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shiyorin · 1 year

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If I remember correctly you still owe me a req fic ( ` ω ´ )

But that's okay, I can wait, good luck with your thesis (´｡• ω •｡`) ♡

Thanks for waiting, my thesis took almost all of my time. And here is your req fic. Happy 520 day.

One day in summer…

Roboute Guilliman tossed and turned in his massive bed, unable to sleep due to the stifling heat in his bedroom within the Imperial Palace. The air conditioner had broken down and Guilliman, not used to such discomfort, was incredibly distressed.

After hours of sweating and cursing in high gothic, Guilliman decided he could not endure this alone. He rose from his bed and strode purposefully down the halls, making his way to the rooms of one of his brothers.

In his misery, he decided to seek refuge in Leman Russ's room. He made his way to Russ' rooms, banging loudly on the door. A disheveled Russ opened it, looking ready to tear off the head of whoever disturbed his sleep. But at the sight of Guilliman, sweaty and flushed in his rumpled nightclothes, Russ' irritation melted into startled amusement.

"What in the name of" Russ began before Guilliman interrupted.

"Are you a good man, Russ?" Guilliman asked desperately. "Will you let me sleep here tonight?"

Russ blinked blearily, still half asleep. "Aye, m'floor always welcomes ya." He mumbled, just wanting to finish this and go back to sleep.

But Guilliman did not hear the final part. "Thank you, brother," he said, before climbing onto Russ's bed and taking up most of the space.

Russ stared in disbelief. "I said m'floor welcomes ya!"

But Guilliman was already snoring loudly. Russ pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Shoulda known better than ta trust ya with proper manners," he muttered.

Russ debated between dragging Guilliman off the bed or stomping off to find another place to sleep. In the end, exhaustion won out and he simply climbed onto the small sliver of bed left, muttering curses under his breath.

Guilliman and Russ fell into a deep sleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow. However, their limbs were restless even in slumber.

Russ began twitching and thrashing about, unconsciously throwing punches and kicks. Guilliman was not spared, receiving several blows even as he slept on.

Russ's feet landed a few solid blows to Guilliman's back, eliciting grumbles but no waking. Guilliman's flailing arms smacked Russ in the face a few times, prompting muttered curses but still no waking.

Guilliman soon began fighting in his dreams, lashing out with fists and feet. Russ snarled and fought more ferociously,landing solid hits on Guilliman.

Russ accidentally kicked Guilliman, causing him to lash out with a startled punch that collided with Russ's jaw. Russ retaliated with an elbow to Guilliman's ribs. As their limbs continued unintentionally striking out at each other, the violence in their dreams intensified. Russ's knees landed a series of jabs to Guilliman's ribs while Guilliman's hands slapped Russ's head repeatedly.

The battle of fists and feet continued, both Primarchs oblivious in their sleep. Until Russ's heel caught Guilliman square in the butt, propelling him off the bed with a shout of indignation. Guilliman's retaliatory punch caught Russ on the jaw, sending him tumbling after.

Russ awoke with a start and groaned as pain shot through his bruised limbs. Guilliman also sat up, looking disoriented and grumpy.

Guilliman and Russ awoke groggily from their tumble to the floor, rubbing bruised limbs and aching bodies.

Guilliman sighed. "Before we attempt further sleep, let us arrange ourselves properly so we do not cause each other further injury."

Russ grumbled in assent and they climbed back into the bed, carefully positioning themselves on opposite sides with as much space between them as possible.

But no sooner had their heads hit the pillow once more then their restless limbs began flailing unconsciously as sleep overtook them. Elbows and knees jabbed, feet kicked and snores sounded as the two primarchs resumed their unconscious scuffle for space.

They continued in this vein for some time, jolting and grunting as they pummeled each other even in sleep. At last, with mighty simultaneous kicks, they once again found themselves on the floor.

This time, to their annoyance, dawn's light was stretching across the sky. They rose stiffly from the floor, covered in bruises and sporting several new cuts.

Finally, Russ could take no more. He shook Guilliman roughly. "Alright ya blueberry, time ta get out m'room!"

Russ recounted the previous night's events to Sanguinius the next day with tiredness. Sanguinius listened with concern for his brothers' injuries but also had to suppress a smile at the image of Guilliman and Russ fighting unconsciously in their sleep.

He told Guilliman, "You may sleep in my room tonight brother. My bed is large enough that we should not disturb one another."

Guilliman agreed, grateful for a respite from the heat of his own room.

That night, Sanguinius' good intentions quickly turned into a nightmare. No sooner had Guilliman dropped off to sleep than his limbs began flailing wildly.

Sanguinius tried patiently to dodge Guilliman's restless kicks and punches. When one accidentally connected, he tried gently shaking Guilliman awake. But Guilliman simply waved Sanguinius' hand away, oblivious to his brother's predicament as he continued lashing out uncontrollably in his sleep.

Sanguinius lay battered and bruised from Guilliman's unconscious blows.Yet he endured with patience and grace, ever the graceful angel.

But as the 13th kick connected squarely with his jaw, Sanguinius felt his patience beginning to fray. He felt the red thirst stirring within, that bloodlust calling for retribution against the one who had wronged him so.

Sanguinius suppressed a growl as another of Guilliman's flailing limbs struck his cheekbone. His mind rebelled at the crude "Fuck" swear words that rose unbidden to his lips.Yet it seemed the only suitable expression for the situation.

Another blow connected with his jaw and Sanguinius saw stars. The red thirst raged now, demanding he forcibly restrain Guilliman and give him a thorough beating to still those restless limbs for good.

Yet at the last moment Sanguinius reined in his rage, recalling his dignity as a son of the Emperor. Instead, he uttered an immortal phrase in the most aristocratic, elegant tone he could muster:

"Your mother never loved you."

He slipped from his room with a sigh of relief, regaining a small measure of satisfaction from Guilliman's surely wounded pride upon awakening.

The next day, Sanguinius approached Lion El'Jonson with an overly warm smile. Lion immediately became suspicious.

"Good brother" he said. "Are you a good man?"

Lion remained on high alert, suspicions raised. "No" he said bluntly.

Undeterred, Sanguinius continued smiling beatifically. "You should strive to be a good Angel, worthy of leading the Dark Angels."

Lion scoffed. "The Imperium already has you, the Angel. It doesn't need another one."

But Sanguinius pressed on. "Being good is the duty of every citizen, including Primarchs."

Lion remained unmoved. Sanguinius' smile took on a sly edge as finally Sanguinius said, "Roboute's air conditioning is still broken. He will sleep in your room tonight."

Lion's eyes widened in horror. "No. Absolutely not."

Sanguinius pretended not to hear, turning to leave with final words of wisdom. "Learning to help others selflessly is the first step to becoming a good man."

Lion watched him go, seething. "That conniving, self-righteous thing!" he muttered. "Does he truly think I would fall for such tricks?"

That night, Sanguinius returned to his own room, satisfied. Across the Palace, Guilliman settled in to endure another night of restless turmoil, this time at Lion's expense.

Though the First creaturely denied it, Sanguinius knew he had succeeded in teaching Lion an important lesson: how to learn compassion the hard way.

When Guilliman arrived that night, Lion had placed his great sword across the middle of the bed. "Cross that line" he warned, "and I'll cut you down where you sleep."

Guilliman eyed the sword warily but was too exhausted to argue. He climbed cautiously into bed, keeping well away from the blade.

Soon enough, Guilliman was fast asleep. But just as before, his limbs began flailing unconsciously, catching Lion unawares.

Guilliman's foot soon struck Lion's greatsword, sending it clattering to the floor with a mighty crash. Lion stared in shock as the blade carved a deep gouge into the marble floor.

Lion seethed at being so easily bested, even in sleep. He rose to retrieve his sword, placing it once more between them on the bed. Once more, Guilliman's kick sent it flying across the room.

Lion's rage knew no bounds as Guilliman's flailing limbs relentlessly struck him. As he drew his sword, ready to slice into Guilliman's flailing limbs, a blow caught him square on the chin. Then another on his temple.

Blow after blow rained down upon him, throwing Lion's thoughts into chaos. He began to doubt his life.

Who am I? Where am I? Why did I let this idiot into my room? Why can I not stop his attacks?

Then memories flooded back, of Caliban, of Luther's training sessions, of the Dark Angels. Lion's thoughts cleared even as Guilliman's fists continued to connect.

More memories surfaced, of the Watchers singing their weird song

"Weeheeheehee dee heeheeheehee weeoh aweem away ~"

Then a clumsy kick caught him full in the face, sending Lion's mind reeling once more. His thoughts became more nonsensical, the continuous blows breaking down his grip on reality.

Why did he choose that hideous aquilla green for his legion colors? Was he mad? Did the wings and halos truly suit Dark Angels?

Guilliman's unconscious blows continued, filling Lion's thoughts with self-doubt and shame. Memories of Caliban and the Imperium blurred together in Lion's battered mind.

Finally, dawn's light broke through the window, ending the nightmarish assault. Guilliman sheepishly took his leave while Lion lay dazed and humiliated.

It took hours for Lion to gather his wits. When he did, only one thought remained clear: If Sanguinius ever tricked him again, next time his sword would fall upon a worthier target.

10.

Vulkan saw Lion's haggard, bruised face and asked worriedly, "What troubles you, brother?"

Lion replied wearily, "The tech-priests have still not repaired the air conditioning in Roboute's room."

Vulkan, ever the compassionate and generous brother, assured Lion, "Roboute is welcome to rest in my room and use the air conditioner there."

But what shocked everyone was not Vulkan's kindness, but the fact that he had air conditioners in his room.

Ferrus joined them, laughing incredulously. "You have air conditioners, Vulkan? Since when?"

Vulkan looked confused. "I have always had air conditioning."

Corax stared at Vulkan. "But...you're from Nocturne. You grew up in constant fiery forges and volcanic heat."

Vulkan smiled softly. "True, but in the palace I prefer comfort."

The others exchanged astonished looks.

Lion turned to Vulkan in relief. "At least Roboute's flailing limbs will not trouble me again."

Now it was Vulkan's turn to look confused. "Flailing limbs? What do you mean?"

Lion sighed. "Nevermind. Just...enjoy your air conditioning. In peace."

With that, Lion retreated, shaking his head in wonder. It's not his business now.

11.

Vulkan finally understood what Lion had meant by "flailing limbs". He deeply regretted agreeing to let Guilliman sleep in his room.

As Guilliman's unconscious blows rained down, Vulkan's kindly nature gave way to irritation. He wondered if Guilliman was actually a Salamander in disguise, for no true human could contort their body into such magical sleeping positions.

Vulkan had to restrain himself from grabbing his thunder hammer and teaching Guilliman a lesson. Instead he reminded himself over and over that they were brothers, and sharing was caring. But the regret grew with every bruise and cut.

Guilliman's relentless assault chipped away at Vulkan's patience. Kind thoughts were replaced by vengeful fantasies of hitting Guilliman with his hammer. Only his fundamental goodness held him back from action.

That night seemed to last an eternity for Vulkan. Each blow chipped away at his goodwill until finally, in the cold light of dawn, Vulkan could bear no more. For the first time in his life, he roughly tossed Guilliman from his bed while his brother still slept.

This night, Vulkan had learned a valuable lesson: that generosity has its limits, even among brothers.

Some lessons, it seemed, could only be truly learned the hard way. Vulkan now knew that while sharing was caring in principle, in practice there were some things better left unshared, like one's room with Guilliman's flailing limbs.

12.

The next morning, Ferrus Manus noticed Vulkan's tired and bruised face. Concerned, he offered his help.

Guilliman looked embarrassed. "I apologize for troubling you brother."

But Ferrus waved away his apology. "I am tough," he said. "It will take more than flailing limbs to best me." He smiled at Guilliman. "Besides, how bad could you be compared to Fulgrim?"

Ferrus then turned to Vulkan. "Why have the tech-priests not yet repaired Roboute's air conditioning?"

Vulkan sighed. "All the air conditioners in the Imperial Palace are ancient relics from the 3rd millennium. The tech-priests have difficulty finding replacement parts, having to travel back and forth between Terra and Mars."

Ferrus nodded in understanding. Then he said to Guilliman, "You can use my room tonight. I do not require rest as often as you fleshy types."

Guilliman looked grateful. "Thank you Ferrus."

Vulkan smiled at the scene, glad to see brotherly love overcoming adversity. But privately he wondered if Ferrus understood completely what he had volunteered for. Still, Vulkan had faith that whatever happened that night, brotherhood would win in the end.

13.

Vulkan was wrong to think that brotherhood could win.

And Ferrus was also mistaken, Guilliman proved far more worse than even Fulgrim.

That night, as Guilliman's flailing limbs struck relentlessly, Ferrus had to restrain himself from strangling his brother with his iron hands.

Each blow chipped away at Ferrus' iron resolve. Flesh may have been weak, but even his iron will had limits.

Through gritted teeth, Ferrus repeated like a mantra "Flesh is weak." Yet inside he knew that his own will was growing weaker by the moment.

Guilliman punched him in the eye, sending Ferrus reeling. He resisted the urge to lash out, knowing it would only compound the strife between brothers.

But as more blows landed with sickening thuds, Ferrus found himself longing for the peaceful solitude of his forge. At least there he was not subject to his brother's unthinking violence.

The night seemed endless. Ferrus' iron will felt close to snapping. Only the knowledge that dawn would bring an end to this torment kept him from acting in haste and hatred.

At last, mercifully, Guilliman stilled. Ferrus, aching in body and soul, silently left the room. He resolved never again to underestimate Guilliman asleep or awake.

14.

The next day Guilliman found Corax lurking in a shadowy corner, brooding as usual.

Guilliman approached him with a pitiful expression. "Are you a good man, brother?" he asked.

Corax replied suspiciously, "I am not a man. I am a Corvus."

Undeterred, Guilliman pressed on. "But as the Emperor's son, a Corvus is also a man."

Corax scowled. "I don’t want-"

But Guilliman interrupted with a pleading look. "The air conditioner in my room has not been repaired yet. Will you let me sleep in your room just this once?"

Though reluctant, Corax finally acquiesced. "Very well, just this once."

15.

Corax crouched in the shadows of his room, brooding as Guilliman's restless limbs flailed about the bed.

He thought to himself, I am not human. I am Corvus. All I want is to be left alone with my thoughts of baby corvus and my Raven Guard.

But no one considers my feelings. Everyone is a selfish being who knows only themselves. The world is cruel and unjust place. There is no harmony in the universe. The only constant suffering...

Guilliman kicked and punched, jarring Corax from his grim reflections. Annoyance flared within him. Must I endure this irritation with no respite for my brooding soul?

As dawn broke, Corax could contain himself no more. Perching upon the bedpost, he cried out in anguish:

"Nevermore!"

His words rang with the sorrow of millennia. The lament of a lonely soul who could find no peace, even within his own room.

Guilliman stirred at last, ceasing his restless flailing. Seeing Corax brooding in the corner, he flushed with shame.

"Forgive me brother, for troubling you." he said contritely.

But Corax merely glowered. Some wounds, it seems, run too deep for apology. Some peace is too fragile to withstand disturbance.

With a choked "Nevermore" Corax swept from the room, escaping once more into solitude.

16.

After Corax's outburst, the other Primarchs gathered round Guilliman, asking him why he had the troublesome habit of flailing limbs while sleeping.

Guilliman flushed with embarrassment. "Perhaps it is because I sleep in new places." he replied meekly. In truth, he had always been this way. But he was too embarrassed to admit it.

Vulkan, Ferrus and Corax decided enough was enough. They resolved to travel to Mars to speed up the repairs on Guilliman's malfunctioning air conditioning.

Now only Dorn remained, tasked with housing Guilliman for the night. He agreed reluctantly, declaring that fortifications would contain Guilliman's violence where his brothers had failed.

17.

Dorn was confident that his pillow fortress would withstand any assault. But he was wrong. No sooner had he built the first one then it was demolished by a flailing limb.

Dorn wondered what had gone wrong, how his mighty fortification had fallen so easily. Undaunted, he vowed to rebuild, stronger this time.

Again he erected walls of pillows around himself, reinforcing weak points and leave no openings. But once more, Guilliman's limbs breached the defenses within moments.

Dorn persisted, determined to meet this challenge as befitting Terra's Praetor. With each fail, he recorded his errors and weaknesses, correcting them in the next iteration.

Finally, he was sure he had conceived the perfect fortress - the pinnacle of pillow - based fortification. But no sooner was it erected then it too came crashing down.

Watching his magnum opus collapse, Dorn knew he could persist no longer. Dorn finally realized the futility of his efforts. He could not fortify against this unconquerable enemy.

Resigned, Dorn dismantled his final pillow attempt. "No more." he muttered. "I amn't Terra's protector tonight."

18.

Jaghatai Khan returned from his travels to find his brothers weary and battered. Upon learning the cause - Guilliman's restless sleeping and malfunctioning air conditioner. Khan was dumbfounded.

"Could you simply let Roboute sleep on the floor?" He suggested. "Or bring in another bed for him?"

Russ, Lion, Dorn and Sanguinius stared at him, then at each other. They had not considered such obvious solutions in their eagerness to help.

Khan pressed on "Or he could use my room while I am away. I don't mind."

Again, his brothers looked sheepish at their own stupidity. Khan just sighed again. Now he would have to deal with Guilliman himself.

19.

Khan thought he had solved the problem by suggesting Guilliman sleep on the floor of his room. But that night, he realized he had gravely underestimated the issue.

Even resting on the floor, Guilliman's unconscious movements were destructive. Khan watched in shock as Guilliman's limbs flung about, kicking over furniture and smashing decorative plates.

Khan stroked his chin, regretting returning to Terra at all. Another crash resounded as Guilliman's foot smashed through an ornate table.

With a sigh, Khan rose to leave. "I think I will start another journey." he muttered. "And not return to Terra for some time."

"Perhaps a month." he mused, walking down the hall. But then he reconsidered. "No, make that five months."

Yet as he continued on, his estimate grew longer. "Perhaps a year away would do me good." he decided.

By the time he reached the ship, Khan had decided he would only return to Terra when absolutely necessary. Until then, he would send gifts and call his brothers occasionally.

Khan gets on his ship with a wry smile. Only now did he truly understand the destructive force that was Roboute Guilliman, asleep or awake.

With that, Khan left in the dawn light. He has enough with his brothers.

20.

Guilliman's air conditioner still hasn't been repaired.

#shiyorin's answer #warhammer 40k #wh40crack.#no cp #roboute guilliman #leman russ #sanguinius #lion el'jonson #vulkan #ferrus manus #corvus corax #rogal dorn #jaghatai khan

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