scrapping across the walls, buttons that needed oiled being pushed, and creaking and groans that was being heard over the Hailing.

"You speak truth?"

That was not the broken voice that they were listening to speak.

That voice – was broken, scratched, and had trouble placing words and cutting off sounds. This one, the one that had just spoken, was both similar and not. it was dual toned with a third underlining it all.

His lord took a small step forward. "I speak the truth."

Silence and then, "Follow us."

The Hailing cut off.

His Lord stared at that empty screen. "They have him." He settled on. "The Hive has Justinian."

"My Lord," Trajann didn't know what to say. Didn't know how one comforts their lord as the new that the Hive that took His sons and their Legions, took one of His most loyal.

"Pass word along to the other ships. Follow the trio." His Lord turned away from the screen and walked Command center with a robes dragging on the floor behind Him. "With any luck the two will be close together."

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

Luck was on their side.

Trajann stood in front of the radar as the Commander Ships and the Lost Custodes Ship – the Stolen One, as some of his brothers have taken calling Justinian, the Stolen Brother – started to slow.

They had been flying through space at speeds that were mainly used from wartime. Granted, Trajann didn't know of a time that wasn't wartime, but the point stood. The speeds that were being used were not speeds that Astartes that weren't running from a fallen warzone, getting to a warzone that was about to fall, or protecting High Lords – Trajann sneered at the very thought of those creatures – then they were not used.

Yet, here they were, rushing through the stars till they but streaks of lights that looked to the half forgotten strokes of a painter that thought himself done before realizing he needed to fill the sky.

"Commander-General Valoris," One of the Ghoul Star Astartes called out over the Hailing Call. "My radar has caught signs of a large gravity distortion up ahead." It was the Ultramarine Chapter master who spoke.

"We are getting the same thing over here." One of the Raven Guard Chapter Master brothers pointed out.

The Ghoul Star Chapters, as Trajann and his brothers and sisters have taken to calling them, were good escorts. They may not know where they were going but they were not going to let them go alone. They scouted ahead before even being prompted. They had each kept an eye of the Commanders and had reported if one had slowed or if anything had changed.

Over the last week, there both was many changes and not.

The Ships kept an even pace, even if that pace was at neck-breaking speed. There was clearing a plan, though no path was though of. Dwarf Planets, asteroid fields, Gas Giants, were just some of the things that they had to move around as they traveled. They knew what was on the other side, they knew of their own end goal, they just didn't know how to get there.

Trajann nodded. "Thank you, I have received the same readings." He turned behind him. "My Lord, gravity distortion up ahead."

His Lord had been of the ship the whole time. He had disappeared into a tear in the warp that he was sure lead to the Palace, the Warp Palace, he had taken to calling it in his mind. He didn't know what his Lord did when away, and while the offer to go with Him was given to him, he had to decline, someone must stay and make sure they reach the Primarchs in one piece.

His Lord was currently back in the Captain's Chair and was watching with closed eyes.

"Keep your eyes open. Procced with caution." He ordered.

Trajann nodded and turned to the Chapter Masters. "Procced with caution."

And that was what they did.

Every ship slowed to a crawl as they came close to that gravity distortion. It wasn't the first gravity distortion that had approached, but it was the first one that had the attention of the Commanders.

They came around a Dwarf Planet that was nothing but sand and ash and everything seemed to freeze.

There, floating around a ship that should not called a ship because of how large it was – a planet might fit it better – were two Imerpium Flagships.

Both per-Horus Heresy.

Both having one of the numbers 'II' and 'XI' on them.

"My Lord –" Trajann didn't know what to say. Was that the Mother Ship?

He had heard rumors about the size of the ships that tryinaids used. About their Mother Ships had the largest of their fleets. Surely, this ship was larger then any of them combined.

His Lord did not say a word. In fact, his Lord stood up and walked to the Bridge windows, with a hand slowly reaching out.

"Hail all ships! Hail them now!"

His fingers flew across the dials, buttons, and screens.

His Lord had His whole focus on the three ships that were frozen in front of them. Frozen, may not have been the best wording, the way to say that the ships were chained to one another, that the two Flagships of the missing Legions and that housed the Primachs were not going anywhere. The chains were large, like they were built to pull planets out of the gravity of their stars. Chains that were hooked into the sides of the ships and if they were lucky, they were linked through supply dock doors not through the hauls itself.

That Large Ship put Dwarf Planets to shame and most likely even small planets that bore the title planet to shame.

Shaped like something Trajann had only seen in the ancient books of even an even more ancient book of Terra. With a bottom that looked like the ancient wooden ships that once sailed the long gone oceans with a top above it that looked like a triangle. The triangle was the part the had the engines, engines that were not powered up and hung at the sides, with the chains coming from somewhere from the bottom part. There was masts too. They stuck out of the triangle with pride and on the rolled up was a cloth of some kind.

Cloth.

Like the sails of a ship.

"Your Grace," A Raven Guard Chapter Master was the first to answer. His helmet was the only thing seen even as it clear with every twitch and the subtle shifting's of his chin that he was uneasy. "What is that?" The words fell with a quietness that a Chapter Master of any kind of Astartes Chapter should not have, much less the Chapter master of one of the Ghoul Stars. But Trajann would not begrudge them.

"Your Grace, we are ready to move." The words came from the Ultramarine Chapter Master, the one, understandably so, had been on the quiet side and who the Raven Guard Brothers had taken to travel with his ship sandwich between them. "Just say the word and we will start boarding."

"Or at least make a kind of contact." The last Chapter Master, the Raven Guard that was taller then the smallest Primarchs, spoke at last.

It was not said that the guns of their ships were ready to fire and pull free the flagships. Or at least give it a try.

The three were one, he had come to find, where one went the other two weren't too far behind. There was a steadiness that Trajann seen in them that he seen his own Golden Siblings. If they were to enter a fight against anything, they were going to go together.

"Halt all movements!" His Lord called out. "Do not approach."

"My lord, what is –" Trajann wiped his head around. There was a bit of panic in his Lord's voice. He didn't get to finish his question as the ship rocked and shook from the shifting of the Gravity Well that they were near but not yet in the sway of. He grabbed onto the railing and held tight as the ship underneath them started to shake and shift and shuddered as the planet large ship started to move.

Move.

That wasn't the right word.

Shift. Shake. Shudder. None of those were right either.

No.

The Ship that held the Flagships in it's orbit with literal chains that Trajann could now see; was waking up.

Waking up, like a creature that had laid down to take a nap and then over slept for a century or even more. It shivered as engines, that were a barely glowing with truly dying embers, came to life with fire that was ignited from within. A deep red glow started from the engines and then like a ripple; the red glow flowed along lines that looked less like grooves from overlaid panels and sheets of metal and more like the veins of a living thing.

Like blood learning to flow again.

There was a beat in that glow.

A best that even in a ship and outside of the Gravity Well, Trajann could feel underneath his feet.

His brothers of golden rushed around on the bottom level of the command cathedral as the Beast woke up. They were helpless on their own ship if that thing chose to attack. They gripped their weapons and stood at their stations at the ship underneath returned back to a non-shaking normal.

"My Lord," The words fell from his lips, eyes not leaving his view of the ship – no, Beast. "What is that." A harsh whisper with his voice not even working and just the rush of air that was forming words. Words that were heard and understood; but ignored.

"Astates! Keep your distance! Commander Alaric and Commander Isen, keep still and wait on command to get to your fathers! The chains need to disengage before we board them!"

There was a coarse of 'Yes, My Lord,' a lone 'Yes, Sir,' and two hums, and no ship moved.

"Valoris!" His Lord called. "I need you to keep an open line of communication open. No censor. No filter. Open air right now!"

And that was what he did.

The Hailing was open to anyone to answer if they were in reach of the signal.

"Lazarus." His lord spoke in a soft voice. "Lazarus it's been a long time hasn't it?"

The chains shook as the Beast seemed to shift to them.

Trajann could only imagine the sound that the chains made as they moved. The thunder that was surely coming from them as they shivered and raddled against other links.

"Uncle?" A quiet, tired voice, came from the Hailing Screen.

The one who answered the Hailing was anyone that Trajann could place. In fact, mush like one of the Raven Guard Brothers, the Hailing screen was answered not with a face but with a red smiling face. The same red that was lighting up the engines and the veins.

"Lazarus, it is me." The Dark King took a step forward and then another and another till He was standing in from of the screen and the recorder.

"You – You look different." It was a child voice, or maybe closer to a young adult, a young man still waiting for his voice to finish settling.

"Yes, I say that I would. It's been twelve thousand years." There was a pause. "Fourteen at the longest."

"I didn't stop looking." Lazarus, the captain of the Beast, said. He had to be the captain because who else could be?

His Lord nodded. "When we stopped hearing from you and then about you – we knew you were looking."

"I found nothing." Larzarus' voice cracked with tears that were surly falling. "I searched. And searched, and searched. And nothing!" The last part was a harsh whisper. The need to yell it was beaten by the loss of strength: the loss of hope. "Nothing! Nothing in the stars, on Earth, the moon, Mars! I looked! There was nothing."

"Laz–" His Lord started.

"And then – I found them." Lazarus interrupted Him, had cut Him off, but He didn't look liked He minded all that much. "They were lost. Cold, but alive." There was another pause. "Uncle. I read the systems of the ships. I knew they were yours. I knew they were!"

"Thank you for looking out for them." His Lord spoke.

"They were all I had." Lazarus got real quiet and then, "Are you taking them away?"

His Lord took in a deep breath.

Lazarus was nearly frantic. "I know I should have been searching but I had been alone! Papa didn't make us to be alone! I know Girly-Pop went online! I felt it! I know Spyder and Double 'O' went offline a long time ago. And the others too! I know I should be looking for Papa but I just–"

"Lazarus!" His Lord yelled. His voice and command broke through the panicking of the captain. "Do you have a list of how many siblings and when they went offline?"

There was sniffle. "Yes."

"Good. I want that list." There was pause. "The ships. They are mine. They are my sons. They have been gone for a long time. I'm waking them up. If they follow me or go is up to them."

"Cousins?"

A half smile was the answer. "Your father may have called Malcador my whore more then once, but I was the one who had twenty-one sons. Not him."

"Twenty-one! Papa didn't even have that many of us!" The back tracking. "Papa only called him a whore because he was your 'yes man'. And it was out of love anyway." That last part was tacked on.

Trajann didn't know who Lazarus' Papa was. He didn't know how the captain got away with calling the Dark King his uncle. And he was certainly confused on how said 'Papa' got away with calling Lord Malcador a 'whore'.

"Yes, Maverick always said we needed to be brought down a peg or two less we float away as hot air balloons." The Dark King shook his head. "He was right."

"What?"

"Your father, he was right about a lot of things. And –" The Dark King looked through those windows and to the Beast. "I followed his footsteps. Funny, it's supposed to be the older brothers that make way. But your father was always a man of contradictions and broken traditions now wasn't he?"

Lazarus took a deep shaky breath. "What footsteps did you follow?"

His Lord didn't answer for a moment. "Do you know the Imperium of Man?"

"No."

What? He wouldn't say that was impossible. They were on the edges of the light of the Astronomicon, the dark No-Man zone, where only those with guts, needs, and fools, go. The Beast hadn't been spotted anywhere else in the Imperium. Something as large of the ship that Lazarus captained wouldn't be easily missed.

But – his Lord did say it had been twelve or fourteen thousand years since that had last seen each other. They were ancient. Larazus and the ship. Far older then the Imperium.

Trajann looked at the Beast.

Was it a product of the Age of Technology?

"We have much to speak on." The Dark King settled on. "I would like to get my sons and bring them aboard with your permission."

"Aboard me?" The confusion was nearly physical.

"Neutral grounds. You have been the one guarding them have you not?" The smile was back. "I thank you for that."

"No! No! No, need for thanks! Not between family! Not on this!"

Trajann could almost see a boy, faceless with a stature that was still being filled out, looking on in horror at the sound of his uncle saying 'thank you'. The very idea of such a thing happening was not thought about. It was almost funny, in a way.

"Yes! You can come aboard. I can't say that there is any food or that the water system is good for drinking. So bring that."

"We will."

It was with that that the Hailing Call was disconnected and his Lord turned to him.

"Get shuttled ready and get over there now."

Trajann bowed and the hurried to do just that.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

The inside of the flagships were full of nothing but memories.

That was what Trajann settled on as he went deeper and deeper through the hallwyas of the Second Legion.

Astartes and bugs with being that looked like long limped humanoids with faces that were only a mouth and slit nostros for noses; stood like statues. It was one thing, to be told that they were frozen mid fight when their Primarch and Hive Mother, for the lack of better wording, was thrown into statis.

The Commander, Commander Alaric, had enter the ship before anyone and had long since beaten everyone to his father.

Trajann wondered what they looked like.

All the Astartes with dressed for battle with helmets and weapons raised. Nothing could be seen as a weakness in the armor was seen.

Though, "All units," He spoke to his Vox, "When the Primarch awakes. Please stay clear of the Astartes. There maybe pressure on the weapons and that might activate them when they wake."

He got a course of 'yes, sirs,' before he moved on.

"Father. Come on, Father. You've been sleeping for too long."

If Trajann didn't know who the man was or what made him be as he was; he would have called Commander Alaric a raving lunatic. Pleading to a man not going wake.

But Commander Alaric was no mad man or raving lunatic, just a desperate Astartes trying to wake his Primarch.

"As you heard over the the Hailing, we are going to Captain Lazarus. I believe the waking of your father will happen on his ship." Trajann spoke as he came around the corner.

The Primarch, Shamlock, was sitting in the Captain's Chair. He was still dressed in a dark Blue-green armor that had gold ancient all over it. In design, it took after the late Lord Guilliman, following his silhouette though he was taller. His gun was on the ground, lost in the struggle that put him in the statis in the first place, and his sword was buried in one of the control consoles.

Lord Shamlock was pale of skin but was black of hair.

The stories of Konrad Curze and Corvus Corax come to mind.

His hair was a mess. Caked with blood that dripped down from the back of his head and down his amor. He had freckles, something the two mentioned brothers did not have, and while his face and head were tilted at an awkward angle, he was pretty beautifully even. That much was noticeable in the pale lighting.

"Stop gawking." Commander Alaric growled out.

Trajann looked over at him slowly.

Commander Alaric was brown haired, red-eyed, with a protective rage his his frame. He was on the small end of Astartes, wore the same color of his father and thus Legion. He had a chain sword on his back and a pistol on his hip.

"I did not mean offense." Trajann spoke as he took a few steps back.

"You a Custodes. You mean all the offense and apology." Was his answer.

Trajann bit back the defense for his brothers.

"Come," he said he stepped to the other side of the Primarch. "We'll carry him out to the shuttle and aboard the ship. Then he will awake."

Commander Alaric growled but helped nonetheless in the carrying of his father.

So, the mystery of Maverick deepens. Also yes, we will see maverick again in 'A guide'.

This is hot of the typer and not at all edited. So if there is anything major that needs to be edited and fixed ASAP then point them out. Please and thank you.

So here is Shamlock. Asleep like a princess and is getting kidnapped to his cousin, who is not all that he appears to be.

I have a few AU Ideas that I'll most likely post about tomarrow. You have that to look forward too.

This took me forever to wright and I do not look forward to going back and editing it and adding details that I know need to be added here and there. 'Tis is the pain of writing I guess.

Thoughts?

Tagged: @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @sleepyfan-blog @ladysmugleaf

#warhammer 40k #ao3 writer #not edited #dimension travel #the dark king #the missing primarchs #roboute guilliman #Tragann Valoris #Shamlock is here!!!!#Beau is come soon Maybe #if the thought bunnies are nice and all that #Second Primarch

Okay so here we goooooo!!!!! Part 2 of XI!Roboute now after this rest will out of sort drabbles that i will write as ideas come to mind.

Roboute, at last, breathed a sigh of relief. His hands dug hard into the broken, blood, covered spear, and leaned his whole weight against it. There is something to be said, he thinks, about put all your weight on something that already broke when pressure was applied. Shut up, he also thought to that thought that came from the side of his brain that sounded more and more like the Lord Regent, and then fell as what was left of the spear snapped under his weight. He landed on his back and took the wise decision of staying where he landed.

The sun rose and he waited till it was halfway to the halfway point before getting up. His body ached in ways that his new body was protesting being moved in.

Which, seeing as his new body was that of a child – it wasn't a big surprise. None of the pain was really a surprise; he had been fighting from sun up to sun down. It seemed and felt like every creature to call the planet home had decided at that very moment to bring every thing they had in killing the child Primarchs.

Too bad that it was Roboute that they met head on and not the Original XIth.

Roboute got up on shaky legs and used the broken spear to walk over to one of the fallen animals – a bear creature with thick hide and sharp claws and teeth – around him. He hadn't spent a lot of time bonding with his more wild brothers but Leman and Lion had a very spirited debate on how to skin an animal. Roboute, who was stuck sitting between them, was forced to listen and look over diagrams and knife techniques. At the time, he didn't think it was of much help or importance to his life, but now? That information was going to be put to use.

He didn't have a real knife that his brothers would say he needed but he had a really sharp bone. They weren't one for one but he had to work with what he had. The bear's fur was tough and had the feel of being water proof to it. Which was something he needed.

He didn't know the weather of the planet and he wasn't planning on sticking around long enough to find out, but when had anything gone to plan for him? Not much, that's for sure. To get off the planet he needed a few things: one, a holder, sled, or something of the like, so he could carry II out with him.

And he would.

He wasn't leaving his brother behind.

The second thing he needed? To figure out where he was and if there was humans or any kind of space faring creatures on the planet. That was more then one thing, but they were connected so he will keep them as one on his check list.

The last thing was figuring out what happened. All that he knew was his death and after that? Smoke and ash was his memories, though, he could say this only within his own head and no where near any Psyker that could read minds: he felt warm hands in the end. Warm hands that were large, that held him like he was a child, and cradle him as his eyes fell.

He knew what those hands were, he knew who they belonged too, but he didn't know why they were there in the end. Was it his own mind playing tricks on him? Cruel tricks that served no purpose then to cause pain and an aching heart. Ten thousand years fucked with his head. Yes, he will admit that. Yes, he hadn't live those ten thousand years in the most traditional of senses, but the passage of time didn't wait for anyone, and while he didn't live those years, he felt them. Heavy. Cold and sharp on his shoulders. So in the end, did he hallucinate the hands as a comfort from the only person that was a permanent fixture in his life or was he looking too deep into it?

Roboute blinked his eyes and looked at his hands.

He was so lost in thought that the pelt he was cutting was finished. He held up the path to the sky and then looked over to the cradle. He placed still flesh covered pelt next to it, he stood back, and then nodded to himself. Yes, it would work. The cradle would fit nicely in the middle and if he added some thick vines and later rope; he should be able to pull it across the ground or even carry it on his back if needed.

He got to work on scrapping the meat off and then he left it out in the sun to dry. Walking over to the edge of the forest he was able to see that the forest itself wasn't actually a forest. It would be better called and noted as a jungle then a forest – that both worked in his favor and not.

It worked in his favor because of the resources that he could get – the vines he needed were plenty – and he could climb a tree and get a good height on what was happening. It wasn't a good thing because of how thick of a jungle it was. He could already hear predators on the prowl. The sun was still rising but night never ended under the canopy of the jungle.

He grabbed the vines he needed and then went right back to his brother.

They couldn't stay in the clearing. There was too much blood and death and that was bound to draw attention that he couldn't afford to fight against.

He stabbed holes into the slightly bloody pelt and then shoved the vines through those holes. He tied them into secure knots and then picked up his brother for the first time. Looking at a cradle, he would have thought it was heavy and armored, a thick casing to guard the one who waited inside of it. It wasn't that heavy though, there was a thick sloshing sound that came from inside of it that he didn't not like but it wasn't heavy. At least not to a child Primarch.

He pulled on the vines and the pelt closed around his brother like a pouch that guarded him. With a deep breath, Roboute pulled his brother onto his back and made his way to the thickest and tallest of the trees he could find.

Hopefully, at the top, he'll be able to find a way for him to go.

The view he got from the tree was something that told him a lot of things and told him nothing.

Jungle was all the eye could see; expect for the runway for space shuttles It sat on the very edge of the jungle, where land falls off into water. The space shuttles were looking ready to go.

Roboute smiled.

"Well, little brother it looks like we are out of here."

He stopped though, at the bottom of the tree he had chosen, and turned back to clearing had carried the title of 'home'. He looked passed the bodies and blood and looked at the small firepit, at the nest that was now missing a cradle, and he was looking the cradle of XI.

Walking over to the cradle, he smiled as he pulled a chuck of golden metal off and with it the 'XI'.

Now he was ready.

So thoughts? This drove me crazy and it feels like it's missing something. Hopefully when I add drabbles to it, it will come together. Or maybe I need to edit it more then half heartly?

Next up: Kidnapping a Blood Angel, of course without Sanguinuis' knowledge of course!

#warhammer 40k #ao3 writer #dimension travel #roboute guilliman #xi!roboute #not edited #the missing primarchs #time travel #will add more later

A Guide on How to Save Your Family By the XIII Turn XI Primarch - Part 4

The shuttle settled into the Marshes of Eckery with a dying sigh.

Robel had held tight to the control console for the whole, uncomfortable, ride. Inprints of his nails were embedded into it. Scarred Fingers unclenched and, shakily, he stood up from the pilot's seat. The relief he felt when he looked behind him and found II had been unmoved and still sat nice and still in the corner where he had left him, was great.

The shuttle had not taken the act of reentrance into an atmosphere kindly. Shakes, shuttered, and dips to one side and then to the other. He had gone through at lot of shit, he wasn't going to lie, and say he hadn't. But damn, that ride give him a greater respect for Adetpus Mechanicus for their work. Because clearly whoever worked on this shuttle was not part of their order.

The marshes bubbled and the black water swayed as the shuttle hit the planet surface and settled further and further into said water. Small waves battered against the hull before slowly going still. The floor was sinking and giving out underneath him and it was him butterflies in his stomach. Standing up, he used the back of the chair as a brace as he walked to II. Walking against the slip and side of the Shuttle; he froze suddenly as there was a give.

A drop.

The shuttle was dipping to one-sided and Robel worked fast in getting him and II off of it. There was a rolling and a rocking and at a speed that he did not like; the shuttle was rolling to the side. He tore opened one of the windows with a few well placed punches and climbed out onto the side.

The water was still and covered in moss and trees that were both standing and broken from the Shuttle's last landing. There weren't any scales or eyes that were catching the light that he could see but that didn't mean that there wasn't anything underneath it. Eyes darted fast and the nervous tick of biting his lips started to leave scars on his lips again. Where to land and where jump? Would a broken tree stump hold him and II's weight? How deep was the water? Can the cradle hold up in the water?

Metal groaned underneath him and the creaking and cracking of metal and plastic had him wide eyed. There was pop and shattering of glass as the windshield giveaway and Robel shouldered II and jumped. He aimed on a thick broken tree truck that was floating with moss and other trees near by. The landing was heavy and shaky and had Robel straddling the truck and clutching it with one hand and holding II's sack tight.

He released his breath that he had unknowingly been holding as he looked over his shoulder.

The Shuttle slipped under the water with a quietness that should be not possible for something that big.

Turning away from the now empty space, he scooted along the trunk and slowly made his way to the other trees. He was pretty sure that they landed near the main land. When he was sure the tree wouldn't roll out from underneath him, he reached into II's sack and pulled out his Bounty Hunting Dataslate.

He wasn't going hunting a Bounty Hunting but he was hunting someone.

The World Eaters were on this Planet for a Planetary War against the Orks and The Blood Angels were going to be offering aid. He wanted nothing to do with the Blood Angels but he did have a bone to pick with Angron and he held information that he needed. At least he hoped he had the information. If not, that would be a set back. A big one at that.

There on his screen was two glowing dots. One blinking blue one, him, and one solid red, Angron.

The red dot was to the east of him and wasn't that far.

Angron wouldn't set up his camp and battle fronts near the water edge or within the area of the water. With him being that close could mean too things: one, Robel was behind enemy lines and the Orks were somewhere around him. Not a situation that he wanted to be in and certainly not with II with him. The other option was land was close and Angron was either being pushed back or Angron was just entrenching himself and his sons between the water and the Orks that would need it soon enough.

Robel looked around and then looked to the east; the marshes were quiet, too quiet. He looked down at the trunk and slowly stood up on it, he wobbled to left and then to right before he righted himself, the trunk was so thick it held his weight without turning and slowly he started to walk. His spear was strapped to his back and with quick shift of II; he was able to grab of said spear and his knife.

He kept an eye of the dataslate. Angron wasn't moving.

The thick tree trunk came to a stop and he jumped to another one. That soon ran out, and he made a jump again. Soon that happened again and he jumped again. He was walking sideways of Angron's placement as he walked the makeshift bridge.

Fish jumped in the water and a few snakes slivered along the surface. The thick canopy of the trees that were standing swayed in the wind. Robel watched the few places that he could see the sky, and the sky every time he caught sight of it, was getting darker and darker.

The red dot of the dataslate was getting closer and closer.

He got an alert from the Guild.

In large bulky letters with the Emergency signals all around it.

Alert! Alert!

Thankfully he put it on silent.

Alert! Alert!

Orbital bombardment ordered! Twenty-four hours before first hit! Please evacuate the planet! This message will repeat.

Robel blinked. So that's why Angron wasn't moving he couldn't if he didn't want to risk getting blasted because he didn't tell the crews manning the Orbital Bombs were he was. Stay in place and let the first wave of bombs through then move on with the objectives.

Twenty-four hours. Not a lot of time but he would make due. He always did.

–X–X–X–X–

When Robel finally reached the land the sky had fallen into night and there were more warships in Orbit then there was stars. His legs were caked in mud and leaves and grass clung to it like it was some kind of glue. It was itchy and the need to get a bath and clean him, his fur, and give II a good wipe down, was neatly added to his to do list.

He pulled on II - readjusting him as he read the dataslate.

He really needed to get some straps for II's fur sack and make it a backpack or something. Because carrying him along like Robel was some kind traveling Hobo from the old stories and TV shows his mother would show him when he was young, was getting tiring. He would carry II as long as II needed to be carried there was no doubt about that – but the way the carrying was being done could have some work done.

Angron, he studied the map, should be just over that ridge. Looking up and looking at the ridge; he noticed a few things. The ridge was torn up to hell and back and Ork bodies littered it. There was some living Orks that were moving and groaning as they laid in the mud and gore, Robel was quick to hide behind a the body of a fallen World Eater that had yet been collected, as they crawled away to behind their lines.

Moving away from that area, he followed the very edges of the battlefield, and when he crested the ridge the camp of the World Eaters stood tall and below him.

World Eaters camp.

Normally, such a sight would be a cause of alarm.

World Eaters, enough to make a camp, surely the raging Daemon Prince the Red Angel wasn't too far away! Get the men ready and clear out the camp before there is a chance that the traitor Angron come calling!

But here? The camp was quiet. No tortured screams, no yells beyond those that came of the apothecary area. It was a Great Crusade Camp in the height of said Crusade.

He watched the patrols and there wasn't many. They stuck to a path that strayed away from one part of the camp that housed one tent. Budded up against the rocks of the ridge was the tent of Angron.

Robel stayed in the shadows as he traveled and every flicker of light had him tensing.

Slipping into the tent was easy. Which, truthy, put his hackles on edge. It should not be the easy to get into a Primarch's tent and yet here he was.

Angron was in his bed.

Silent as the dead and his head turned away from him. The Butcher Nails stood out against his scalp and was caught in the faint light as he slipped underneath the tent canvas and into the tent proper.

He stood there looking at his brother.

Biting his lip again, he turned to what he was looking for, the dataslate of Angron.

The tent was sparse. The power armor was to one side and the bed was across from it on the other side, there was bags full of clothes that Angron didn't unpack and some food stuff scattered around.

The dataslate was next to Angron on the floor charging.

Setting II on the packed earth floor, he crawled over the dataslate, and sat there; leaning against the bed with the dataslate glow turned as low as it would go, Robel got to work.

Lorgar.

Where was Lorgar?

The north-west region. Robel leaned closer, his fingers sliding through the pages faster then base-lines would have been able to keep up. He wasn't that far, in the grand scheme of things, just a few systems away from where he was. It would have been a simple trip if he had access to Warp Travel. Which did not in fact have Warp Travel access.

He bit back a curse that wanted to rip through his already torn throat.

Hopefully, Lorgar slow way of conquering would still hold true and he wouldn't move by the time he got there.

Robel sat the dataslate back on the floor and stood up.

He turned around then and really looked at his brother.

His brother. The brother who was insane without any fault of his own, the brother who wished for death but it would not be given to him, the brother who could have been kind and was kind at one point but that was ripped away from him. Everything was ripped away from him. Chances at true brotherhood, a chance to a father to the sons were marching to war with him, a chance to just be himself, all gone because of those nails.

The Butcher's Nails.

Robel's hand went to the Nails without him noticing.

The Great Crusade could go on without Angron.

The Legion would still crusade, the Legion would still live, and Robel knows there was a stash of geneseed that the Emperor had tucked away. An orphan legion would be fine, the others would care for them, he knows his other self would at least offer aid.

Fingers ran down the Nails, where metal met skin, and hovered there.

Should he?

Angron wouldn't be mad at him in any case.

Their brothers... Some would curse him, call him a murderer, a killer of a brother. Others would nod their heads and understand why he did what he did.

The Emperor.

Robel swallowed.

Best not to think on what the Emperor would do if he found out one of his sons was slain by another when he wasn't bound to Terra and that Throne.

But...

A hand hovered over the head of Angron and the other got ready to pull the nails.

His brother deserved peace. Mercy. A chance to truly rest without rage drowning him and eating him whole.

His hand tightened.

A deep breath.

And a pull.

The Nails weren't that hard to pull out and the Angron didn't stir.

Blood poured from the wounds, dripping onto the pillow, the bed, the floor, and covered the datastale.

Robel stood there in the middle of the room, Nails in one hand and he stared.

Slowly his hand went to Angron's face.

"Goodbye brother, rest well, be at peace," all those saying were on his mind as he touched Angron's cheek.

Pain.

Burning, searing, sharp. His head. Oh, his head. It was being rubbed raw! It was being pierced by something he couldn't see. Sharp! Sharp! Pain! That was all he could think. Something was dragging across his skull! He could feel it in the bone!

A scream that would never leave his throat but there and burning.

His eyes teared up as something wet dripped down his back and clung to his hair.

The hand that was still on Angron had dug in as the pain made it's way through him, he didn't mean too make the scratches but they were there. Beads of blood welded up at the skin.

And yet...

The wounds caused by the Nails were healing.

Healing.

The pain started to release it's hold on him and he took a deep breath. Gasping like a fish out of water as he stared at his brother healing from wounds that had been declared unsurvivable.

His chest moved up and down and he rolled over.

Sound asleep.

Like nothing happened.

Robel fell to the ground.

His hand went to the back of his head and while tinder, and with hair full of blood, he was fine. Fine. Like– like that sudden pain never happened!

Angron snored.

Reaching out with a shaking hand, he ran a finger across the scratch on his cheek, light and nothing more then a tickle if that.

A burn started on his own cheek as the one of Angron's healed.

He snatched his hand back and stumbled. He tripped of II and landed in the puddle made up of both his and Angron's blood.

He healed Angron.

What?

He looked at II.

This changed everything. Everything.

Alert! Alert!

Orbitcal Bombarement in four hours!

He needed to get out off the planet and he needed to get off of it now!

Standing on shaky legs. He grabbed his spear and head out of the tent. II was still in his sack on the floor. When Angron woke up, he wouldn't miss him and he could take him to the Emperor and II could get a good life. It wasn't what he was planning but – Angron would be sane or at least confused as hell and he would call someone. Sanguinius was already on his way so there wasn't much he need to worry about was there?

He slid under the tent and once again he was in the night air. He stood there, back against the tent, and fresh air filling his lungs.

Lorgar.

He need to hunt down Lorgar.

He could think about what happened in there later. Much later. When he wasn't on a time crunch.

Use the spear as a cane, he only made it so far, as a pain lit up in his chest. It was at his hearts, it burned, it ached, and he fell to his knees clutching his chest as his hearts tried to beat out of said chest.

Fuck.

Fuck!

He turned back to the tent.

For some reason, his mind was jumping to II, like II need him. Needed him now.

So he went.

Burning chest and aching hearts. He went back to II and pulled him back into his arms. With II settled back into his arms, the pain went away, as sudden as it came it went.

Angron was still asleep.

There wasn't any World Eater's near by.

He shoulder II again and walked again. There was no pain this time and as he crossed the ridge and went to where he could see shuttles; he looked back.

Hopefully, Angron wouldn't freak out too much.

----

So this is what happened with Angron! This takes place before part three so if you want to read that it's there.

I pumped this out pretty fast so I'm happy there. I liked how to turned out but it does change how I rewrite 'part 3' so that will take a little more time but Oh Well! And yes, Robel, the tiny seven year old looking child joined the bounty hunting guild. Take that as you will.

Thoughts?

#warhammer 40k #ao3 writer #xi!roboute #not edited #dimension travel #the missing primarchs #angron #Healed Angron though he is asleep so #I need Sangs reaction #time travel

The way the 2nd and 11th Primarchs died wasn't something one talks about lightly.

When the Primarchs were scattered into the Warp and taken all over the galaxy, they landed on their new planets within the same three days. For some reason the Warp decided to keep the 2nd and 11th Primarchs longer, a hundred years longer. When the Warp released the two, it was not to a nice planet like their 13th brother got, nor was it one that had people to take them in like many other brothers got.

The planet they got was a wild one. Untamed and with two settlements that weren't really settlements but a smuggling stop over for pirates, slavers, and merchants that were somewhere in the middle. Nights were cold like ice and forest were hot with humidity, the animals were not kind with prey animals known to kill as much as those who hunted them. The water was a mild poison, the rain stung, and there was the permanent smell of iron in the air.

When the two pods fell from the sky, in was midday and, unsurprisingly, no one around to witness it. One pod hit the ground and rolled till it came to a stop against a bolder. It shook and shuddered and little hand pressed against the tinted viewing glass before it fell away and stilled. The another pod with XI carved into it pulsed and the glass casing shattered and a little body fell out. There was hacking, there was some coughing, and was one lone sneeze before the little thing lifted its head.

It blinked it's bright blue eyes and sneezed again as it came face to face with the evil with called pollen. It looked at its hands and flexed them, It did the same for Its toes, and then It tugged on Its blonde hair. It flinched at the pain that went with It and then It sat on the forest floor.

It looked around, and when it spotted the other pod, It tried to get to it. It tried to walk but fell, It tried to crawl but Its legs didn't work the way it needed it to. It laid there and it was then that It watched animal -- something would be called a near deer creature by Terra standard's -- walked by, the creature was followed by something small with stubby legs and a tail swinging slowly but contently.

It studied it and then looked down at It's legs and got onto all fours and then It looked back at the little thing. The little thing looked over at It and it took a step and then Little Pod Being took it's own step. It followed what the little thing was doing and then It made it's way to unopen pod.

It placed it's hand on that tinted glass and waited. Nothing happened, it waited a little longer, still nothing happens. The pod II laid quiet and still.

The Little Pod Being leans back and stairs at It's fellow who won't wake.

And then It hears a growl.

Deep and throat, long and harsh, the Little Pod Being turns around and faces a scrappy wolf. The wolf growled and the Little Pod Being leaned back, it's back hitting the other Pod. The smooth round exterior budded up against It's back and cool to the touch. It was unexpected and caused the Little Being to flinch.

The flinch caused the wolf to lunge.

The Little Being rolled away at the last moment and then rolled again when the wolf tried to come down on it. There was a stick, more like a thin branch that was snapped off in the middle of a storm, on the ground next It when It rolled.

It looked at the stick and then at the wolf that was still coming at It.

It grabbed the stick and waited for the next lunge. The wolf lunged and the Little Being stabbed the stick into it.

Red warm liquid dripped down the stick it the Little Being's hands. The wolf went limp and the Little Being stared at that warm liquid. It then licked it.

Salty, metal, and thick.

That was the Little Pod Being's -- the XIth Primarchs -- daily life for the next seven years. Till the planets version of a bear takes offense to the Little Pod Being's life. It died as it lived defending the Pod that was unopened.

The Bear's claws came across the Little Bing's chest and split it open. An injury like that is hard to survive as an adult Primarch. A child? It passed from the galaxy just a moment later.

That should have been the end of it. The XIth Primarch dead to an animal when young, never learning speech or anything real about what it was like to live. Never knowing the man It was to call Father, nor any brothers that wasn't the unopen Pod.

But it wasn't the end.

As the dual hearts stopped and eyes stared up at the sky unseeing. Something happened.

The hearts started again, breath came in pain puffs, and healing was speeding up.

XIth was dead.

But the XIIIth who was set to die in a war ten thousand years in the future wasn't. At least not anymore.

#ao3 writer #warhammer 40k #The missing Primarchs #Animal Death #main character death #child death #dimension travel #time travel #roboute guilliman #snippet #will add more later #XI!Roboute #not edited #Will make a part two

Reclaiming update

The ships slipped between star and rocks with a speed and cared that was expected and not.

The care on the other hand was not expected.

But maybe it have been.

Trajann Valoris couldn't stop the surprise that tried to take hold of him as the small ship stayed close to the sides of the other ships.

"I wonder," His Lord whispered from where He sat. His closed eyes were still closed but His head was tilted in such away that it looked like He was trying to get a better look at something.

Maybe He was.

The understanding was simple: the Imperium above all.

Beacuse if the Emperor had bound Himself to the throne for humanity – how could they just sit back and watch it all be taken and stay stolen?

When Guilliman awoke. When the title of 'Regent' was placed upon his shoulders and there was light for once in ten thousand years – Trajann knew what to do.

Knew what was important.

The Imperium above all.

Even if you death just lays the foundation of something greater: the Imperium comes first.

If only he had taken those steps sooner.

"The little one. It looks like Justinian's ship." His Lord had stood up from the command chair and had walked to stand next to him.

"Justinian?" The name fell form his own lips with ease and the hint of familiarity. Even if he didn't know the name or had even said it before.

"Justinian was one of my Custodes that fought Shamlock and Beau."

A golden brother that had been lost to time.

"Till now." He found himself saying.

That was true. But still – if there was a chance then why not take it? "Is there a way to check if it is?" Trajann asked before he could stop himself.

"A hailing." Was his answer. It was quick and brought that closed eyed look back to him. "We could try a hailing, though there is no guarantee that there will be an answer back."

"We must try." Trajann said. His own eyes darted to the control console and even to the Hailing Center that just needed a number to dial in for that very try to be given a chance.

It was his Lord that typed in the numbers and it was Him that stood in front of the Hailing Camera.

For a few long moments – there was nothing but a dialing tone.

In those moments, the thought that there would be no answer, was clear in his mind.

Click –

There was nothing but harsh breathing.

The Breathing stopped.

"He was my only one. The last one standing."

"Rob – Robou issss Deeadd?" The words were being tripped over. The words were being dragged out. The voice was a fading nearly vibrating thing that didn't seem to understand language anymore.

Trajann did not suck in a breath. He did not move. But he would not deny the ache that came from those words.

The Lord Regent was dead.

And soon the Imperium would follow him.

They killed him, they made their bed, now it was time for them to lay in it.

"Yes," his Lord spoke with a finality that must have hurt.

"Whhyyys?"

"Because of many reasons." There was a pause. "Justinian, are you with Commander Alaric and Commander Isen?"

"Theeeyyy Allwayss here."

"Tell them: I will wake their fathers with no strings attached."

"Lord?"

There was rustling and shifting.

Claws scrapping across the walls, buttons that needed oiled being pushed, and creaking and groans that was being heard over the Hailing.

"You speak truth?"

That was not the broken voice that they were listening to speak.

His lord took a small step forward. "I speak the truth."

Silence and then, "Follow us."

The Hailing cut off.

His Lord stared at that empty screen. "They have him." He settled on. "The Hive has Justinian."

"My Lord," Trajann didn't know what to say. Didn't know how one comforts their lord as the new that the Hive that took His sons and their Legions, took one of His most loyal.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

Luck was on their side.

Trajann stood in front of the radar as the Commander Ships and the Lost Custodes Ship – the Stolen One, as some of his brothers have taken calling Justinian, the Stolen Brother – started to slow.

"We are getting the same thing over here." One of the Raven Guard Chapter Master brothers pointed out.

Over the last week, there both was many changes and not.

Trajann nodded. "Thank you, I have received the same readings." He turned behind him. "My Lord, gravity distortion up ahead."

His Lord was currently back in the Captain's Chair and was watching with closed eyes.

"Keep your eyes open. Procced with caution." He ordered.

Trajann nodded and turned to the Chapter Masters. "Procced with caution."

And that was what they did.

They came around a Dwarf Planet that was nothing but sand and ash and everything seemed to freeze.

There, floating around a ship that should not called a ship because of how large it was – a planet might fit it better – were two Imerpium Flagships.

Both per-Horus Heresy.

Both having one of the numbers 'II' and 'XI' on them.

"My Lord –" Trajann didn't know what to say. Was that the Mother Ship?

He had heard rumors about the size of the ships that tryinaids used. About their Mother Ships had the largest of their fleets. Surely, this ship was larger then any of them combined.

His Lord did not say a word. In fact, his Lord stood up and walked to the Bridge windows, with a hand slowly reaching out.

"Hail all ships! Hail them now!"

His fingers flew across the dials, buttons, and screens.

That Large Ship put Dwarf Planets to shame and most likely even small planets that bore the title planet to shame.

Cloth.

Like the sails of a ship.

"Or at least make a kind of contact." The last Chapter Master, the Raven Guard that was taller then the smallest Primarchs, spoke at last.

It was not said that the guns of their ships were ready to fire and pull free the flagships. Or at least give it a try.

"Halt all movements!" His Lord called out. "Do not approach."

Move.

That wasn't the right word.

Shift. Shake. Shudder. None of those were right either.

No.

The Ship that held the Flagships in it's orbit with literal chains that Trajann could now see; was waking up.

Like blood learning to flow again.

There was a beat in that glow.

A best that even in a ship and outside of the Gravity Well, Trajann could feel underneath his feet.

"Astates! Keep your distance! Commander Alaric and Commander Isen, keep still and wait on command to get to your fathers! The chains need to disengage before we board them!"

There was a coarse of 'Yes, My Lord,' a lone 'Yes, Sir,' and two hums, and no ship moved.

"Valoris!" His Lord called. "I need you to keep an open line of communication open. No censor. No filter. Open air right now!"

And that was what he did.

The Hailing was open to anyone to answer if they were in reach of the signal.

"Lazarus." His lord spoke in a soft voice. "Lazarus it's been a long time hasn't it?"

The chains shook as the Beast seemed to shift to them.

Trajann could only imagine the sound that the chains made as they moved. The thunder that was surely coming from them as they shivered and raddled against other links.

"Uncle?" A quiet, tired voice, came from the Hailing Screen.

"Lazarus, it is me." The Dark King took a step forward and then another and another till He was standing in from of the screen and the recorder.

"You – You look different." It was a child voice, or maybe closer to a young adult, a young man still waiting for his voice to finish settling.

"Yes, I say that I would. It's been twelve thousand years." There was a pause. "Fourteen at the longest."

"I didn't stop looking." Lazarus, the captain of the Beast, said. He had to be the captain because who else could be?

His Lord nodded. "When we stopped hearing from you and then about you – we knew you were looking."

"Laz–" His Lord started.

"Thank you for looking out for them." His Lord spoke.

"They were all I had." Lazarus got real quiet and then, "Are you taking them away?"

His Lord took in a deep breath.

"Lazarus!" His Lord yelled. His voice and command broke through the panicking of the captain. "Do you have a list of how many siblings and when they went offline?"

There was sniffle. "Yes."

"Good. I want that list." There was pause. "The ships. They are mine. They are my sons. They have been gone for a long time. I'm waking them up. If they follow me or go is up to them."

"Cousins?"

A half smile was the answer. "Your father may have called Malcador my whore more then once, but I was the one who had twenty-one sons. Not him."

"Twenty-one! Papa didn't even have that many of us!" The back tracking. "Papa only called him a whore because he was your 'yes man'. And it was out of love anyway." That last part was tacked on.

"Yes, Maverick always said we needed to be brought down a peg or two less we float away as hot air balloons." The Dark King shook his head. "He was right."

"What?"

Lazarus took a deep shaky breath. "What footsteps did you follow?"

His Lord didn't answer for a moment. "Do you know the Imperium of Man?"

"No."

But – his Lord did say it had been twelve or fourteen thousand years since that had last seen each other. They were ancient. Larazus and the ship. Far older then the Imperium.

Trajann looked at the Beast.

Was it a product of the Age of Technology?

"We have much to speak on." The Dark King settled on. "I would like to get my sons and bring them aboard with your permission."

"Aboard me?" The confusion was nearly physical.

"Neutral grounds. You have been the one guarding them have you not?" The smile was back. "I thank you for that."

"No! No! No, need for thanks! Not between family! Not on this!"

"Yes! You can come aboard. I can't say that there is any food or that the water system is good for drinking. So bring that."

"We will."

It was with that that the Hailing Call was disconnected and his Lord turned to him.

"Get shuttled ready and get over there now."

Trajann bowed and the hurried to do just that.

X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X_X

The inside of the flagships were full of nothing but memories.

That was what Trajann settled on as he went deeper and deeper through the hallwyas of the Second Legion.

The Commander, Commander Alaric, had enter the ship before anyone and had long since beaten everyone to his father.

Trajann wondered what they looked like.

All the Astartes with dressed for battle with helmets and weapons raised. Nothing could be seen as a weakness in the armor was seen.

Though, "All units," He spoke to his Vox, "When the Primarch awakes. Please stay clear of the Astartes. There maybe pressure on the weapons and that might activate them when they wake."

He got a course of 'yes, sirs,' before he moved on.

"Father. Come on, Father. You've been sleeping for too long."

If Trajann didn't know who the man was or what made him be as he was; he would have called Commander Alaric a raving lunatic. Pleading to a man not going wake.

But Commander Alaric was no mad man or raving lunatic, just a desperate Astartes trying to wake his Primarch.

"As you heard over the the Hailing, we are going to Captain Lazarus. I believe the waking of your father will happen on his ship." Trajann spoke as he came around the corner.

Lord Shamlock was pale of skin but was black of hair.

The stories of Konrad Curze and Corvus Corax come to mind.

"Stop gawking." Commander Alaric growled out.

Trajann looked over at him slowly.

"I did not mean offense." Trajann spoke as he took a few steps back.

"You a Custodes. You mean all the offense and apology." Was his answer.

Trajann bit back the defense for his brothers.

"Come," he said he stepped to the other side of the Primarch. "We'll carry him out to the shuttle and aboard the ship. Then he will awake."

Commander Alaric growled but helped nonetheless in the carrying of his father.

So, the mystery of Maverick deepens. Also yes, we will see maverick again in 'A guide'.

This is hot of the typer and not at all edited. So if there is anything major that needs to be edited and fixed ASAP then point them out. Please and thank you.

So here is Shamlock. Asleep like a princess and is getting kidnapped to his cousin, who is not all that he appears to be.

I have a few AU Ideas that I'll most likely post about tomarrow. You have that to look forward too.

This took me forever to wright and I do not look forward to going back and editing it and adding details that I know need to be added here and there. 'Tis is the pain of writing I guess.

Thoughts?

Tagged: @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @sleepyfan-blog @ladysmugleaf

#the missing primarchs

Trending Tags

Recently Viewed Tags

#the missing primarchs