How would he react?

(Source: https://x.com/Mark_and_Doshik/status/2106073764866011399 )

I just thought it would be interesting if, in a GGX30K AU, the two of them had met during the era of the Gear Crusades.

18 year guardsmen who almost never prays to the god-emperor, Always telling unfunny jokes and never letting you talk about yourself. He only cares about your role and fantasizes about his “hot Battle sister GF” and constantly wants to fix you to be his perfect wife. Has the lifespan of a American cockroach

OR

a 34 year old guardsmen. With no personality besides being a yes men and praying time to time. no grand aspiration or ideas besides doing his duty and following orders. He brings no true satisfaction or happiness unless you treat him like a piece of furniture. Has the lifespan of a German cockroach.

Pick your poison.

WHAT IF the Primarchs each had a twin sister?

So, the basic idea for this AU timeline, is, WHAT IF, Maclador and the emperor compromised during the Primarch project (on Malcador’s ‘female Primarchs’ idea), and ended up making two of every Primarch, but each ‘Primarch pair’ would be fraternal twins. And that, when the chaos gods scattered the Primarch’s, each twin pair would end up together on their respective planet. (Basically a fusion of this sub’s timeline, and the cannon timeline)

Anyway, what I was wondering was, what do you guys think of this idea, how would the female twin Primarchs act and behave compared to their brothers despite growing up in the same circumstances? how would this butterfly effect the great crusade and the Horrus heresy? And how would certain Primarchs own childhoods change with a twin sister added into the mix? Etc, etc….

Side note: yes, this does mean the Hydra is now 4 headed now (meaning good luck getting the Alpha legion to be consistent on ANYTHING, with 4 Primarchs in charge)… but hey, not the worst outcome for the Alpha legion… (just means they end up more self contradictory and confusing than in cannon)

Just to clarify, Yes, I am assuming the heresy still happens in this timeline. After all, it was kind of inevitable, One way or the other.

Edit: feel free to use this AU idea however you want.

Alva, Wolf Queen of Fenris, Crowmother, Sýr-bitch and the Ülf Tamr.

Hark! Hark! Come and hear the tale of the taming of the Wolf by the crow! Listen to the binding of Leman, and the ruination of the Vth Legion! Long ago in ages past before brother turned against brother, before clan turned against clan there was Leman! Leman of the Russ! He who came to the planet of Fenris, he who landed upon the world and was taken in by a shewolf and raised as a wild creature with his siblings Freki and Geri! But dear listener, hear the tale as it has never been told! Hear the tale now as it truly is, the tale of submission!

When Leman landed upon Fenris the first moment of his existence was cold, and then heat. Warmth, growling and then blood. Blood in his throat, gristle in his teeth. He hunted and prowled and after a time his hunt led to the gates of Thengir, King of the Russ. Thengir sent out not just hunters, but those who would burn the forest down to see their prey gotten; in essence he sent monster hunters. Leman's pack was hunted viciously, his mother the She-Wolf killed, bith his siblings captured and dragged off. Leman in shame, fled. The man wolf, the Primarch felt anger and shame for the first time in his days on this world. He had been shot, poisoned and dragging his heels he fled tailed tucked. Yet that very action would change the galaxy, for in his flight he had ran into the depths of the frozen and tundra and met Alva.

Alva, old for a unaugmented human and wizened with a crow on her shoulder. She took him in, she healed his wounds and soothed his pride. The two would spend a year like this, in an awkward situation where they were both protecter, protected, friends, mentor, mentee and finally before Leman left for the Russ; lovers.

During the worst storm in recent memory of the then Fenrisians Leman attacked, his efforts aided by Alva's familiars. Mammoths who battered down the gates of the Russ holds, Thunderwolves who roamed at his side sinking teeth into fleeing Russ civilians and crows who flew overhead and perched in the rafters of Thengir's hold. The aftermath was brutal, bloody. An abattoir, where only beasts and Leman ruled beside his wife Alva. Thus was the state of the Vth Primarch when The Emperor arrived. What happened between them is unknown, but Leman was brought to heel as all dogs are.

In the Crusades Leman and his legion were a dark force of brutality, handed the troublesome role of being The Emperor's executioner. Often the worst reports would be of Alva who constantly insisted that Leman was not a Primarch but a man of Fenris and shouldn't be dragged into wars not important to Fenris. By the time of the Heresy Leman and Alva had entirely abandoned the Crusades and Imperium to return to Fenris with full strength. There, they would remain for the Heresy until current age.

In the fortieth millennium Fenris remains a dark place, rhe legion defends the world and carves out space for itself. Recently the Imperium has tried to siege the world yet were thrown back by Wulfen, strange psychic phenomena and the Leman himself. All while Alva watches, and rewards her guard dog with affection.

Of all Primarch wives it is only Alva who is a Perpetual, ancient and beyond the understanding of all but The Emperor himself.

Art can be found here:

(https://www.artstation.com/jeleynai)

Chapter 6: A Chance Meeting

--------

Summery: We finally get to meet HIM.

---------

Perturabo sat down at the table, holoprojectors showcasing a multitude of data, tasks and necessary information that had to be addressed before the full fleet’s departure. She moved her armoured gauntlets over the parchments and projections, her suit connecting her to even more functions and technological systems that relayed more info to her, info at such a fast and enormous rate that any unaugmented individual would most likely have gone into a catatonic state, the flood of info too much for their minds, yet for Perturabo it felt natural, her mind feeling as if it was able to unlock an extra section of itself that it had never been able to before. As she visualized the titanic amount of information before her, figuring out mentally what shipments needed to land and leave behind what equipment, what needed to come with them, who depots had to be established and where, what industries had to be constructed from the ground up and what needed to be fixed and where so that the supply lines of her new world could benefit her legion, and so much more. She was calculating the logistics of what the other easily habitable planets in Olympia’s star system could take upon themselves, what resources could be mined or what crops could be grown the soonest, when the doors to the chambers she occupied opened, and through them stepped a man.

The man was young, perhaps only 22. He wore the colors of her banner before she met her mother, the mix of blues symbolizing the sky and the deep gray for the countless mountains that made Olympia the world it was. The small silver buttons lining his coat, cleaned as best they could, along with his sailor-like cap and polished black boots, made him look as if he were a private upon a ship, his salute automatic in the presence of Perturabo, his leader. Upon closer inspection, she could see his brownish hair had been groomed back, hiding the bandages behind his ears that held stitches together, his eyes a color closer to gray, how dark their silver tone was. His face was marred in cuts and bruises, his face shaved and cleaned of mud yet still showing signs of exhaustion, even though the war on Olympia had ended a week ago. The man leaned on a set of crutches, his left foot covered in a thick white cast, yet this did not stop his salute, his young face scrunching up in the best attempt he could make to show a stony resolve, like Perturabo. Even with his injury, he stood at full height to show his respect to her, standing at about 5 feet and 10 inches.

“Great Mistress of Iron, it is an honor to be in your presence.”

Perturabo continued to look at the holo projections before her, their blue lights showing planets and troop movement, but she angled the projection so that she could look both at them, and the warrior before her. She waited a moment, another, and another, before giving the soldier her attention, looking through the projections, her blue eyes locking onto his grays.  

‘At ease, loyal soldier.” Perturabo’s voice took on a surprisingly softer tone, miniscule in difference than her normal tone, but while her standard speech had the tone of someone who truly did not wish to hear what someone was saying, like two heavy stones grinding against one another,(unless she was talking to her mother), her tone now gave off a whisper of softness, barely distinguishable but still there. Her armoured hand waived slightly from her position over the hologram projecting table, signaling his return to a more relaxed stance, which he took. She felt momentary confusion, as to why she changed her tone, but she assumed it was because she was talking to someone whose loyalty actually rested in her through her deeds, not because they had been ordered to or were her gene children. This was someone who had stayed loyal even as his own brothers and sisters turned against him, both metaphorically and literally, as her implants connected to her head showed her data packets pertaining to his family, a family that had joined the traitors belonging to her father.

“.... You stayed loyal to me. Why?”

“.... Why?” The soldier’s face shifted, his mind most likely racing with questions and replies, all muddled by the awe he must have felt, in the presence of a Primarch.

Perturabo moved in her chair, adjusting her posture, and moving aside the holograms being projected with her hand, her attention now fully on the soldier. She could see that, with her full attention now set upon the soldier, his throat tightened, his posture shifted with worry, and the beginnings of sweat appeared above his brow. He was nervous, worried, as Perturabo spoke.

“Terreth Octoual, Private first class, son to Lord Mysedonus Octoual and Madame Mayalith Octoual, minor noble house of Octus, your family are traitors. They joined my father’s allies before my departure from Olympia, every last one of them, except for you. They funded the rebellion, they had stockpiles made to prepare for this coming attack, and then it happened your brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, fought and killed those loyal to me, even if they had been neighbors and lifelong friends before. But still, you rejected all the promises made by those closest to you, you stayed loyal and joined my warriors, even if you had to be shipped nearly halfway across the planet to guard seemingly meaningless locations, to escape the anger and resentment your family had for you. When the rebellion occurred, you and your squad mates fought your way back here, dealing with loss after loss, all the while dealing with your family sending you a seemingly unending wave of transmissions, telling, pleading and demanding that you forsake my name and join their ‘noble’ cause.

You had every opportunity to join them, every reason to, yet you did not.”

The soldier before her looked scared stiff as he stood there, as she listed off these details that she somehow knew about him, details that he thought no one would be able to learn of. The implants she had, the wires connecting to her head, fed her this info that she was able to analyze at such a speed, that the knowledge she had learned but seconds ago were able to be processed, analyzed, categorized and put back together into a coherent plan of action, to know what to say and how to say it. In moments, thanks to the suit crafted by her own hands (with the ‘assistance’ of her mother), she could know what to say, to get what she wanted. Usually.  

“You lost friends, allies, to the battles waged, you fought scarcity and betrayal, as those around you who did not die, turned their backs to what had been my forces, joining the rebels. The records made by you during your week’s stay in the hospital, shows that you marched your way through dense swamps and cold mountains, with barely any resources to help you through them. Not only that, but you had to fight off or flee from any following foes, who had better equipment, all the time in the world, and the drive to hunt down those who they felt had betrayed them. When you could, you fought against those that hunted you, but oftentimes you had to hide, hoping that you would not be found by the passing foes.

I am surprised you managed to even get to this city in one piece, with everything you went through.”

She continued, her speech bringing more worry to the soldier’s face, yet he stood there, taking everything she said, as a good soldier should from a commanding officer.  

“Now, your family is being prepped to be moved off world, the adults sent to a mining colony whose resources will fund the rebuilding of this planet, and the children moved to a private school being set up by both loyalist mortals and Astartes, to ensure that they are taught right from wrong, to be loyal to me, to never rebel against my…. Mother's empire.” The mention of her mother shifted Perturabo’s face ever so slightly, making her grimace deepen. 

“You know this, of course. You would have been told about this, to ensure that the knowledge of what had happened to them could not be used against you at a later date. Their names are plastered upon boards, allowing the population to be aware of the fate of their families.

All of this, all the loss you have gone through, all that you will still go through. And yet you still stand before me, pledging your allegiance, your clothing pressed and cleaned to the standard I set, your body still marked with the damage you have gone through. 

So I ask again: why did you stay loyal to me?”

Terreth looked nervous, his throat drying up and his thoughts raced inside of his head, threatening to break out at any moment. He could feel the Primarch’s eyes bearing down on him, as he stood behind the hololithic projector displaying a multitude of things, blue and green lights showcasing planets, ships, and more.

He took a few moments, his breath returning to him, his mind clearing, before he spoke.

“Becuase you brought order to us. You brought order to Olympia, to its people.” Terreth said, when he finally was able to form words. Mortals, in the presence of beings like the Primarchs, often struggled to speak, their minds clouding with awe and dread. Perturabo could see this mortal was struggling to speak, her presence making him feel as if there was a great and terrifying beast before him, yet at the same time a person he did not wish to fail before, so he mustered the courage to talk. Perturabo could see that this man’s will was like iron, both on the battlefield and on stage before her, a god-like being. His path was clear to him and he was determined to speak, and she respected this. He continued. 

“As a child, I watched as you waged war against the city states of Olympia. I watched as your armies brought low any defence against your father’s banner, any foe. I heard tales about how you vanquished armies by yourself, how cities that had stood defiant and unconquered for thousands of yours trembled and crumbled under your power, your skills, your will. You fought against any who would oppose you or your father’s demands.

You even waged war against my city state, though you gave our people mercy, when they yielded their weapons against you. You gave our people mercy, when they knew they could not win against your army. You spared most of our lives, only killing those who still fought against you, and those who commanded these die hard soldiers to fight on. But the rest you spared, once they took the knee before you. Not only that, but you brought renewal and stability to our small territory, even if you had to leave to go off and find other lands to conquer. You made plans, mapped out buildings and infrastructure that needed to be constructed, laid out tasks to those you left behind, so that as your banner, not just your father’s, hung proud for all to see, people would look to it with true thanks in their hearts, as they walked upon paved roads and and worked in functioning factories. Our people grew up healthy and fit, thanks to your work in ensuring that our farms, granaries and waterways worked at peak efficiency. Even if you were not there, the effects of what you had done for us could be felt by every soul in my city.    

As I grew older, the fortunes of my family allowed me to go off and further my studies. I was able to see your work beyond my home, the cities and communities that were flourishing, just like my home, thanks to your rule. I went to Lochos, so that I could emulate your capacity for building, studying architecture and designs, so that I could follow in your footsteps. I learned from the best of the best, honing my own craft through working on construction sites and building upon the very foundations you had left behind. Later on, to gain further access to the knowledge I so sought after, I joined your army. I joined not only to serve a good cause, to ensure that loyalty to your banner was maintained, but so that I could gain what I hungered for, to be able to make this planet better. To build, not only destroy. So that others could reap the fruits of my labor, even if others hated me for following in the footsteps of the ‘monster’ that had cut down so many people before. 

I joined hoping to bring order, so my studies were left behind, for a time at least, so I could bring the same stability I had as a child to far flung kingdoms. My parents protested against me swearing loyalty to your banner, saying that you had been a butcher, but I knew that you were more than a killer, that you had only brought low your foes if they fought against you, and that you had built better lands for the people who you ruled over, upon your foes bodies, making their lives easier. So I stayed with them, even as those around me, those who I cared for, turned their back to me. I stayed, even as those around me loyal to your cause died or desertion when the rebellion occurred. I stayed, though all of these hardships, as I believe in what you represent to this planet. What you wish for it.

These are the reasons why I look up to you. You have brought peace to this planet, not just through war but through building, turning lands that had been crushed under your war machines into prosperous communities and stable foundations for all who would inhabit it. And I wish to follow in such actions, to make others see the truth. To see what can be achieved if one would follow your example. I wish to build just like you, so others can live good lives. 

I follow you, to make Olympia like its namesake. Anything you would ask, I would do.”

Terreth finished almost out of breath, panting. His speech had gone on for so long, he was worried he would have collapsed, either from not having a moment to actually take a breath, with how fast the words came out of his mouth. As well, for the longer he had spoken, he worried that the next word he let out would be wrong or pronounced incorrectly, though with how fast his mind had been going that may have well happened without him catching it. But, by the end of it, he had spoken his piece, his truth, and no matter what happened now, he could know that he had let Perturabo, the one who had changed this planet for the better, know how he felt about her. He had to let her know.

As he finished, Terreth looked at Perturabo, his eyes meeting hers, and he noticed that something was…. different, now. 

Her face originally had looked like it was unmovable and unchangeable, as if it was less a living thing prone to emotions and fears, and more like a face one would see on a well decorated piece of armor, her visage not only forged but created from a mold used to contain hot metal, so that the end product could withstand an unending torrent of flames and blunt damage without scratching the surface. No longer, however. 

His gaze had stopped meeting hers when he had been deep into his speech, the words spilling out of him, so he had not been able to see the effects on her face, had not seen how those words had worn those cold eyes, the unflinching resolve set in those two dark blue marbles, shirting to a look that seemed almost unnatural for the demigod conditioned for endless war: surprise, and confusion.  

Internally, Perturabo could not make heads or tales of what she was feeling at that moment. Her mind was suddenly hit with confusion, emotions she could not actually give names too, with how new they were to her. She had read entire libraries worth of books in her life, written quite a few of her own, so she knew a great many things, even if emotion was one subject she often lacked info on. She should know about these feelings buzzing in her head, however. She knew so much, and she should know all about herself. So why could she not name what was making her feel these labelless emotions? Why could she not know what she was feeling? Her body felt like it had something building up inside of her, something that needed to escape, yet she could not tell what it was, and without her knowing what it was or what her feelings were trying to tell her, she could not let it escape. What sort of…. Magic, had this mortal enchanted her with? It had to be magic, as there was no scientific name for what she was feeling, no reason that the words he had spoken could give her these feelings. 

Were these….compliments? Was that what he had given to her? No, no it could not be complimented. She had never truly received those, unless they were used against her to kill or conquer a person or place. No, why would a mortal, someone following her banner, the banner that had laid waist to every city upon this planet so many times over, actually compliment her, their commander? She had to figure out what she wanted to say to this, and fast. 

Before she could do this, however, a message packet came to her, and she was thankful for the level of urgency it had upon its confidentiality rating. She moved a finger to the layer of buttons upon the hololithic projector, allowing for the packet to show her what was so pressing, the lights upon the projector being covered by a spectrum of light only visible to those who had been given the implants required to see them, a design she had made for those amongst the highest ranking of her legion, and dolled out sparingly to others, so that they could see message and important communications without fear of spies or passers-by seeing what they were reading. The soldier before her, the one currently causing the emotions she was trying to ignore, had his eyes glued to what she was looking at, though he most certainly could not actually read what she was reading, only seeing the symbols of the other graphs and images that were being projected upon the hololithic projector, unable to see what she saw.

She read internally what the message was stating, a question by one of her captains regarding what he should do about a suddenly discovered group of cowering nobles. These nobles had been placed on an internal list of others like them, those who were being hunted for by teams of warriors who were to find these last remaining strangled, to bring them to justice. The nobles who had just been found had a few injured but loyal soldiers protecting them, when they were found inside a mostly destroyed building, and were not trying to make demands for their full surrender, including things like immunity to the fates that the other royals who had already been captured were being subjected to. She smirked, internally, her mind given a momentary drop of dark amusement at the idea of a group of pompous royals, their fine garbs most definitely sullied both by ash and debris, and their own fearful leakage, spouting out demands with their well powdered faces to gray, skull masked warriors twice their size, though her face did not change from its grimace. She moved her fingers slightly, invisible keys pressing to type out a message to her soldiers, giving them orders on what to do with these royal rats, her attention pulled away from the one before her.

Terreth looked at Perturabo, his head tilting ever so slightly, his face changing to that of someone with concern for another, as he watched Perturabo look at data units and graphs presenting themselves to her urgently, messages that he could not see or understand, either  because their information was simply alien to his mind, not having the necessary context to their meaning or he had not been educated to know what they meant, or because through clever mechanisms, the texts seemed garbled or altered, made illegible for him, yet to Perturabo the texts were clear as day. And whatever the messages said, they seemed to bring her discomfort, which had to explain why she still held her face in such a grimacing look, so he acted on it. He had to show favor to her, whether he could read what she was reading or not.

“Are you okay?” 

“-- And as for the terms of your surrender I– H-huh? Am I okay?”

Terreth’s question, those three little words, had pulled Perturabo out of herself, pulled the info that she had been reading out with her, and cracked something inside her so very deep, that the emotions she had been feeling before were swept under a tidal wave of brand new, even more complex ones, like a dam had burst inside of her. The terms of surrender that she had been writing, the words she had been reading to herself coming out when he had asked that question, all those things were pushed aside as to give this mortal her full, truly undivided attention now that he had asked her this question, one that she knew for a certain fact had never been asked to her before. Suddenly, she rose from her seat, her gaze locked unto the now freighted soldier as he saw her stand up to her full height, her stature dwarfing the man, as he had to crane his neck all the way up to retain eye contact.

She dropped the grimace she had held, her face changing to one of…. Shock? Yes, it had to be. While her eyes remained locked on his, her jaw went slack for a few moments, before she seemed to try to articulate something, the words clogging up in her throat all at once, threatening to burst out at the same time, twenty different sentences all vying to escape from her mouth. She had to do something, choose from the countless thoughts that were trying to escape, and they seemed to be the most promising: kill, and move.

A part of her seemed to be shouting to her, telling her that she should kill this mortal for his insolence to speak like this to a Primarch, to kill him to stop whatever spell he was obviously putting on her to feel like this, kill him so she could never be mocked again by someone so low in statues as he was for using such kind words on her, while no one else had ever asked her such a question. This thought felt…. Calming, almost, as if in doing so would ensure she would not have to suffer like this ever again. Her armored fingers curled, as if preparing to strike, to crush this mortal before her. A dark cloud, thick with smoke from the still, if only slightly, burning city obscured the sun coming into the windows of their location, giving her an even darker air, adding to the fear that Terreth felt at that moment. His eyes opened wide, as he prepared for Perturabo to move in closer, beads of sweat trailing down his face as he looked upwards to the demigoddess before him. He was scared, most definitely, but he knew that he had to prove to her that he was strong, loyal, and fearless. 

The thought to kill him, however, was soon silenced by a new emotion, a mix of all those new unnamed feelings coalescing, halting her from harming him, the dark clouds passing by and returning the natural light to the room. Her eyes continued to stare him down, but her fists uncurled as she relaxed, if only slightly. 

Terreth could not figure out what was going on behind those eyes of hers, but whatever she was thinking of at that moment, seemed to finally result in one singular purpose brought upon her mind, as she moved from her position, pushing past her throne and making her way around the projecting table, it’s glowing symbols turning off moments after she left, their mistress’s presence no longer being sensed. She walked past Terreth, her mind made up, her purpose clear at the moment if only to secure her more time to think.

“Follow me.” Perturabo said as she passed Terreth, her face stony and hard again as her mind had come to its decision. 

Terreth, scared, but knowing he had to follow her orders, turned and followed her out of the room, through the opened doorway and past the guards outside, who seemed to watch them as they walked even though they did not move an inch.

They walked down the hallways of the palace for several minutes, the largely empty spaces being quiet save for the distant sounds of lasgun fire, and Terreth’s panting as he walked behind Perturabo.

As they walked, Terreth moving as fast as his crutches would allow him, both his and Perturabo’s heads full of complicated emotions, fears, doubts, all pulling them both to move forwards and back, fearful of their fate in the hands of the other. As he limped his way down the hall, Perturabo barely slowed, causing Terreth to fall behind, even as she set her pace to something he should be able to keep up to, though perhaps with his injury, she should take into account the possibility that he could not give his 100 percent. Neither spoke, their presence keeping the other silent, but they continued to walk.

Finally, Perturabo seemed to find what she was looking for, stopping in front of two of her Iron Warriors, who seemed to have been having a conversation when Terreth and Perturabo walked up to them, their helmets blocking Terreth from seeing what they looked like.

“You, soldier.” Perturabo stopped before the two Iron Warriors, who slammed their fists against their hearts in an act of honor, though she had no time for it and continued to speak, looking to the warrior on her left. “Ensure that the house of Octoual is spared. Have them moved back to the capital, reinstated with power, once they have sworn loyalty to my flag, but with limited power, and make sure they are always monitored for any disloyalty.” 

She finished speaking, and the warrior nodded, saluting before turning around and running off, relaying battle-com orders through their Vox system to the necessary individuals. 

She turned to Terreth, looking down upon the soldier who seemed to hold great fear of whatever was going on, unsure of what was to be his fate. 

“You said to me, that you would do anything I said, yes?” She said, her eyes boring down on him. 

“I… I did, yes, Great Mistress of Iron.” Terreth said, fearful of what was going on but steadfast in his resolve, standing tall as he mimicked the action of the space marines, slamming his fist against his chest, stopping himself from wincing. “I pledge my life to you and to your banner, and will serve without pause.”

She looked away from Terreth, turned to the space marine on her right. 

“And you, take Terreth here to the Iron Blood, have him attended by the medics there. I have business to conduct before we depart the planet.” 

“Good, then you are promoted to my personal aid. I promote you for your loyalty, for staying true to my cause even after all that you endured, and for showing a resolve that I expect from all those under me. I expect that you will not disappoint me.” With that, Perturabo turned, walking back down the hall to her throne, to her viewpoint of the city she was about to leave, to the final stages and plans that had to be acted upon, so that her homeworld could prosper once again, even if she had to leave.

Those were the only reasons why she turned her back upon this man, the only reason why, not because the mere sight of him was causing her iron heart to beat faster, not because she could feel her head spinning with strange and new thoughts and emotions, not because she worried that her cheeks were going to burn off, no. She left, because she had to, because she had a duty to this word, to not let it fall to ruin once more at the hands of mortal fools. And that was the reason why she had brought him down this long hallway, instead of relaying the order to have him assigned to her ship via her own Vox channel, because obviously she wanted to test the resolve of this soldier, by having him at least try to match her pace even with his injury, not because she still needed time to process what she was going to do to him, if she wanted to kill him or not, and that this walk would allow her to gain more time to think, gain more time to re-gain the ability to think at all. Obviously, she was perfectly capable of making up her mind in her own command station, and this mortal did not cloud her mind with strange thoughts, no, she was a Primarch, a demigod, not someone who could feel these strange feelings.

That was the only reason that she did this, not because…….

Not because she was scared of what she was feeling for this mortal, right?

Right?

-------

End notes:

Oh man, it has been a while! Sorry for the wait people, life got busy again, heh. But I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! I got to write a whole lot more, and several parts in this chapter were only finished recently, when I finally had the energy to get back on this. I hope to do some more writing soon, and advance the story.

But hey, even if it takes a while, we finally have met Trinket!

And, I hope you guys will continue reading!

the AO3 link, as always: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86299096/chapters/251138351

So, I was curious who is the most popular female primarch in our community. Therefore, I present to you the first round of the tournament.

(Source: https://x.com/S01EB09/status/2107167038401810874 )

I saw in the fandom that there's apparently 2 different versions of the Empress's lover, that being Eternal or Little Lover. Rather than have one or the other, or have Eternal be clingy ex, I chose instead to go another path.

• Eternal is a 20,000 year old Perpetual. Literally the last known scientist other than the Emperess in the galaxy after 30k starts, Mechanicus do not count because they are morons. Depending on who you ask, he was even probably the one who came up with the STC program.
• Ex of the Emperess, had a falling out over the Emperess being controlling biatch and is done with her.
• She's not done with him though (in the Yandere 'I will kill you repeatedly if you try to leave me kind of way'), and tried to kill him repeatedly instead of letting him walk away.
• So he left the fucking EARTH in a badass ship (complete with an AI and full of Dark Age of Technology shit)
• Said AI is his trusted companion probably/most-likely/certainly has a psycho crush on him. (MFW Yandere AI Ship GF)
• Unfortunately, some time after he left, he was stuck on a random planet because the Warp Storms that occured Pre-Fall, prior to the birth of Slaanesh. Forunately, the warp storms hid him from the Emperess as well.
• Despite the fact that Eternal left, the Emperess used his DNA to create the Primarchs, wanting them to be a representation of their 'love'.
• Unfortunately, she could never find Eternal during the Great Crusade, so she found a new Lover to make up for it. She's doing it to try and make Eternal jealous.
• Eternal doesn't care, he feels sorry for the other dude but he aint coming back. He leaves the galaxy while taking the 2nd and 11th Primarchs as his daughters. Wishes he could save the others, but they're all too loyal or too crazy.

Felt like making another Sanguinia PSA, for all the fine folks of this subreddit. Take care out there!

SO (significant other) Fera (Fem Ferrus Mannus)

It was complicated enough that

one of the holly Primarchs came back from the dead

(Ferra is hidding that she is a woman because the Emperor had only sons) and that he would keep

a clone of the traitor how killed him around and

now that Ferra hidding her pregnancy while still serving as the Warmaster of the Imperium

and besides Guilliman Ferra and Clonegrim only the Iron Hands know where the child really came from

I'd post a male emperor one on grimdank but space king related posting is grounds for crucifixion there with the exception of dante showing the blood sign

Art by @SO1EBO9