#yandere primarch x reader

[corvusspecialartist]

A Panopticon's Desire: Yandere! Konrad Curze x Artist Reader (Pt: 1)

An artist born. Fire and Blood.. a future changed. Konrad was idling by on his throne. Something was off…. his world… his worthless populace had been fixed though the power of fear. He had very little need of going out to cull the scum. However, it was odd… he saw a future where he was dragged and somehow beheaded. His planet ablaze, but in as soon it arrived it changed… they were chained… locked away to rot. A rare beautiful toy to play with. He shook the vision form his head. NO matter. This future would not come to pass… after all. His spies that were loyal had reported that many of the families… despite going underground… had pooled their resources and planned some form of tribute.

Maybe this was some ploy of their feeble superstitious mind. Trying to appease him, so that just maybe their families would be spared. This would be very much interesting.

You were being smuggled. It was of upmost matter that you were to kept secret. You were a well known artist in the system… with your work respected. However, this would be your greatest job yet! They were offering you, in your view, your weight in gold. All of the materials and lodging were provided. It was surprising for this opportunity to even come up in the first place…your kin had told you about the lawless state of the planet. Yet, when asked about the current state.. your patrons told you that someone else was in charge. But no matter…you made sure to bring proper supplements and glow in the dark paint, to allow the Nostroamon to actually see the art. You have heard that the planet had almost no light, and the people there could see in the dark. A captain came into your quarters running urgently.

"I need you to go and hide immediately… although we have gotten the proper paperwork for you… we needed it to be discreet." you nodded immediately and followed the captain into a small dark closet. Hopefully, your patrons would provide some low-vision goggles in order for you to allow you to see signs more easily. As you were squeezed, you heard the murmured voices. After it seemed like, almost forever. The captain came back. "We managed to get you past customs… I would get ready and brace." After he said that you started to move within the small space… It was quick, but soon an announcement came by on the ship ."We have safely landed on Nostramo." Immediately you got out.. watching as the various serfs go towards your room and gather your things.

You have heard the sordid reputation of the people of this world, and made sure that you brought on very little in terms of valuables. However, as your patrons led you out of the ship…as you took a step foot on this world. It seemed… different… It was quiet. You have heard the stories and the screams and the rampaging and varying explosions… that this planet was crime ridden hellhole. It was impossible… it almost felt as if you were in a dream. It seemed almost fake. You were shown into your quarters… and were left alone for a bit. You packed out the things… and started to sketch. Your nightmares seemed to take a current inspiration.

Sitting down, you started to draw a whirling mechanical tower. It was a grotesque thing that seemed to have one white eye.. It seemed to shine a beam on light… searching. Mouths seemed from the vents and were screaming. You were standing out in the open… as the searchlight swirled closer to you… Running though the warped halls, , as the mouths wailed and cried.. almost as if denied their prey. It seemed to run though closer… hands grabbing various people and consuming them…the mouths screeching and groaning. You had awaken at the time. Maybe this was an omen.

Maybe this was an omen. An alternate future… the canon.. the proper future,where this little thing would be under his thumb. His spies had told him about a recent visa, for a popular artist throughout the system. Personally, he was not a big fan of their art… He had ordered of the visa to be detained. He smiled to himself… when he caught them. This would be a grand cause of celebration… a rare public execution. However, he paused. No. He couldn't do that… drag them in and kill them over some trumped up charges… They were too popular and had backing amongst the nobility, those who had bent the knee to his rule. Honestly, he wished,he wasn't so just. He should have just killed them all. However, a gleaming idea came into his head.. he would pay them a little visit.

[kit-williams]

Oh no there's now two of each Primarch!

@bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog

Lady Dorn just sighs as now she has to hear her husband in stereo. She just enjoys the bit more affection her not husband Rogal offers her.

Sorsilla doesn't like the way that they both just grin at her like some sort of predator as she doesn't want to let them know she's lost track of which ones is hers.

The Lady of the Death Guard just sighs as she has now two husbands to make sure are okay. Of course she enjoys the amount of flower crowns they rest on her head smiling as she is unaware of the growing madness in the eyes of the newcomer.

Lady Corax just watches in horror as she assumes her not husband says something about her and her husband erupted into violence. She is hiding with Shrike... The legion is concerned.

She looks at the two Alpharius' no one is an Alpharius and the other is an Omegon... The dread she feels is from the fact this means there are four of them running around.

Lady El'Johnson sighs as her Lion snarls at the newcomer as of course he would say having her on his arm was a waste of time. And in retort her Lion shocks her with being publicly affectionate with her... She won't say no to her knight...

Fulgrim had sworn off of marriage as you attend to the two Primarchs as they speak quietly. You were just a serf but you could see the way this newcomer looks at you. You blink as he pulls you into your lap just once again you being treated like a doll for him to fuss over... Why did you feel so warm under his gaze...

Jaghatai happily discusses topics with himself as you're asleep in the newcomers lap having fallen asleep with his fingers running through your hair and gently against your scalp.

"Heel!" Lady Russ says as she pulls on the braids of the overly affectionate Primarch. As the two of them eagerly stole her away with her not husband eagerly asking where Leman found you as they handle you roughly before piling into a side room to rip your clothes and paw at your body.

Ferrus looked as his counterpart as they both knew where they kept you... Both having found you already in their respective universes and both putting you away to keep you safe.

Lady Guilliman looked at the older version of her husband. He never found you... He looks like the weight of the galaxy is crushing him and suffocating him. "Please," he begs softly, "just hold me a little bit more." He holds her close as he savors this dream.

Horus can see the stewing jealousy from himself as he wants to touch you. But Horus knows himself and it won't stop with a touch... Never with you... And he doesn't know if he's willing to share you with himself.

Lady Aurilian shakes her head as her husband at times can be insufferable but now there is two of him crooning your praises. It's adorable and insufferable but it is also your husband and a version of himself before meeting you...

Magnus happily converses with himself hoping to help himself avoid small mistakes. The poor Lady of the Thousand sons is a mewling mess as the two Psyker Primarchs are playing with your soul and you once more orgasm with a scream.

He has the Red Lady take away the pain of himself for a moment. He holds her tight against his chest as she twitches violently in pain, he grabs the stunned Angron's tunic and just tells him where he found you and what year all down to the last details. "Save her from her High Rider" the red angel hisses in pain as the nails bite hard before they return to a full ache as she returns to taking his pain again. Leaving the ladyless Angron to burn that information into his mind for a chance to have relief.

The Lady of the Blood Angels feels anemic as she can see that predatory look in this new Sanguinius' eyes... She knows her husband well enough and by the way they coo at her... She swallows nervously.

The Lady of the Salamanders smiled at her not husband who eagerly gave her hugs. Oh how lovely to meet you before actually meeting you! And he must love you terribly given how he could see the simmering anger from himself as he stole kisses from you much to your delight.

Out of all the spouses only Penelope is vibrating with excitement that there are two of her husband! While the two of them scowl at each other there is just a happily bouncing mortal woman with a chance at a wild and impossible fantasy of hers to be fulfilled... To which her Perturabo just rolls his eyes as she just bewilders the other as she gets to trying to seduce him.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

His Moon

Summary: Horus learns that Lorgar has a daughter. The thought of his own child takes over his mind.

Horus/fem!OC, Emperor and Lorgar's daughter (OC, platonic), Lorgar/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping

Word count: 1002

Song: The Cure - Lullaby

This fic was born because of this beautiful post.

The Warmaster looks at one of the many contracts and freezes, unable to sign. Memories of brighter days on Terra capture Horus. The primarch simply cannot, cannot sit behind the documents. The title of Warmaster weighs heavily on his shoulders. The responsibility of continuing the Crusade as a leader weighs heavily. He wants simple human affection.

Horus loved his sons. Everyone was dear to him, especially the members of Mournival. Yet they were war machines. Perhaps much better than ordinary people, but the primarch was connected to them only by gene-seed. Pure science and controlled selection.

It was not the same as the childhood of the primarch himself. When his Father taught him astronomy, the art of war and told him stories of the past. It’s an unforgettable feeling to look at the man in front of you and listen to his every word. While you yourself are still a boy who has not seen the world and has not known its taste.

Neither brother could understand Horus. Couldn't take the place of the Emperor's favorite son. Because that's how it was. The Warmaster was found before anyone else - and therefore Terra is not just a home by name. No matter how hard some of them, especially Lorgar, tried to earn the Emperor's love. All their attempts were doomed to failure.

Even worse, the primarch of the Word Bearers had caused real anger with his behavior. Horus thought that everything would end with the burning of the Monarchy. Until he was told interesting news. Lorgar had a wife. One of the civilians of Colchis, with whom he... fell in love. And he took her to himself. But that was not all.

She was pregnant with the primarch's child.

Something clicked in the Warmaster’s head and he decided to visit the Imperial Palace. Discuss new trade routes, diplomatic meetings, military tactics. Horus did not want to show his excitement. But he so wanted to see a new life. From his primarch blood.

***

“Her name is Erda.” - The Emperor cooed over the cradle with a toy in his hands. A sight unusual even for Horus. - “Unlike all of you, she grows much slower. Even than an ordinary person. But this has its own joy. She will stay this small longer. Isn’t she a beauty, my son?”

It is difficult to discourage a primarch. But little Erda did it. Unfortunately for Lorgar, his daughter will remain on Terra with the Emperor forever. Daughter. Horus says the word again in his mind, tasting it. It sounded like family; love is hidden behind this word.

She is very small, half asleep, but still carefully watches the wooden horse that her current father carved. The girl was bathed in love from birth. And although she was surrounded by the gold of Terra, her lullaby, soft blankets and toys emitted a moderate light. Gentle. Almost lunar.

The girl reaches out and grabs the horse. Smart eyes wait expectantly for some action. Until the Emperor, with a smile that even Horus has not seen, begins to squeeze her. Erda bursts into laughter - the most beautiful melody the Warmaster has ever heard.

"Yes. She's a beauty."

 And Horus can't help but want to take her. But she is still not his child.

***

There is a stir in the chambers and Horus looks up. A smile spreads across his face by itself. The serf girl cleaned his armor with zeal, wanting to scrub away the hardened dirt. The primarch liked best when it was she who looked after his armor and cleaned his room.

At first, the primarch thought that the reason was that she was the best at performing her simple duties. But no, other serfs did a better job. The man had to admit that he simply enjoyed her company. She was nice. A pretty and kind girl - her quiet presence was calming.

Everyone had to look at him with adoration. The Warmaster deserved it. And the serf was no exception, but her devotion was more tender. As if she was always nearby, as if it should be so. If Horus had any tempting thoughts, he suppressed them.

But now... they came out again, taking over his mind. Lorgar was not afraid to admit that he had fallen in love. He lost his wife only because he was terrible at his duties. His pathetic brother incurred the wrath of the Emperor only because he could not renounce the senseless traditions of Colchis.

But Horus was the favorite son. Horus was the best among his brothers, a magnificent warrior and politician. Everyone loved him and everyone wanted to please him. It was not for nothing that his Father gave him the title of Warmaster. The primarch worked as hard as he could, couldn't he take some nice little liberties?

The girl stops and looks sharply at the primarch. Apparently she felt someone else's gaze. Horus can't help but stare at the way her cheeks grow warm and her hands clutch the rag to her chest. So fragile and tender compared to him. She needs only the best care. Especially when her belly will be filled with new life.

"My Lord?"

Even though she is a serf, Horus wants to do everything right. The girl was already amazed by the primarch’s aura. There was no point in putting pressure on her or forcing her to do anything. A man could be a Warmaster not only on the battlefield, but also in romance.

And he really wanted to win such a little heart. Besides, then Horus will have a story for their child about how he met his mother. Omitting details about the imbalance of power.

“Have you ever thought about becoming a mother?”

The last word permeates the entire essence of Horus and he can barely restrain his carnivorous smile. Soon, very soon, his Luna Wolves will be holding a little brother or sister in their arms. It just needs to wait.

And then a lullaby will also appear in his chambers.

[littledarknesgold]

Mortarion x girlfriend reader When the other villagers saw him as a stranger, she saw him as a man who just wanted to be loved. During a great crusade across the galaxy, on the Death Guard's flagship, Mortarion marries and feels happy for the first time in a long time. Typhus kidnaps Y/N and forces her to enter the service of the god Nurgle under threat of Mortarion's death. Nurgle takes a liking to her and makes her a princess of decay. After centuries in Nurgle's garden, she meets Mortarion and explains everything to him. They both hate their forms, but they have no choice but to suffer forever.

🥸🫶

What is sorrow to the living is joy to the dead.

Warnings: mention of rot and insects, mention of loss, soft yandere.

You were different.

Mortarion knew it from the start, when you spoke to him without fear back on Barbarus. To others there he was as much a monster as his foster father, but not to you.

And when the time came to join the Emperor's Great Crusade, you stepped into the stars as fearlessly as you did that day, stepping out to meet him.

At first, everything was a bit complicated between you, but then it became easier, you got used to each other, liked each other, and then got married. Realized that you can't live without each other.

The Primarch of the 14th Legion never thought he would be ready for such great responsibility, nor did he think he deserved your affection, but you have calmed his troubled soul.

Your souls merged in a sacred marriage, becoming one and it seemed that nothing could separate you, but then the Horus Heresy came, and then, as if that weren't enough, Grandfather Nurgle. But you were together, so it wasn't all that bad, right?

No. Even you were taken from him, his ungrateful son Typhus stole you. That little bastard...

The Swarm Lord hid you in the Gardens of Nurgle, where Grandfather blessed you (or cursed you?) generously.

Mortarion's existence became a torment, not only because of his hideous new appearance, but also because he did not know what had happened to you or where you were. His soul was torn and torn in a fever.

His only source of joy, love and comfort was taken away from him and the Prince of Decay had nothing left to cling to. Until you were reunited again, though now you were more like a larva or caterpillar.

Burying his face in your gelatinous flesh, he realized the rotten tears.

You were together again and he made a promise to himself to get you both out at any cost, even if it was just a lie and you both were stuck here forever.

[shiyorin]

This is inspired by loony

Ioony (Alpharius/Omegon x Reader)

TW: Yandere.

Alpharius watch in the shadows as usual, observing all yet revealed to none. His enhanced senses tracked each movement as plans took shape. Yet occasionally, amidst the shadows and intrigue, something... Intrigued him on a more individual level. 

You entered. Alpharius allowed his gaze to linger as you conferred softly with others, noting angles of your form, subtle nuances in tone and gesture.

Within his mind, analysis churned as always, strengths, weaknesses, potential vulnerabilities if turned against the Imperium. But in deeper recesses, another current stirred, one strange after millennia walled away from humanity's emotional tides.

He isolated each impression, the subtle play of muscle beneath skin as you moved, each minuscule alteration in breathing or posture conveying or concealing intent. Alpharius' psyche absorbed such intricacies effortlessly, yet analyzed them now with a frame altered.

Attempting simulation, he induced within himself the biochemical surges, corresponding physiological shifts. But like shaping smoke, the emotions themselves would not hold form no matter how perfectly rendered were their vehicles of expression. Unstable feelings gradually turned into something colder, paranoia?

That which watching you could only be described through antiquated, inexact concepts. Concepts like...love.

Was this what humans meant by "love"? An emotion so destabilizing it blurred clarity into chaos? Alpharius scoffed, even as uncertainty gnawed within. Only love, that illogical emotion create by the dissonant harmony your presence wrought. 

Your role here was unclear, its import unfathomed. But Alpharius suspected you will perceived that. How delicious it would be, to draw you in, see understanding kindle behind you at last.

Alpharius watched you leave. Your movements contained a lithe grace at odds with lethality honed within. A flickering spark awaiting tinder, or perfectly balanced steel? This thoughts pulsated, probably an impulse. Strange fruits of idleness, best pruned. 

He trailed your footsteps, mind alight with questions unasked. For now, it must remain a fleeting thought alone. But perhaps one day, when intrigues allowed... A word, a glance exchanged in passing, a meetings in somewhere. Entwining like a small diversion.

The thought pleased Alpharius, for the moment. He would let it linger awhile, hold it close, to be pondered in idle watches or drawn forth when solace was required.

A rare blossom amid plots marching to destruction, worthy of nurturing in ways even he did not comprehend.

***

You sat across from him as always, but you can't see him, or you can't know of his presence. And he still likes that, still and focused yet revealing nothing. A shadow, answering to one alone. 

Omegon watched you, worlds of speculation churning behind his obscured eyes. What did he truly see, this person shrouded in impenetrable calm? Could any mind withstand your assessing gaze, devoid of judgement yet probing deeper than fleeting surface?

Blankness sways, festering in the back of his throat. Your presence covered, enveloping, concealing all thoughts from intrusion. On your own, revealing nothing to avoid complication, choice or consequence. A clean existence, swimming placid as still waters while worlds collided around your edges.

You moved as through life were a dance, each gesture perfectly calibrated. Detached, you observed all yet revealed nothing, flickering nigh and gone like a little flame amidst machinery of war. 

Omegon was not one for fanciful words, but he understood their allure. With each glimpse of you passing by, he felt uncertainty stir within, a weak flame twitching fitfully to life at your nearness before extinguishing once more.

He did not need such complications. His works demanded perfect singularity of thought and action, without room for sentiments left unsaid. But in your gaze he sensed an invitation, to abandon identity, bleed away all traces of self until only nothing remained between him and you.

But reality persists, as do its obligations. For Alpharius or Omegon, duty must always come first. And in that, perhaps, lay fullest contiguity with the mysterious called you. 

Omegon kept his silence, locking away this vagrant fancy deep within where even Alpharius could not discern its shape. For one who lives divided can ill afford distraction, no matter how fleeting or sincere the source.

If a seed of something more lingered in the fragility of heart, such trivialities held no place in their meticulous design.

[wxnheart]

𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐬 - 𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐝

a note from the OP.

Thrice-blessed. The red titan considered himself such. In his pursuit, he obtained knowledge. Through knowledge did he become wise, and through wisdom was he gifted power. Thrice-blessed. Unique among the cosmos, limitless in the Immaterium. Thrice-blessed.

"—And yet, not everything is attainable. Take care not to become lost in your quest and beholden to your thirst." Nonsense. He remembered well the words of a well-regarded scholar and still, the red titan persisted, the flames of knowledge fueled by hubris.

Magnus remembers vividly the moment he idly let his mind wander in search of knowledge, tempered by wisdom and shielded by power. He remembers vividly the moment he felt it, a spark different but alike all the same. A mind similar. Kindred spirits. He remembers it... because no sooner had he felt it, the spark vanished and Magnus was left reeling. And so were you.

That wasn't supposed to happen. You weren't supposed to do that. You weren't supposed to do any of this. And still, you persisted. For knowledge's sake. For wisdom's sake. For power. Your peers thought you were powerful enough. Your tutors cautioned you against your better wishes. What you had was good but it wasn't enough. And when you felt it, the yearning of your kindred spirit, you knew then that your journey was far from over. But you should've listened. Not all knowledge was worthy.

You remember vividly when you began to rue the day your "two minds, questing for knowledge" first met. It wasn't long before your curiosity led you astray and you poked at the giant yet again. It wasn't long before you were face to face with Prospero's greatest and oh, the promises he made, the knowledge that was at your fingertips—

Against his better judgment, Magnus found himself... taken by your passion. Your desire to push the boundaries. Mm. Not many on Prospero could say they carried the distinction of impressing him but you... What did you wish to know? What was your end goal? He knew not and it made him wish to delve deeper. And so he did. Through you.

An enigma riddled with mysteries hidden in ponderance. That's what you were. At least, that's what he thought you were. And what a fool Magnus is.

And you, knowledge at your fingertips, the memory of his radiant (albeit small) smile lingering in the recesses of your mind, gaze bright with mastery insanity, you thought yourself thrice-blessed. Knowledge became wisdom. Wisdom became power. Thrice-blessed. And oh, what a fool you were. What a fool you are. Not all smiles are beautiful. Not all knowledge begets power.

And what fools you both are. Magnus for his arrogance, and you for the audacity to think of yourself just as equal. It wasn't long before you find yourself wilting under his stoic gaze. It wasn't long before he began to push your boundaries and your mind, wandering idly, encountered horrors. Knowledge. For wisdom's sake. For power.

"Go beyond." Magnus would merely murmur encouragingly but his stare was too discerning, too penetrating. And you would, and he would watch, and you'd see horrors and realities beyond your comprehension. Knowledge. For wisdom's sake. For power. Thrice-blessed.

And still, he persisted, wanting to know your end goal. Wanting to know what you sought. An enigma riddled with mysteries hidden in ponderance. That's what you were. That's what he thought you were. And what a fool Magnus is. And it wasn't long before he became beholden to his thirst. And he pushed you to go beyond. For your sake. For his sake. In the pursuit of knowledge and wisdom.

"—And yet, not everything is attainable. Take care not to become lost in your quest and beholden to your thirst." Magnus told you once of a scholar's caution and you silently wished you heeded your tutors' words. The knowledge at your fingertips, decorating beautiful libraries, became your prison and Magnus your jailer.

And so you persisted, going beyond, seeing horrors and realities beyond your comprehension. Knowledge. For wisdom's sake. For power. Thrice-blessed.

And what fools you both were.

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotcanon]

You never lied. 

You grew up surrounded by lies. By disappointments. A hundred hypocrites and details that didn’t add up. Your father's attempts to mold you into something you were not. 

You were not clay to be molded. No matter how much he pressured you. No matter how he tried to soften or break you. 

You were not a piece of pottery. 

You were lucky when his gaze turned to someone else. The story of your life, in retrospect. The pressures of heir given to a sibling you finally could indulge in the arts you fancied all your life. 

You picked up a brush, and began to paint. 

You were watercolor. Beautiful and messy in your own way. And so so elegant. A careless stroke could ruin or define a whole painting. A hard breath could send drying droplets scattering across the frame. 

A hundred small details building up to a bigger picture. 

Just as you discovered details about a piece as you painted, so did you discover yourself. 

As you discovered yourself, so did the world of artistry discover you. 

Your father showed off your gallery to some visiting Lords. They bought some of your work. They shared it with their friends. 

And on it rippled until you received an invitation to join the Crusade amongst the stars as one of Fulgrims coterie of artists. 

You had your Father's attention again. As he fawned over his "favorite" daughter. You were able to ignore it now. And paint with even more resources than before. 

Gold and purple and silver entered your palette of constant color. 

People took notice of you, of course. You always stiffened under their gaze. An unintentional mask slipped over your face as you picked up on how they thought you should act. Self assured, but not vain. Self aware, but not self depreciating. Frank, but not too much. A well placed joke here, a tale there.

But one thing remained true, you never lied. 

Your skill as an artist grew, as did your portfolio. Now your hands chiseled marble. Worked clay. Placed mosaic tiles. Sewed fabric. Wrote and observed and noted. As your skill grew, so too did your status in the society you were in. First Lords, then Astartes and members of Fulgrims inner circle, and then Fulgrim himself. 

Fulgrim, with his large friendly eyes and soft smile.

You always felt that flaws made the beauty. One small detail out of many that built up to something gorgeous. 

Fulgrim was without flaw. No tangles in his long silver hair. No freckles, scars or pores visible on his skin. 

A massive canvas with not much detail. 

And he was friendly. Too friendly. Always armed with a smile and a compliment. Just a little too excited to be in your presence. A little too quick to wave away your frankness. A little too curious about your process. 

A little too proud to show you his own collection. 

It was beautiful. Bright colors. Serene landscapes. Warriors in triumph. Grand balls. Beautiful animals the likes of which you had never seen before or since. The Emperor himself. Rendered in exquisite detail across every medium imaginable. 

Individually incredible. Together they formed an expertly arranged collage around a statue of the Primarch himself. 

"Tell me, Musa, what is your definition of perfection?" He asked, standing at your side, Looking proud. 

Fulgrim, the greatest artist of all. Fulgrim, who in that moment seemed more distant and flawless than ever.

What your peers would call perfect.

But you never lied.

"To be True to yourself, in all that you do and say." 

It was cathartic to say it aloud. The phrase, the ethos, that defined your life for decades and would- should- have defined it for the rest of your life. 

You turned to thank the Phoenician, but the words died on your tongue.

His gaze was cold and hard. Almost, leering. 

In that moment he seemed very real.

And then he chuckled. Those large soft lips curling into a smile. 

"You are dismissed," He waved you off, and it was hard not to hurry from his presence. The moment you thought you were out of his sight your heart went cold, and tremors shook your body. 

Emperor help you you never wanted to be back in his presence again.

The Emporer ignored your pleas.

Your colors became bolder, your intentions with each piece more clear. Some would say obvious, but many others applauded your brazeness. 

Including the Primarch himself, who more than ever invited you into his presence to perform. 

If you thought you had angered him with your words it was clear you were mistaken. He saw you now more than ever. Smiled at you now more than ever. Everyone knew who his favorite was, and many of your fellows cast jealous glances at you when they thought you weren’t looking. 

Oh how you would have gladly traded places with them. 

The worst though, were the visions. You saw yourself, swathed in purple and gold silk. When you came back to yourself a new painting stood before you.

The silk soaked red.

Something about your proximity to the Primarch caused the curse to arise, and you couldn't say no to his presence.

How many paintings did you throw to the fire for fear your hated gift would be found? You were certain none had slipped through. 

So why, when the Primarch called you to view his gallery once more, did you find yourself staring at painting apon painting of yourself swathed in purple and gold. Your body contorted just as you’d painted. But in these paintings it was not pain or blood. 

But red cords, holding your body in those positions, gazing eagerly up at the Primarch at your side. Arranged so they were gesturing down. Down at the statue that held its hand out to you. 

A statue with painstakingly recreated Sapphire and Emerald eyes that stared into your soul. 

Warmth slid down your arms, and it was the sheer size of the hands now embracing you that kept you from leaping away. You looked up, and for the second time saw Fulgrims true self. 

Cold, consuming, leering. 

First at the statue. Then, lowered inexorably, at you. His warm hands meant you couldn’t shrink away from him. Couldn’t break from that inescapable grip couldn’t stop the cold creeping from your heart. 

“Perfection is to be true to yourself in everything you do. So says my greatest masterpiece. My greatest possession. My most inspiring muse.” 

If only your life had ended then. 

It might as well have. 

-----

I hate the term muse. 

Anyway this is part 2 of the story I started with Phig a bit ago. Not a reboot. We’ll be meeting our half Primarch (Primarchess?) again on the other side of her mom’s backstory. 

Goddess Anon

.

[moodymisty]

Hi i have a request yandere lorgar x f reader (9 ,47,45,42)

Reader decides to support lorgar more after seeing the mental state of him after the burning of monarchy,lorgar starts to become more and more obsessed with her to the extent of treating her like a goddess , he wants to always have her by his side he doesn't want to lose more things in his life.

( idea inspired by roroco316's recent drawing https://www.tumblr.com/roroco316/746301636466589696/the-annunciation-warning-very-hereical-yes-the?source=share )

Sorry for the bad English I'm using an online translator.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

 Author's Note: I love that art so much, so I hope this in a way provides a similar vibe?

Relationships: Lorgar/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Tokophobia, Pregnancy, Does it still count as breeding kink if you’re already pregnant and he gets off on that?, Possessive, Praise Kink, Overstimulation

"Lorgar?"

You cautiously walk into his study and gently call out, peeking your head into to see where he is.

A few moments later you notice him on the far side of the room, looking out one of the large windows at the darkness, spattered with only a few stars. He turns shortly after hearing your voice, and gives a small, pained but pleased smile.

"Ahh, my little goddess. What are you doing up?"

Having successfully tested his mood and found it safe you come in, the door closing behind you. Your more casual, plain nightclothes are at odds with his decorated study, even if it pales in comparison to the one he had on Monarchia.

But that's nothing but ash now. All of those tomes, scrolls, tapestries, memories, gone.

The Fidelitas Lex is now your permanent home, after everything.

"I couldn't sleep, so I wanted to come see you."

There's a myriad of reasons you could blame for your inability to sleep; The only just concluded razing of Monarchia and your sudden transplant onto the Word Bearers flagship, or your growing child; Which has constantly caused you to feel ill up until recently. You absentmindedly brush your hands over your still somewhat subtle belly at the thought.

“I thought maybe seeing you for a bit help.”

You keep shaking and your mind is still racing even days later; It’s preventing you from getting much rest at all. Lorgar softens at your comment and beckons you closer with a hand.

"Come here then, I'd love for nothing more than for you to sit with me for bit."

You walk closer and he moves to sit down on his large chair, lifting you into his arms and sitting you in his lap sideways. It lets you rest your back against his right arm, legs going across his lap.

Taking his left hand he gently brushes it over your shoulder before he rests it on your belly, silently thinking. During it all however, he consciously avoids your arms, and his brow furrows for a moment when he sees your sleeves have ridden up to expose more of your skin.

Your arms and hands still have burns on them from when the invading Ultramarines set the entire palace ablaze, intent to smoke out anyone inside.

They'll heal, its the mental wounds you're far more worried about. For Lorgar more than yourself.

Apparently Lorgar had been not unlike a raging beast when he realized you were still trapped inside, and only managed to calm himself when you'd return to him, Word Bearers at your side. They’d hauled themselves through flames to get you if not only to then plead for their primarch to retreat; as even their legion mother was not worth losing their primarch and everything he had built.

Lorgar speaks up; His voice is quiet, but you can hear it fine in your little bubble.

"To think I almost lost you... Both of you," Lorgar moves his hand from your stomach to cradle your jaw. "I don't know what I would've done. You are my guiding light."

His grip is firm, holding you close as if afraid you'll leave, or be nearly ripped from his arms again. You gently touch his arm.

"I was afraid I was never going to see you again."

Lorgar's face softens, looking down at you.

"Don't worry. I will never allow that to happen again." You grasp at his clothing and pull yourself upward, him leaning down to gently press his lips to your own. The angle is still awkward with his height, but you just manage it.

The look in his eyes is dark when he pulls away, staring down at you as you lay so small in his lap. His tone of voice seems to change as does is attitude; He’s been even more mercurial as of late, to at least given circumstances it isn’t entirely surprising.

“They were all jealous of me, you know that?”

You at first don’t know who he means by that, but his latter statement adds some clarity. “They were all jealous of the world I built, the things I wrote, created,” Lorgar removes his hand from your jaw with a gentle caress, before trailing downward.

“They were all so jealous I found you, someone so beautiful, who understood me,”

His hand rests on your thigh and grabs the fabric of your dress, pulling it upward. Thankfully any cuts and bruises there have healed, since Monarchia. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth as you shiver from the air against your once covered skin, and Lorgar puts his warm palm against your thigh.

“Perhaps if they weren’t so intent on killing one another, they would have found love.”

You sense a subtle jab at Guilliman, who had not only been one of the more vocal Primarchs against Lorgar having a lover so close and intertwined with his legion, but as well as having tried to kill all that he loved by razing Monarchia.

Lorgar's hand slips between your legs, spreading your thighs across his own as his right arm still cradles you close to him. His fingers brush over your outer lips and instinctively your knees try to close, but you can’t with his large hand in the way.

“You’re already so wet,” He mutters as if in a way teasing you. “I know I haven’t been accommodating to you, as of late.” Your bed has been quite cold without him, too busy commanding his legions movement after the Ultramarine’s devastation and his newfound disgust for the Emperor.

But he still had you, he had said; All to himself. The news of you being with child had still been fresh in his mind happening only days before Monarchia was up in flames. It only seemed to further his possessiveness of you.

"I have always thought you were the most beautiful thing in the world," Your hands grip his clothing deathly tight, trying to hold yourself steady. "But something about you and our child, you keep getting more beautiful by the day."

His index finger slowly sinks into you, curling upward as he fully sheathes it inside of you. The way you’re sitting sideways, you don’t have much options to move, and so you’re stuck writhing in his lap as he has his way with you.

"Lorgar..." He makes you feel good, you want more, but you can't help but feel as if something is off. Nothing you can speak of to him, as you lean into his arm and your heart hammers against your chest. Your thighs quiver and shake as he slips a second finger into you, stretching you just enough to get the friction you needed.

You've been so sensitive since getting pregnant, it's not long before he makes you cum on his fingers. You cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your noises despite the room being empty apart from the two of you.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, but doesn't completely remove his hand from between your thighs. Instead as you feel your muscles twitch from the aftershocks he presses his finger against your clit, causing your hips to jerk from the suddenly overwhelming sensation. Within moments you're whining even louder than you had been earlier, the sudden overstimulation nearly too much for you to handle.He gently rubs, slowly pressing and rolling with his fingers before he eventually decides to slip them back into you, but he doesn't get much farther beyond just barely pressing against your entrance.

A firm knock on the door startles you, but Lorgar almost seemed to have been prepared for it. Perhaps he heard them coming, long before the knock.

“...Primarch Lorgar? You’re needed on the bridge.”

Lorgar pulls his soaked hand from between your thighs, and wipes it off on his clothing as he turns to look over his shoulder at the still unopened door. His other arm still holds you closer to him.

But while he is irritated by the interruption, you know that Lorgar enjoys the suffering, in a way. You know once his duties are done he’ll find you again and finally satisfy himself, after he’s waited so long it aches.

“Very well. I will be there in a moment.” Lorgar gently ushers you to your feet, hands hovering as if doubtful you won't fall.

“I can walk still, Lorgar.” You joke at him, and he smiles back.

“I know, I only worry.” His hand drifts across your jawline, before he stands fully upright; You notice him softly adjust the fabric of his trousers.

“I will finish with whatever they have for me, and then I will return to you. Get some rest in the meantime, I urge you.” You nod, crossing your arms gently.

Lorgar’s eyes are soft, but there’s a darkness in them you catch.

“But do be ready for me by then.”

[corvusspecialartist]

Beautiful Caged Bird:

You were an esteemed fighter pilot. You have served the Imperium well, ever since you were inducted in the Imperial Guard years ago. Coming from semi noble birth, this would have been one of the few ways, you could gain glory for your house. Ever since you were young, and on your home planet. You have always enjoyed the flight patterns of hunting birds, and even kept some as cherished pets. You always thought that they were the most perfect predators, just beautiful. Unfortunately, as you grew older, and life taught you a few things… you were wrong. The perfect avian predator that you knew of, was the Lord Primarch Sanguinius.

You were on campaign when you had met… you and your regiment were fighting a wild Eldar Host To be honest, you never truly liked them bastards, but you were the closest thing that was optimal air support that could be done. You were flying high in the air, approaching certain doom. You flew in formation, but soon you both would break. From previous experience, you knew, despite the thought being mere disgust in your mind… that the Eldar had better flying tech.. but no matter. You were only meant as cannon fodder no more, no less.

Then, as the Eldar came, before your eyes, your comrades were shot down in planes, almost as if a group of falcons were feasting on herd of ducks. But, no matter what, you held firm. Gripping the well-worn controls, you bobbed and weaved, avoiding most of the fire from the enemy craft. You knew the cockpit of your plane as if it was new limb. You swooped down noticing a large robot thing… instinctively you patted the plane purring to it. "Lets do this old girl" maybe, this was a way for you to soothe the machine spirit. You went and started to fly down.. applying as many G's as you could handle bumping up the speed into a dive bomb. The robot thing, turned and almost seemed to face you, but you turned your controls over trying to spin it over. It was no matter, you were a certified ace in the field. You had the trophies as proof.

However, things did not go to your plan. The robot thing moved with lighting speed and soon you noticed that you were loosing altitude quickly. You had to eject. After whispering a quick goodbye to the plane, you ejected from the plane. Honestly it pained you…watching as the plane flew and crashed. It gave you some form of pleasure that it landed in the center of the Eldar. Still… you adjusted trying to get your parachute out. Feeling, the blood go towards your head.. you noted that your parachute wasn't working and you felt the heated air as you started to fall and fall… You turned and closed your eyes, hopefully, at least you took some of the bastards with you.

Honestly, you were expecting brief pain, and oblivion until you felt wind and you started to move in a different direction. Nervously you opened your eyes… it was him.. the Great Angel,Lord Sanguinius. He was almost as perfect and even more so in the pictures… but honestly.. him.. just saving you like that… why you? You tried your best to not to look down. However, he was holding you in the crook of his arm, while holding his spear in the other hand. As you looked up at him, he was moving back to try and place you back in your regiment, at least you thought.

Now, you were in a golden gilded cage, screaming your head off and throwing the priceless art and trinkets at Sanguinius. It bounced off of him with almost a contemptuous ease, he seemed to stand there, just absorbing the hit.. almost as if he was he waiting for this latest tantrum to end. You continued to move quickly, just barely out of the reach of the serfs. Truly, you didn't want to be here, you wanted to be out on the field. The stagnant air within the room, the watchful eyes of both man and machine readying the alarm if you stepped out of the chambers. To add insult to injury, you swore that would could hear beautiful rare bird calls, as they flew down and called the sky their own.. like you used to. You walked up the Sanguinius and tried to push your way past him, but he moved to block you, and soon he quickly scooped you up. In that move you struggled and beat down on his back. He started to hum and soothe, moving you back and forth. His voice, it was so sonorous and beautiful…it knocked you out within a minute.

In your dreams, you were flying your plane… and you were just soaring. Until you saw the Sanguinius appear floating in front of the window. Instinctively you turned and tried to avoid him, but he pulled out the spear and sword and chopped the plane apart. Now you were falling and falling, as Sanguinius flew down and caught you. You pushed away and tried to fall back into the ground. You were at peace in the dream, until you woke up, smothered in Sanguinius' wings. It was comfortable but despite them being placed gently, it felt crushing… you felt your heart racing, as you moved in varying directions trying to push them off." Sanguinius, almost as if he were sensing your distress lifted his wing. You let out a sigh of relief, and let out a small welp as he grabbed you and started to preen over you.

He gave a softening grin. "What's wrong darling?… I heard you scream and freak out.. and are you alright?" You opened your mouth, trying to keep your heart rate consistent. But it would be hard to lie to him, since his abilities.. but he promised to not to read your mind. "It was just a nightmare…. my beloved." You gave a wide mouth smile, trying to sell the lie. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself. Sanguinius got up and pointed to a red dress. It was tailor made with hundreds of jewels and it fit your figure well. "We will be going to an event tonight… many dignitaries are coming. Our ship will be landing on the planet soon…" You nodded dumbly, as he got up and left.

As soon as he shut the door… you swore, but then you stopped… maybe… just maybe with Sanguinius being distracted you could escape. And it is not like he would miss you… You got dressed and started to prepare. Soon you would escape.

At the party, the host went and announced the arrival of Lord Sanguinius.. and with a small snide jab. "And his current consort." You gave a polished smile as you stood near barely hip height with him, and to be honest... he looked almost mythical.. his wings were decorated with finely golden strands with rubies inter spaced which made small noises as he walked. He wore a more Baalite fashion style, which many of the party goers tried to imitate. He wore beautiful embroidered robes with silken golden thread. His hair was curled into perfection, and you could even smell rare perfumes and spices that irradiated from him. It seemed to change depending on the light from black to blonde, he was smiling a warmly as you both went to the place of honor. You on the other hand compared to him, dressed very modestly and seemed to a speck of dirt. But, it didn't matter at the moment. It was a crucial moment... Sanguinius would naturally be distracted throughout the whole party.

It would come to pass, when you were rudely shoved aside, as a group of Navigators came by to Sanguinius trying to curry favor. You noticed his face turn into a light frown. But no matter, you gave a gentle grin to the primarch to try and soothe his temper. While, he had the good grace to not indulge his Thirst, he had to tendency of drinking more blood wine when under stress. In the meantime, you slowly moved away to the peripheral from the crowd, but not so far...You had to be careful, for moving in such a way could attract a knife in your back. But your outfit had come with the most finely protection, worthy of a favored consort.

"It is my turn to speak to the Great Angel! You had your chance!" A haughty nasal voice came out of the crowd. Some poor petty nobleman had tried to shout his way over to gain a rare audience of Sanguinius. But, given how contemptuous.. the party would probably begin with a brawl. Shaking you head, you started to run... you were out of practice sure, but you could find a place. You were dressed too nicely to be apart of any Underhive origin , but maybe you can commission a fighter jet to escape.

Hours upon hours had pasted... based on the way that the noises had become more quiet. You were at least leagues away from the party. You have been trying to stay out of the range by taking dark pathways and trying to avoid servants. You sat down to take a brief break... you were tired and feeling very thirsty... you dared to not drink any of the planet's water. But, you need a place to hide, and so you decided to crawl into a large vent, it was dusty.. long abandoned and based on the older stained.. it was used for servitors. Maybe you could take a brief rest.

You were shocked out of your rest as a loud alarm came out of nowhere. It was

' voice... and it filled you with dread.. yet it sounded so sweet and kind, he tried to call your name and try to bribe you out of your hiding spot. Internally, you just couldn't, you were so close... freedom.

Cursing, you thought about not changing your clothing... but just your luck.. a female servant was walking by your hiding spot. Immediately you grabbed her and put her in a headlock. After a good struggle, she was unconscious. Immediately you stripped off the party goer's clothing and replaced it with the servants clothing. It was mostly clean.. but no matter... as long as you kept quiet. You could at least escape.

A large thumping noises, and soon a large horde of noblemen was running down the same hallway all screaming their heads off. One of them went down the same hallway and took a deep breath. He was murmuring about how the Great Angel went mad. Based on the rambling mess, one of the noble ladies had said within earshot that in no certain terms that you had been assassinated, and that "an ugly peasant bitch isn't worthy of the Great Angel's love" Soon he fell silent as the masses ran by... but your heart started to drop... you heard the beating of wings. It was coming your way.

"Where is the nearest ship-port?" you whispered. The partygoers face twisted as if why would a mere serf ask that, before his face started to grin and opened his mouth. Before you could subdue him. "She's over here! " You immediately started to run full sprint. Your throat rubbing in raw... the beating your heart started to increase faster and faster as you heard the frantic wing beats.. only to collapse. No matter, you could at least crawl. Sanguinius appeared in front of you, white feathers falling as he stood, his hair askew and his wings still flapping despite him standing completely still... You started to weep. No... no... why? He picked you up and purred. "My little Bird where did you go?" "You weren't trying to escape? Were you?" You remained quiet. His mouth opened and now you noticed the heavy smell of blood. "WERE YOU?" he let out a shout, which causer your ears to ring. At your wince in pain, his face started to soften as he cradled over to you. "I'm sorry... I thought that you were dead... and I just cannot live without you." He pet your hair giving you a gentle kiss on the forehead.

That was a year ago.

Currently you were laying in bed, you needed the rest after all... you were preparing. Soon the door opened and your beloved entered the room. He was carrying a tray full of the finest of food, drink and wine. Sitting down he started to stroke your belly. "Have you come up with a name?" You shook your head as you slowly started to eat the food. As if you really didnt have anything to say, you had to keep the rest. You chewed the food and ate it in the fancy way, and even took the supplements! After all, they tended to even you out! You gave Sanguinius a kiss on the cheek and soon he left.

A/N: This (terrible) one shot is a result from the winner of the poll for the poem inspired for "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou. Read it here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48989/caged-bird

I will try and write out Corvus' one and soon and write out Part 3 of the Party Planning bit. This is my first time attempting to write Yandere Sangy.

[corvusspecialartist]

The Beloved Brood Mare (Demon Primarch Corax x Pregnant Reader)

A/N: This is Roboutian Hersey AU Corax. This guy in this Universe is object MENACE to society. He is essentially Bile, but as a free agent and as a primarch and Chaos aligned. In fact, in that canon they are described as one if not the MOST vile traitor legions. (If you are the AU writer... I am 50% sorry for writing this terrible fanfic for your AU) AND on top of that, this author gives A REASON on why Rushal joined the Night Lords.

Read it Here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10578370/18/The-Roboutian-Heresy

TW: implied forced pregnancy, rape

You arise. You are trapped in a gilded cage, for Warp knows how long. Getting up, you almost tripped over the golden chain around your ankle, it was a common occurrence by now. Even since the experiments... you have never truly gotten used to this body. Everything about you has been altered to aid the process of birthing.

You were essentially if the primarch body was female with none of the sterilization that would naturally occur. Like the Marines that guarded your room, you were an abomination. You could almost remember when this transformation happened. Glimpses of the Demon Primarch, an older Marine with many appendages, and a screaming captive Thousand Son...

You remember passing out and waking up in this new form... it was awkward.. but never mind... your "duties" had to continue. Corax occasionally visited, but it was very rare. Often to ask brisk questions in a white lab coat about the progression of the pregnancy, you answered honestly.. for he could tell if you were lying given the nature of his place...

Looking around your room, it was time... you could often get food as much as requested, but just enough to make it so you could survive the process... you looked down at the swollen belly. Around this time, it would be time for "breakfast". You were often fed a random assortment of ingredients... often to see the effect would have on the fetus.

You had often tried to escape from the room, often killing the Spawn Marines that stood guard outside of your room with contemptuously ease. The furthest you had gone was at least a couple of miles within the tower before you were hit with a neutralizing gas.

Every step you took, you felt the pain in your legs. you felt helpless.. you felt your two heartbeats move faster.. you had not really entered your body this much before... for Lord Corax demanded that you have minimum exercise. However, you felt a sharp pang within your belly. It was kicking again.

Maybe the pain was fake, a phantom feeling of the soul imagining how pregnancy felt like.

Maybe the room had some form of shielding to protect the fetus from what laid on the outside.

The resulted in resuscitation of you in a lab table in which your arms and legs were strapped. You could feel the eyes of many Marines all on you. Struggling you cursed and tired to escape, but the equipment held fast. Your eye adjusted to the dark quickly, until you saw him come into the room. You felt your skin upon the laboratory table, cold and unyielding. The overpowering smell of disinfectant, mixed blood and other gore made your stomach turn. You also noticed your legs were in stirrups with your privates facing the audience.

Lord Corax's face was scared from the years from captivity, You could recall memories of you being ordered to soothe him and tend to his scars. His face held a mixture of contentment and disdain. You could hear others whisper in the long dead Kivharian, and lean forward almost if they were excited what were to come next. Corvus gave close and his statue seemed to dawn over you. He approached you and stroked your hair almost as if it was kind gently. He was in front of you, and he held a syringe within his left hand and a forceps in his right hand. As if he were giving a lecture, He gave you an gentle kiss on the forehead.. before starting to explain the process. You felt something cold enter your private.. you tried to struggle and fight but nothing really changed, then a liquid flowed in. You started to scream and fight even more... but the lecture continued on. even after the process had been done.

You shook yourself out of that feeling and sat down... you knew that your tower didn't have windows. But, given the advanced the state of the pregnancy, he would visit. That was something that you dreaded the most. TO try and entertain yourself you started to sing, of course it was old Imperial tunes that you took to heart. At that moment.... the door burst open and Corax appeared.

Immediately you stopped singing...as he moved almost with a slowness, but your mind being unable to process it it he grabbed you by the arm. "Don't even sing that again." He said, his voice still maintaining that softness... he face was a warped tone of anger.. but then softed as he left go of your arm and forcefully sat you down on the bed. It was comfortable sure, but still.. you knew that in your heart of hearts he was only like this because of the forlorn hope that you could produce functioning Marines with working geneseed...

He started to coo as he stroked your belly.. "I hope that this one is a success.... this is your fifth this year. I do hope that this one lives you to expectations..."- you swallowed a bit before trying to move out of range.. but he followed you. "This one.. I tried to do it more scientifically..." He placed his head down.. "And it is growing far past expectations, I should move you... to a more safer place." He started to touch your hair which your bristled. He paused but chuckled. "Though... your womb is really only used for procreation... it does get boring tormenting them." You tried to move away, but he got up and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. He left almost as quickly as he came. You shuddered, why you?

[corvusspecialartist]

Caged Bird (Corax)

You were awake. You were brought here to the Dark tower of Deliverance. You had a nightmare, dreaming of disease and pain. Honestly, it was odd that you were having the same reoccurring dream. But never mind, you had a routine to follow. The owner of the great tower Corax, was away at the moment. This place was a monastery first, and your home second.

Getting dressed, to be honest, you had no idea of how long you were here exactly. There were no chronometers and only Marines attended to you instead of common serfs. The excuse that the primarch had given was that the serfs were on special missions for his cause. While, it maybe true…though maybe it was a way of training the newly fledged Scouts on how to deal with humanity. Getting dressed, in modest black robes. It was what you were comfortable with. You left the room and wandered around the section of the tower. You were given almost free reign on the tower, minus the Eiyre and the lowest floor.

Although, you tried to communicate with the occasional serfs that you have seen, they either ignored you, or spoke with harsh speedy tones. This had to be the some point in the early years of the thirty-first millennium , you remembered the time where the Warmaster Horus and the Emperor would hold a great triumph. However, when you tried to express this to the serfs… before they tried to hide you their faces contorted disgust and anger, before telling you that the parade would happen in a decade or so. Why would the serfs be so angry with the Warmaster in this way? Maybe this would be a question for Corax when he returned. Getting nowhere, you decided to return to your room. After all, maybe Horus could explain everything? You had tried to question the Marines outside about the whereabouts of the Warmaster and Lord Corax, but it was met with gritty silence. After that, you would spend time either entertaining yourself with the finest hobbies (with limited noon-sphere connection of course), and often read books. You could request certain titles, but they had to be approved. Many of your inquires on the history of the Horus from your favorite remembrancer were frequently denied… maybe they just didn't like their work.

That was basically your life… Day in and Day out. You lived a quiet life of luxury… often taking supplements whenever you fell ill from the rare disease. Until you day, you overheard the Marines guarding the area speaking. "Lord Corax, she remains unaware… though she asks about your brother and the current situation. She is showing no signs of disease either… except for the reoccurring nightmare." "Hm.. odd. I will be returning here within the week.. so keep a closer watch." You blinked twice.. trying to process the precious information that you had just heard, current situation?… what time and year was it? There were no clocks or windows in the room, at the time.. the excuse given was it was for security measures…and you had bought it at the time. You remembered going out with Corvus with this siblings and the other primarch consorts. To be honest… when was the last time you had seen them.. you were in good contact with your favorite one. But, Lord Corax was coming, and despite the feeling of deja vu, personally you did not feel anything. Maybe it was time for you to break one of those rules.. you needed answers. So you bided your time, waiting until the primarch arrived. Eventually, Corax had arrived in your chambers. the Scouts guarding the chamber had left. You turned and looked at the tall primarch… his pale skin, and with long black hair. He was beautiful, and some part of your mind yearned for him.. but you shook the thoughts out of your head. He gave a grin, yet it seemed sad. Approaching him, you asked. 'What is happening? Where's Horus?" Corvus turned and sighed. 'I have told you… He is busy at the moment… with wrapping up the Emperor's vision… " He trailed off. The answer proved unsatisfactory.. but he seemed so happy. So you decided to drop it to try and keep the peace. Corax approached you and picked you up hugging you in such a way that as if he hasn't seen you in a decade… He smelt of blood and chemical sweat. Carefully, he set you down. "Come on. We must have things to do." Maybe, you could find a way to loose him… and make it to the forbidden rooms.

It was not until hours had passed until you were put back into your room. Maybe that was intentional… but you were exhausted…you collapsed on the bed. Your dream however, was stranger… Your body was covered in many wounds and open sores… your teeth were falling out. You were on an unknown barge… You coughed letting out some blood. It was painful… and soon a large bloated figure appeared in front of you. He was wide with sickly yellow skin… he was taller than you and you could hear some faint buzzing. He turned and spoke to you. "Feel out the truth… and tell none of this dream." Somehow you could not place the figure… but then you woke up. You felt a cold sweat dripping down, the lights in your room… were still dark. It was now or never.

Quickly you got dressed and soon made careful steps, oddly the guard were gone. It seemed convenient.. but you did not dwell on that. Soon, you made your way throughout the tower, trying your best to avoid the serfs doing nightly duties in the area. After a while, eventually you made it to the forbidden area…The door was large and black.. and was bolted with many grav seal locks and chains… There had to be a way in. A thought went though your head. "Maybe you can enter in…using your clearance." It was true that Lord Corax have given you full access.. but it was worth a shot. Carefully, you placed your hand on the servo scanner, and to your surprise it opened. Honestly, it seemed rather weird. There were little to no guards…only serfs, and you were not quite sure if Marines could really sleep anyway. In fact, it was odd, how there were much fewer Marines… you knew that the Ravens were small in numbers.. but it couldn't have been that bad. The door made a noise and removed its servo locks.. you had to be quick. You entered and just tried to follow your instincts. Your heart was starting to pound, as you felt deja vu. Why exactly did you know the way?, were there others before you? You ran and entered the room and it was a horror. Rows of rows of vats of human bodies just laying in stasis. You almost stiffed a scream, but you have come so far to turn back. You carefully approached one… and saw you. Stepping back, running towards another.. it was identical. What was happening… your hearts started to beat as you backed and heard.

"You had to find out eventually." You recognized that voice. It was filled with sadness and regret. Lord Corax… "Why didn't you tell me?!" You shouted out… "That I am a clone?!" You backed away form him. "You… I never had a chance! To live… so that's were my dreams were trying to warn me!" He approached closer, his black armor merging into the darkened room, but his pale face sticking out like grim mask.

"How many of came before me? And How did.. the original die?" Corvus sighed… "You, original you..were on the Shadow Emperor on the Istvaan system… the ship and you were blown up by the Death Guard.., and you are the the fifth iteration."

You tried to turn and run… only to get grabbed and held up closer… his face… had tears coming from it. "I am sorry… I just couldn't lose you." You struggled and squirmed. How could he? You never had a chance. he other hand started to reach forward for you and you started to scream… and soon all went black.

Corvus had snapped your neck. He turned at your body and sighed. "It always seems to happen this way… why.. I should just stop." He raised a claw to the other vats… readying to destroy them.. but paused. "No. she just wasn't right." He started to hold your corpse clearly…"You will be given the greatest burial…" He had to make plans to drop of her corpse in mountains for a sky burial. Turning he pressed a button on the new one, the vat opened and the new you, would be take their first breaths of air…he would dress them and place them in a new room. He would try, for as long as it takes.. until you were back in his arms again.

A/N: This (terrible) one shot is a result from the winner of the poll for the poem inspired for "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou. Read it here: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/48989/caged-bird

[corvusspecialartist]

The Raven's Eye

Yandere Corvus Corax x Remeberancer Reader

Chapters 1

You were a proud remembrancer, you took so much pride within your craft. Although you were chosen from the best, you always had a small bit of bad habit. You sat and recalled a memory from your last boss that you had.

"What is wrong with YOU? You painted that?!" The primarch stood tall over you, anger radiated... from him like the rays from your home planet's sun. His body language was angry, like a cat pacing and ready to pounce. At that moment, you had painted Lion El Johnson in a normal painting showing the fight with Leman Russ. Remembrancers were supposed to keep their opinions about their primarchs to themselves. After all, Konrad's remembrancer's position is always still open.

The painting was an abstract piece, you had tried something different on the behest of another remembrancer. You turned to the Lord of the First and nodded with a grin. 'Why of course my lord I just painted what was on my mind" It was the closest you have come to death as a fast moved out faster than you can see and grabbed you by the neck. Struggling and gasping for breath.. "You dare put that in my presence... you can always just work for another" He applied a bit of pressure. Your mind was struggling and the mentioning of working for the dreaded Haunter made your heart beat faster and faster.. You tried to give gasps for air and made gasping noises... Until you were dropped and coughed. He bent beside you and chuckled. "If you wanted to change primarchs then why didn't you just ask" He gave a crooked smile while turning away. "Pack your bags... I am sick of your parasitic presence on my ship. Thank your stars that you are at least useful."

You shuddered at the memory. After all, reassignment was the hardest bit, after all no one really knows where they would go to next. You had packed up your artists bits and the other remembrancers came by and said their "goodbyes". You had at least the sense to know that they were eyeing your open rank. Still you let up a silent prayer despite the illegality of it. You prayed that you weren't going to the Eighth. Now you were in a modest, yet discreet craft meant for transporting Adminstraum members. You sat in the bunk and continued to paint. You weren't going to give up the new thing. Adjusting the easel, a self portrait often passed the time. It was an abstract thing with heavy themes of darkness, after all. You had always been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Still you were always an optimistic person and maybe a new scenery. You put down your tool and decided to rest, if you were going to die well at least you would go out with dignity.

In your dream, you dreamed of your home and parents.. and our home.. You savored those memories.. You talked to others. Transitioning into a ballroom party that your father had to celebrate planets joining with the Imperium, something was odd. A tall pale man came by pushing through the crowed. He was rather tall for a human and dressed in a black and purple. He wore a golden carrion bird mask. As he moved, the gentle music changed falling silent.

He approached you and got down on one knee and kiss your hand. "Would you care for a dance, Your Highness". It was a polite formality, but something felt wrong.. your heart beat faster.. the man had no eyes to look when looking through his mask. "No thank you, sir." You gave an abashed grin and backed away slowly.

The Man's face and form started to change reflecting the bird mask. You started to run in as the bird-man thing starting to fly while crowing... making occasional dive bombs . You felt his claws miss your back. You dare not look at the man.. the hall seemed to stretch out for longer and longer... You knew that you couldn't keep this up... you saw the hope of your salvation... an alley.. You immediately dived and ducked as the bird man passed by you. You steeled your nerves trying to keep your heart rate down so that IT would not be alerted to your location.

You covered your mouth as you heard a large thump on the distance far away... you gave a whimper as your heart was pounding. You saw him pass by. He had raptors feet with thick strong legs. His wings were something... there was some feathers falling out.. He had long black hair. You saw the man pass hearing his footsteps pass away.. You let out a sign of relief and turned next to see a bird. It was all black with a large beat and feathers that made it have a little "beard". It hopped closer and closer to making clicking noises and bopping its head. You decided to pet the raven holding it close taking deep breaths.. The man was gone. Your thoughts were running elsewhere where you didn't notice the bird changing... It grew taller and when you noticed you were staring into the eyes on a man with a pale face with long dark hair. He was holding you carefully in a bridal style His eyes were completely soulless... He gave a grin and asked the question again. 'You care for a dance your highness?" You let out a scream and rolled over hitting the ground with a loud thud, You got up and tried to run away only to be blocked by a wall of cawing black with viscous beaks.. You turned and ran before bumping into the man. He bent down getting closer and closer as you yelled before.

You woke up.

You took a breath and looked around you... you even pinched your self. You were in reality... and alive. Your sighed and grabbed your sketchbook immediately... Often you drew your dreams, and this was no exception. A feeling of doom that you felt during the dream lifted as you sketch your stalker in the dreams. When you had finished... the man looked like the Haunter but different, a tad bit softer perhaps. Still that nagging feeling still was there, you were always going to be watching you knew this, but it was like someone was just there following you and all of your intimate moments.

Still as you were getting ready, your stomach lurched.. it was a sign that was universally recognized as entering real space. A private vox system had told you that the craft had been hours in reaching the destination. Your thoughts often ranged from "I am going to die to Might as well make the best out of bad situation" After all, if you were going to die then you were at least going to look your best. You went and got out your nicest gown and put on the best makeup.

Leaving the cabin, you went to the captain's quarters approaching the door. You gave a deep sigh and knocked on the door. The captain was a short porty woman. She gave a grin and turned her face towards you. "So Remeberancer Anon! You are awake, and finally come" She turned her back to you and sighed. "We are nearly there now..." You were sweating bullet and thoughts "When is she going to tell me where we are?" The captain as if sensing your ire or distress turned and said. "We are within the docking process for the moon Deliverance."

Deliverance.... not Nostromo

You could have almost kissed the captain. the day was looking up. You saw new life... you were not going to be suffering a long and gruesome execution. Yet in the coming years and later... you would come to realize.

"Maybe you should have gone to Nostromo."

After the meeting with the captain, and with the feeling of new life on your mind. Immediately you went back to your quarters and packed up your belongings. Even though the serfs would handle most of the movement of the gear, you did not really like people messing with your art supplies. You sighed...recalling the brief close up of the moon. The dark side was full of light despite the empty surface, mining most likely. However, other side of the moon, that was intriguing. There stood a tall black tower, there were also other buildings around it. You sat down on the bed and decided to give a quick sketch of the tower. After all, it was your first things you have seen on the moon. After some time, you felt the ship lurch forward suddenly. Getting up, you went back to accompany the captain. Looking out you noticed that you were underground with lumens that flickered occasionally. The captain approached you giving a gentle bow. "Sorry, Remembrancer but this is standard protocol, we have to get checked in." You gave a pacifying nod trying to not to let the terror show in your face. At least back with the other boss, you could at least make out what was some resemblance of "up" but here... one wrong move, could lead to your doom. You felt your heart pounding, so you decided to thumb through your sketches in order to pass the time while the captain rushed around trying to get the clearance codes and accesses. Despite having prior knowledge of your arrival, there was always some menial that HAD to be on some power trip.. continuing to thumb through the sketches calming down. That was until you reached called Haunter (?). The one drawn after that horrible nightmare... you looked at it with clearer detail. You felt your heart start to race again... no this cannot be right.. you took deep breaths. What was your subconscious trying to tell you about this man? Putting those thoughts on the back burner and noticing the captain cursing out someone on a vox com link. Soon you would get out of this underground hell...the captain came over to you and gave a grin showing slightly yellowed teeth. "Good news Remembrancer! We have been expedited and soon we will reach the RavenSpire Quickly!" You raised an eyebrow... "The RavenSpire?" The captain nodded calling over a servitor that spoke in a robotic voice.

The servitor showed a holo-vid of the primarch. You stifled a gasp and shook your head.. no.. it couldn't be. The captain waved its hand in front of the Servitor in order to shut it off. AS she did so the ship surged forward, and landed with a flourish. The captain gave a chuckle. "That's our cue rememberancer." You gave a jaded nod.. while looking at your sketchbook at the portrait of Haunter (?). Erasing the title you wrote with a shaky hand, yet in pretty calligraphy. 'Corvus Corax' Getting up and walking with the captain and approaching the shuttle door.. the door opened with quiet ease and inward marched two Space Marines... They dawned black armor and on their right showed their Legion insignia... it was a white bird that was painted on them. The marines matched in and said with a accented High Gothic "The delays had been for too long. Lord Corax demands to see them" the Marine pointed a power glove towards you. "Come with us." "Do not worry" The other said, "Your luggage will be transported to your quarters during your meeting with Lord Corax" You held your sketchbook close to your chest and gave a long lingering glance to the captain.

You followed the Marines.. you were curious about everything and taking in the surroundings. The Ravenspire...the Marines marched through a large feasting hall decorated with trophies and skulls. There were scattered groups of Marines taking breakfast. You made a mental note and decided to sketch that part of the Raven Spire. You were secretly relieved that you had decided to dress very well. After all, first impressions of primarchs are make or break. Mostly break. Though, you wondered... why Corax and not the others? Still, at least it wasn't the Phoenician. In the start of your career, you remember getting a scathing review about your art that bordered on unnecessary. You were fuming, but your training had made you keep it to yourself. You shook out the memory as the Marines marched you to a large elevator. they stepped in first and indicated you follow. You stepped in, as one of the marines pressed a button and spoke clearance words. The elevator started to move upwards with smoothness. Eventually, the elevator paused after a long awkward silence. The Marine gave a gesture. 'Welcome to the Eirye.' They stepped out and you followed. You blinked trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness... You clutched the sketchbook close to your chest saying an olden chant that you said in your home language... to steel your heart. You certainly didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of the primarch. Stepping forward, you nearly bumped into a giant man. So this was him. He was much larger than the marines that accompanied you. His face was framed with long sable hair that fell to his shoulders,his face looked chiseled from marble set with obsidian eyes for frames. Yet on closer inspection, there was no whites in his eyes. His face was sharp and wired with a small line, indicating a frown. He was dressed in a modest black tunic with embroidered white edges. Tall and wiry which was an oddity unlike, like most primarchs, you knew that he had power behind every movement. Around his neck, was a simple cord with a skull? It was birdlike, and yellowed with age. You took a small step back, as the giant man bent down at the waist. "So you are Rememberancer Y/N correct?" His face didn't change. You nodded and gave a shaky grin. "Yes My lord." He gave a approving nod and turned and walked into his studio. Taking this a cue, you followed him into a study. It was huge, your eyes could barely take in everything. It was a curricular room in thick stone. Around the edges of the room were many book shelves that were stuffed with parchment. Interspersed between each book shelf was a large door, you were curious about where each door went.

Corax walked to a desk where stacks of paper work were placed haphazardly. He sat down and indicted a spot in front of him. "Pardon the mess." He was already behind schedule, and unfortunately this meeting would have to be short. He saw the Remembrancer and bent down at the waist to inspect them better. To be honest, he was relieved that he was able to acquire this precious Remembrancer. He shook his head at that. No, they were just the standard. He internally had went through their artwork, and found something that was refreshing truly compared to the others. Honesty. He saw their recent work, that had gotten them removed from the Lion's presence. Corax, personally, had always respected the Lion. He always had been loyal to their father, but still he was rather touchy on his ego. A lot of his brothers were including himself... he admitted with a sigh. He turned back to the Remembrancer. They were sweating buckets, he honestly wanted to try to calm them down and assure them that they would be alright, and that they were in no danger. However, a different part of his brain whispered. "They're here for mocking a primarch, plus you can use this to your advantage to keep her in line..." He dismissed that thought with a careless flick of his hand. He turned back to the Remembrancer "I am keen that you bought your sketchbook with you. Do you mind handing it over?"

You heard the hidden undertone. You sheepishly handed over the sketchbook over with a nervous hand. You gave a grin trying to ease your racing mind, watching as Lord Corax flipped through the book methodically, yet he stopped on a page and his mostly neutral expression changed in a blink to a small frown. You started to feel a tad bit nervous...what if he didn't like any of it? You had gotten so far now, and he to denounce or even worse... send you to HIM. You gave a tiny shudder. Your training was going to waste here... you mentally chastised yourself. Why were you acting in this manner?! You were so out of it.. you didn't notice that the primarch had placed the sketchbook on the table. Corax gave you a gentle look. "Remembrancer Y/N?.. You are free to go. Commanders Andolus and Kuis will escort you to your quarters. " At those words, it seemed to break your spell. You grabbed your book and took a look around... maybe you would sketch this later. The primarch remained at the desk still working on paper, you knew that he was watching you more intently than you would have liked.. But it was no matter.. At least you live for another day.

Corax as soon as he heard the elevator leave his private chambers. He sighed taking a momentary pause. He called up the recent sketch of himself... it was oddly perfect. But why. But something really set him off... the original title of the piece. He was not and will never be like his brother. His frown deepened a little bit as he felt a tad bit of shame, as he watched the newest remembencer go. Why? Emotions and convoluted feeling always ended up in disaster, specifically with someone of his magnitude and rank. After all he had read so many stories of slave masters use their power to abuse others to get their way. He felt something boil up before taking a deep breath. Not here. Not now. There was endless work he needed to do so that his legion missions can be completed with efficiency.

In the meantime, you alongside with your Marine escorts had arrived in your room. It was very much lavish in comparison to the recent places you had been staying in but very utilitarian. In the room had a large bed, alongside with a dark covered nightstand. Across the room was a window that had long black drapes. Not like you would ever be closing those curtains anyway. You stepped into the room after bowing to the guard. Entering the room, you noticed to your right a second door, stepping foot was a washroom, with a shower. You were shocked. Very few people were allocated such a function and you felt rather honored in that regard. The room was black as per standard with a sink, toilet and shower. Still, as you heard them trudge away.. you took the sketchbook that you had and walked over to the bed.. Tomorrow was going to be your first day and well, you needed sleep at the very least. You prepared for bed, trying to adjust to planetary jet lag You climbed into the bed and before you knew it. You were asleep.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Womb

Summary: You become Horus' cupbearer, unaware of the true role he has prepared for you.

Horus Lupercal/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power imbalance, manipulation, forced medical procedures, breeding kink, dubcon

Word count: 4008

Author's note: Well, first of all, this is the most uncomfortable drabble I've ever written. Traitor Horus is a creepy dude. Secondly, I found the song he listens to every time before he goes to see his wife.

Song: Le Destroy - Breed

Crack the whip, break the skin Breed, breed, breed Take it out, push it back in Breed, breed, breed, breed

War spared no one. Neither the weak nor the strong, neither adults nor children. Everyone suffered, trying to find salvation in a Galaxy drowning in flames. You were one of trillions of people thrown out to be slaughtered at the whim of the Emperor and the Warmaster.

It didn't matter who you were in your past life. Whether you had many rights or were almost on the level of serfs. Whether you could provide yourself with everything you needed or you had to work until you were exhausted. All that mattered was that you were weak and defenseless. Meat that could drown the ambitions of demigods.

But instead of sending you to work like other slaves, they prepared a different fate for you. A much more luxurious and safe life than in your past. At least that's what they told you. They promised you a bright future, but you didn't believe a single word of it. How can the future be bright when worlds are burning in the fire of battle, and people are captured on ships like cattle?

You couldn't hope for anything good. Especially when you were told that you would be the personal cup-bearer of the Warmaster himself. The slaves who explained the rules of the job to you, preening you along the way, tried to calm your cries. They said that he was very kind to his personal servants. Besides, he chose you himself. Of all people, fortune smiled on you.

Perhaps you could have believed them, convinced yourself that everything would be fine. But you saw pity in their eyes. Saw relief. "It's good that it wasn't me," they thought. And it would have been better if they had said these words, and not the ones they constantly said out loud.

He likes you.

Damn them, they could have kept silent for the sake of sympathy. But sitting on the floor in the Warmaster's chambers, you wanted to hear their babble again. If only not to sit in this oppressive silence. Perhaps one day you would have been glad to be on the "Vengeful Spirit" and serve the primarch. But now you would gladly refuse such an "honor".

As soon as you hear the door creak, you immediately rise. You hope that your master will not see you trembling. He will ignore your reddened eyes and not pay attention. Hoping that Lupercal will show mercy to you and let you go would be too stupid and naive. Besides, as the slaves said, he desperately needed a cup-bearer.

He likes you.

Looking at the primarch, you were stunned. Thoughts got confused in your head, and your lips parted, unable to squeeze out sounds. Before you stood a massive giant, a creation of the highest human mind. A man who cannot be looked at without awe. One of the best warriors and politicians of the Imperium. The most beloved son of the Emperor. At least what he used to be.

Now before you stood a primarch who looked more like a daemon than a man. Horus' once beautiful face had become gray and old. But even with his short grey hair and wrinkles, the Warmaster looked like an old man, but he wasn't. He still towered over humanity and was ready to live a long, if not immortal, life. His bright, hellish eyes practically screamed it.

It is said that the sight of a Primarch would make weak-willed people weep in awe or even faint. Those who could cope with such feelings still felt the rapture of meeting the son of the Emperor himself. But you felt no awe. Only pure fear.

Horus smiled softly at the emotion he evoked in you. It only made you tremble more. How could such a gentle smile appear on the face of pure evil? As if Lupercal still saw himself as a hero despite the atrocities he had committed.

“Please, do not fear me. I promise I will not harm you.” - the Primarch slowly approached you and knelt down, as if talking to a wild, frightened animal. - “What is your name?”

You barely whisper your name, hoping not to burst into tears. And yet, a small worm of hope stirs in your brain. The Primarch probably knew your name, but still asked it out of politeness. Or out of a desire to calm you down. Perhaps he really will not hurt you?

“A very beautiful name, like its owner.” - your cheeks warm up and, under someone else’s laughter, you shyly lower your eyes to the Primarch’s chest. - “You will have simple duties. Clean the chambers, serve me drinks and food if I ask. And be near. I ask no more. Will you do this for me?”

You nod, thinking over his words, as if tasting them. Such a kind attitude towards you from the Warmaster baffled you. But he has no reason to deceive you. So why not let the man circle you like a wolf in sheep's clothing? As long as he keeps it on, you are safe.

“Yes, Warmaster.” Your voice is quiet compared to the Primarch. You cannot see his terrible face, but you feel it spread into a smile. You imagine it on a younger, truly kind Horus, not on your master.

“I am very glad to hear that.” The man's hand twitches slightly, as if to touch you. But instead, he rises from his knees and walks towards the table, leaving you behind. You inhale, realizing that you have not been breathing at that moment.

***

The job was easy, really. Horus Lupercal didn't ask much of you. Although you had a hard time handling the jug in your hands. But the primarch lowered the cup low enough for you to pour wine into it. He didn't have to do that, and yet the primarch took into account the difference in size.

He might not have cared about your needs. Yet you got the most comfortable, the best room among the slaves. In addition, your quarters adjoined the primarch's chambers. And you did not have to worry about who or what you would meet on the way to your lord. When you realized that the bedding was made of silk, you gulped. As a free citizen of the Imperium, you could not even imagine such luxury.

But that was just the tip of the iceberg. Your closet (you had a closet!) was filled with a huge number of sets of clothes. Including shoes and underwear. And even though it was obviously a servant's clothing, it was made of too fine a material. Too beautiful. The Sons of Horus pattern stood out in particular.

And that's not even mentioning your rations. Not to mention slaves, many free citizens of the Imperium could never afford such a sumptuous meal. Your entire diet was carefully selected. The food was tasty and healthy, and considering that you were forced to eat strictly at certain times, your stomach was always full.

You felt safe. Safer than ever. And the Warmaster was a kind. Even though you were frightened by his appearance and the deeds he had done, even now he exuded an inhuman charisma that confused you. His care was suffocating, but you could not refuse it.

Deep down, you hated the Emperor's beloved son, now a traitor, for what he had done to your home world. For what he had turned the Galaxy into, which he had once sworn to protect. But alas, with each day that Horus spoke to you, the burning feeling of rage gradually faded.

“You know, my sons used to attend the Iterators’ classes.” - the man’s voice is filled with sadness and you look in surprise at the Warmaster, who has thoughtfully settled into his glass. - “There will come a time when the wars will end, and my soldiers must be prepared for a peaceful life. So I said.”

Lupercal winces and throws back all the liquid before slamming the cup down on the table. You take your time filling it, unable to take your eyes off the man. The conversation is too frank for you to simply brush it aside.

“I love war. It’s in my blood. But I also love peace, I wanted the Crusade to come to an end. And for my sons to receive the recognition they deserved. For all the blood they shed for humanity.”

A wicked grin appears on the old man's face and you clutch the jug tighter.

“But not my father. Not the False Emperor. He wanted to get rid of us as Thunder Warriors. We were always tools, but I did not think he was truly going to destroy us. Did all those thirty years I spent with him on Terra mean nothing? I really, truly, unlike my brothers… saw him as my father.”

A crushing silence falls in the chambers. And although you still feel fear and the thin thread of hatred has not yet completely broken. You already feel something different towards Horus. A bright feeling that you did not think you would feel towards this monster. Sympathy.

“I am sure you would have been a better father.” - the words escape on their own, but you do not regret what you said. You really thought so, listening to the Warmaster's stories about his sons. Even about the “prodigal sons,” traitors like Loken, Horus spoke with unprecedented sadness. And with the hope of meeting again.

You see how something breaks in the man. Was it your imagination or were there uninvited tears in his terrible eyes? But the man only smiles brightly at you and holds out a cup, which you immediately begin to fill. Trying to ignore the primarch’s devouring gaze.

“Thank you, my dear. It means a lot to me.”

It is only praise. Just gratitude for kind words. Recognition from a mortal girl who will continue to remain in the shadows. You repeated all these soothing words to yourself, scolding your long tongue. Only it was too difficult to ignore the strange tension between the two of you.

And this was only the beginning.

With each passing day, you became more and more entangled in the nets kindly laid out by the Warmaster. You were afraid of his behavior, you saw that there was a ruthless monster in front of you. But you couldn’t help yourself, willingly following his lead. There was something bright in the man, which made you simply open up to him.

He increasingly talked to you about his past, hopes and dreams. You listened to his stories with unprecedented interest, akin to awe. Not because Horus chose you as a personal listener or remembrancer, if you could say so. It’s just that at such moments you forgot where you were, drowning in thoughts under the man’s voice.

And if before you tried to behave as quietly as possible, now you did not hold back your emotions. If before you stood still like a wooden soldier, now you could sprawl right in the chair and put your hands under your head. But most of all, Horus liked it when you were located on the floor right at his feet. This is how children usually sit when listening to a fairy tale.

“You had a terrible childhood.” - you purse your lips, pulling your knees to you. - “It’s terrible when your whole life has to be tied to death and battles. Especially from birth.”

“I didn’t approve of such rules either, but they appeared on Cthonia for a reason. Radiation, lack of resources, dangerous lands. You’re right, it’s not the best place for a child.” - the man looks into the distance, delving into his memories. - “But it was my “birth” there that brought peace to this lost planet. And I will bring it again when I arrive on Terra.”

Horus smiles softly at you and you smile back uncertainly. You couldn’t say exactly when you stopped being afraid of his inhuman appearance. And although the Warmaster sometimes withdrew into himself and it seemed to you that he was talking to himself, you became more and more attached to him.

You want to ask more about the gangs, but a sudden knock on the door confuses your plans. You quickly get up from the floor and move away from Horus, looking at him uncertainly. Should you open the door and let the guest in? You had already forgotten that there were other people on the Vengeful Spirit. And not only mortals.

But Lupercal stops you encouragingly with his hand before saying, “Enter.” You turn into a shadow again, and, having glanced at the Space Marine unnoticed, you even want to hide under the blanket, like a little girl.

Perhaps once, like his gene father, he was handsome. But now a man with the same disfigured appearance stood before the Warmaster. The new sewn-on face looked too unnatural on the man. And hearing that the guest was called Little Horus, you only cringed from the specific humor of fate.

But the worst thing was his look. Not because it was blazing with hellfire, not because they were covered in blood. It was just that Aximand occasionally, but still looked. Glanced at you. Like a beast ready to attack. You felt his invisible hands wandering over your body, stopping at places that were especially interesting to him.

When you had to pour wine for Little Horus, it was hard to stop trembling. He was still talking to the Warmaster, but at the same time he was staring at your face. Not at all embarrassed by his behavior. The worst thing was when before leaving, he turned to the Primarch, but he immediately answered “No.” You looked at the Warmaster with gratitude, who was smiling reassuringly at you.

“Please forgive my son. He is not yet accustomed to the presence of women.” - your uncomprehending look caused the Primarch to chuckle. - “I told you that my father planned to destroy all the Legions? It was for this reason that he took away my sons'... desire. So that they would never even think of creating a new generation of men."

The gears in your head begin to turn like a machine. You look at Horus in disbelief. "And you-"

"Yes. I gave them back what was taken from them. Of course, not all of them have fully grasped their new needs yet. And some can be a little... rough. But they learn quickly." - the primarch lowers his gaze to the bowl, speaking too slowly and quietly, almost seductively. - "Though I would welcome someone to show Little Horus what tenderness is. My son has been deprived of it for so long. He deserves a little peace, don't you think?"

Your silent and stunned expression said it all for you. The man chuckles, reminding you of a very pleased wolf.

"Well, all in good time."

***

You are becoming more and more confused. You do not understand what role fate has prepared for you. Why can't life be simpler? The fact that the servant (even though you were the Warmaster's own cupbearer) had her own servitors was already a misunderstanding. But when Horus inquired about you undergoing the necessary medical procedures, it became completely uncomfortable.

You were not tortured. One could even say that they took care of you all these weeks. They conducted medical examinations, treated you extremely tenderly, as if you were made of porcelain. But at the same time, they clearly performed operations. About which they told you nothing, not devoting you to a single detail.

Once you burst into tears in front of one of the medics and said that you were scared. You do not understand what they are doing to your body. But the woman stroked your hair and assured you that all the augmentations were personally approved by the Warmaster. They will noticeably improve your life and make your body strong enough.

"Strong for what?" the woman never answered.

The last time you went to the medic, you woke up in bed, expecting everything to be calm, like the last time. But in your lower abdomen, you felt a pain like you'd never felt before. It was like someone had punched your uterus multiple times, turning it into mush. You quickly pulled the covers away before sobbing loudly.

There was blood between your legs. Too much blood. All the white sheets were covered in it. Where did you get so much blood? Are you bleeding internally? Gasping, you touched your lower lips, unaware of anything wrong, before moving your hands to your stomach. You felt nothing. Nothing. But something was wrong. You couldn't be bleeding that much.

Did they cut out your organs? Did they put something in you? What did they do?!

“Am I dying?” Your muffled wheeze escaped through the flood of tears as you desperately thought about what to do. “I'm dying. Cut it out, take it away. What's inside me? What's there?"

You didn't notice when the medics managed to enter before you felt yourself being pressed hard into the bed. Panic attack. Hormones kicked in. Full compatibility with implants. Bless Chaos. What are they talking about?! But even if you had the strength to resist, it quickly leaves you as soon as the needle pierces your arm.

Darkness covers you. But instead of saving and peaceful calm, you find yourself in a nightmare. You hear the disgusting laughter of the people around you. No. Daemons. They laugh at your sacrifice, at your suffering.

They want to swallow your soul. Tear your body to shreds. But the only thing they can do is drip saliva on you. And laugh. And whisper. About how soft and pliable you are now. How easily you will stretch and fill up. What wonderful meat and functional organs you have. How well you have been transformed into prime cattle.

Into womb.

***

This time the bed is warm. And so damn soft. You feel like you're sinking into it like a little kitten. You wish you could curl up into a fetal position and never get up. But a noise nearby reminds you that you can't hide in this place. That you'll never be alone.

You slowly open your eyes and lift yourself up on your elbows. You realize with surprise that you're right in the Primarch's bed. The man, unarmored, is sitting on the edge of the bed. Bright yellow eyes are watching you. A gentle smile appears on his face.

"See, Sanguinius? I told you she was strong." You looked around the Primarch's chambers in confusion. There was no one else there. A chuckle was heard nearby. "She's so cute under the anaesthetic. Now leave us alone, brother."

You pull the blanket up to your chin, not taking your eyes off Horus. The chambers are unusually dark, only a few lamps are lit. But it seems to you that even if the room were pitch black, you would still see the primarch.

“He’s gone, you have nothing to fear.” - the man moves closer and puts his hand on your leg. It would be easy for him to break your bone. - “The medic has been given a full report on your condition. All operations were successful. But how are you?”

Your heart squeezes from the knife of betrayal. He promised that you would not be harmed. That you would not be hurt.

“What operations?” - your throat is hoarse from tears, and your eyes have long since dried out. - “Horus, what have they done to me?” - panic again engulfed you from head to toe as soon as you remembered the liters of blood. You began to choke from an excess of emotions.

Seeing what was happening to you, the man pulled you to his chest. Softly and tenderly hugging as much as his strength allowed. You pressed your cheek to his massive chest, trying to even out your breathing. The smell of sulfur permeated the clothes and body of the primarch.

“You have been prepared, dear.” - the man’s languid voice envelops you, penetrating into your insides. You want to run away, but Horus squeezes you too tightly. - “Taking a man is quite a difficult experience for a woman. And a primarch even more so. But I want to do everything right. So that our child is born as it should be. Like a human.”

The words left your mind. You felt deceived, so pathetic and insignificant that you had no strength to fight. You could not and did not want to blame the Warmaster for anything. Just let it all end. Just let him shut up. But as always, Horus opened his soul to you.

“I love all my sons. And yet, it was not I who did not raise them. I was not in their lives from the very beginning. I had never had a connection with any of them as strong as I had with my father. I wanted to feel that same feeling, but in a different way. To be an example. To be a mentor. To be a real father. But better.”

“My legacy will not be grown in test tubes and used as a tool.” - the Primarch’s tone darkens and becomes lower, which makes you press yourself closer to the man you want to hide from. - “I will not get rid of them. I will not abandon them. I will be a better father than my own. And you-”

Horus unhooks you from his torso, still holding your shoulders. You can hear your own heartbeat in your ears and how your whole body is stretched like a string. A monstrous smile lights up his old gray face, and his eyes burn brighter than ever, promising a future you have never seen before.

The Primarch slowly lowers you onto the bed, undressing you along the way. You can only sniffle and continue to watch. Continue to listen. All the slaves said you were lucky. But no one promised you that everything would be so easy. You yourself are to blame for your naivety.

“My father may not have wanted grandchildren, but Chaos was kind enough to tell me how to make them. The best specimens were collected, capable of enduring surgery and occultism. But of all of them, I chose you.” - a monstrous palm gently touches your cheek. - “I liked you immediately. So pure, so kind, so fragile. The perfect mother for my true sons.”

Your now naked body is covered in goosebumps from the cold. But as soon as the Primarch is on top of you, waves of warmth pass through you. Tears gather in the corners of your eyes, but instead of withdrawing into yourself or pushing the man away, you cling to him. Hug him.

You are scared and alone. But beyond these chambers, it is even more terrible. You could have ended your life in grueling work or under the weight of a Space Marine. You could have been experimented on by soulless people or devoured by daemons.

But Horus will protect you. He was evil, he breathed it, he was the very embodiment of darkness. And yet the way he spoke of you with tenderness, the way he touched you... you won't have a better option. You may have fallen into the clutches of a wolf, but with you he would gladly wear the skin of a sheep, if only you were not afraid of him. If only you loved him.

"I'm sorry that you are afraid. You see me as a monster, for I was created for war. But I sincerely wish for peace." - the man whispers in your ear and you are surprised to realize that he is crying. - "And after the death of the Emperor, it will come. I promise you."

You sigh, feeling a foreign organ between your legs. But your renewed body, albeit with a stretch, still accepts the primarch. You say nothing to Horus, instead allowing yourself to cry quietly. While your body fulfills its intended role. And you know that this promise will not be kept either.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Sleeping Beauty

Summary: While you sleep peacefully, a bloodthirsty monster called Angron guards your dream.

Angron/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, power imbalance, guilt, angst, trauma

Word count: 1214

Author's note: I want to write a full fic about Angron, but for now there's only a drabble. @kit-williams, I remember you liked him the most, so I encourage you.

Song: Tiamat - The Sleeping Beauty

The sleeping beauty She stops the bleeding She stops the bleeding in my soul She is fresh air in this stinking world.

Beyond the planet, in the vastness of space, it is always dark. And yet people still cling to the banal day/night settings. Even in the 30th millennium, despite all the technology, people needed to sleep. Angron was a primarch, he could go without sleep longer than usual. With nails, it was even harder to calm down.

But you needed to rest. And despite Angron's desire to keep you near him longer, to hear your voice, he could not deny you basic needs. He could not force or torture you. Besides, even sleeping, your presence calmed the man. Although the pain from his nails was still noticeable.

In special moments, when the rage was too strong, he was afraid to be too close to you. You were too weak, too fragile to be broken in a matter of seconds. Agron could control himself, but the very thought of losing you caused a strange burning in him. He did not want to risk it.

Your sleep is deep and carefree. Wrapped in a silky, warm blanket, you saw beautiful dreams. Peace and safety were felt around you. While the primarch, like a hunted and wounded animal, sat in the very corner of the room, watching you without stopping.

Luxury, carefree joy and comfort were alien to him. Life was not kind to him. And he did not want to be kind to himself. Not after he abandoned his brothers and sisters to die on the battlefield. Not after he betrayed them. They deserved warm food and shelter.

And yet he allowed his quarters to become a little more comfortable so that you would be better off. Previously, you lived very close to the primarch, enjoying the illusion of freedom. But with each passing day, his nails dug into your head more and more. So soon you began to sleep next to him.

Many mortals and World Eaters silently wondered what was so special about you. They whispered, they envied, they glared at you. So be it. Angron cared nothing for their opinion. He cared only for you. The main thing was that you were fine.

He did not want to make you his slave. You were a kind and gentle girl. You did not deserve such a fate, even if the Imperium openly used serfs. You were not a warrior, not like his brothers and sisters. You could not fight for your life. Any attempt would be doomed to failure. So Angron swore to himself to protect you.

He had already lost his family in Nuceria. He had already cursed the blood of his true father, the gladiator who had raised him. He remembered every face, every voice and movement. Every promise made in battle and every dream of how life would have been if Nuceria had fallen.

Angron clenches his fists and bites into the flesh. The familiar metallic smell of blood fills the air. Just a little, but still, this action brings the primarch back to reality and he comes to his senses. No, he should not let rage fill his mind. He is not in battle and besides, you are very close.

You are very beautiful. Do you know this? How often do your admirers tell you, if any? Angron will get rid of them. Your soul is serene, like a river flowing or like fog. Reminds you of the moments of calm when Angron hid from the slavers in the mountains.

Angron respected only a few mortals and Space Marines. Those he cared about were even fewer. But you burrow deeper into his soul, opening his skull. He remembers his past self, who he could have been if not for his nails. You awaken in him feelings he has never felt before. And did not think he would feel.

You made him human.

Once he saw you crying. You immediately wiped your tears and greeted him with a smile. You admitted that you missed your friends, whom you had not seen for a long time. Yes, you were afraid of him, but you still treated him kindly. As if you saw something good in Angron. But he was not a good man, not anymore.

Angron himself took human slaves. The weak and defenseless, whom he, no, the Imperium, was supposed to protect. He was not proud of it. He took no pleasure in it. Angron only wanted to destroy the Emperor as quickly as possible, and so he used human lives while they were useful to him.

How would life have turned out if Angron had met you earlier? If you had been born in a different time and place? It had been only a short time since the triumph of Ullanor, since the height of the Imperium's power. But now trillions of people were forced to suffer because of Horus' betrayal.

He betrayed the Emperor. But Angron was never loyal to him. And you knew it. You knew his entire story, you listened to every moment of his life. And you accepted him. You may not have been on Nuceria, but you shared Angron's every pain, every anger, every tear he shed. Now he could no longer cry. But with you, at least for a moment, he could feel relief.

You twitch in your sleep. Your lowing voice breaks the silence like a bolt from the blue. Angron's hearts twitch in pain, but he can barely contain it. He rises slowly. Too slowly, he approaches the bed and looms over you like a shadow.

If there were an outsider here, they would be horrified by this image. How a bloodthirsty and too powerful, too unstable primarch looms over a mere mortal girl. Like a beast about to close its teeth around a yielding neck.

But Angron can only watch. He used to devour the nightmares of his brothers and sisters. But over time, he forgot how to do it. You bring peace to his soul, but he cannot repay you in the same way. He cannot calm you, make you happier. Why? Why?

It is not fair.

But after a moment, you immediately calm down. As if you sensed his presence. The man frowns, as if he wants to cry. But he can only look at you with fury, as if he wants to tear you apart. You saw protection in him. Love. But Angron burned with anger. How could you see anything good in him? Feel safe with him?

His hand automatically reaches for your serene face. How much he dreamed of touching you. Without fear that he would break you. Gently run his hand through your hair. Brush away an uninvited tear from your cheek. Almost chastely touch his lips. Angron could do it. Right now, while you sleep. But he does not deserve it. You have already given him too much.

The man carefully hooks the blanket and pulls it up to your chin. You sigh in relief, feeling the warmth and bury yourself deeper in the fabric. Drowning in serene calm, where Angron has no place and will not.

His lips twitch, ready to turn into a grimace. But in the darkness you will not be able to see his bestial grin and glowing red eyes. Even his loud voice sounds enveloping, like an embrace.

“Sleep.”

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

His Sun

Summary: After the Monarchy, the Emperor takes Lorgar's wife as punishment. He finds out that she is pregnant and for the first time in millennia remembers love.

Emperor and Lorgar's daughter (OC, platonic), Lorgar/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping

Word count: 729

Song: Rammstein - Sonne

This fic was born because of this beautiful post.

Of all His sons, Lorgar was most like Him. Every detail of the appearance was amazingly similar. Even facial expressions. And it was this son who became the biggest disappointment. The Primarch of the Word Bearers was too slow to annex worlds to the Imperium. He tried too hard to restore the planets by staying on them for a long time.

But worst of all was the cult of worship of the Emperor as God. The Emperor could not allow such... heresy to spread. Fully aware of what lies the Warp. And the decision to destroy the Monarchy was carried out immediately. Besides Lorgar’s “wife” on Terra will serve as a good lesson for the primarch. He is a weapon, not a man.

The fact that the mortal was pregnant... The Emperor was not a monster. He had no intention of killing a child, especially in the womb. But it could become a hindrance. A distraction for Lorgar. Fortunately, although the child was affected by the warp, it was much less than the primarchs due to a mortal mother. In addition, it later turned out that it was supposed to be born a girl. She won't be much of a hindrance.

Or rather, that's what He thought.

The creation of the primarchs was pragmatic. They were created to protect humanity. The Emperor had no intention of getting rid of them and even planned to create a comfortable life for them on Terra... of course, after they had completed their task. For some of His sons He even felt a similar feeling of affection. Especially to Horus.

But this girl. This girl was not born according to the plan of the Emperor or Chaos. The natural way. She had no task other than just to live. And when the Emperor heard the triumphant cry of life. Something broke in Him. He remembered.

He once had children. Real and beloved from mortal women. In times of peace, when he gave up trying to move humanity forward and allowed the Earth to develop on its own. He adored them and raised them with dignity and intelligence. His sons were His pride. Although He liked girls more. They always looked at their dad with such adoration.

And they all died. They all left Him. And it hurts. A void that nothing can fill. He could no longer allow Himself to love. And yet, seeing this girl, knowing that she should have lived longer because of her father, if not live forever... He gave up.

He simply could not help but look at her sleeping in her cradle. He couldn't help but sing her songs from His childhood. Hold her in His arms. Kiss her forehead when she starts crying. She developed so slowly, so normally, completely humanly. She needed all of His care and love.

Lorgar will get his “wife” back as soon as he starts leading the Crusade properly. A mortal woman was of no value to the Emperor. But the daughter will distract the primarch. He should not hear her first word, see her first steps, tell fairy tales, teach her the wisdom of life, console her and give her his soul.

But the Emperor can do this.

He will make sure that Lorgar's daughter has the best of everything on Terra. His little sun will be raised with dignity in a beautiful Palace. He will help her find her path and purpose, but only on the condition that she will be by His side. Of course, someday a girl will want romance and build her own family. But it won’t be soon and the Emperor will come up with something.

The girl bursts into laughter as soon as her stomach is tickled. Soon her teeth will begin to cut and her wonderful eyes will become moist with tears. But He will always help relieve her pain as long as she is happy. He smiles back, continuing to bathe her small body, continuing His story about centaurs. She doesn’t understand Him yet, but that doesn’t stop Him from having a conversation with her.

He will show her all the wonders of the world. His little treasure will see all the beauty of the galaxy and grow up in a world where humanity will flourish. They will have so much time. A month of Sundays.

He will never let His daughter go.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Eternal Night (Part 2)

Summary: The first captain and the serf become more and more attached to each other every day in a dark and obsessive way.

Jago Sevatarion/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, power imbalance, violence, torture, predator/prey

Word count: 2169

Song: She Wants Revenge - I Don't Want To Fall In Love

I know that you're the right girl But do you think that I am the right man?

You really hoped that by joining Sevatar’s service you would quickly learn everything. After all, all your life you have been the servant of an aristocrat, not a space marine. Especially the Night Lord.

But you're lucky. Your only duties were mopping the floors and taking care of the bedding and workout clothes. It was pointless to clean the armor of blood and human skin. The more terrible and intimidating they looked, than better.

It seemed that the First Captain did not need a personal serf. He got along just fine without it. But you weren’t going to complain about such a gift of fate. There are even fewer responsibilities than when your mistress was alive.

You bend over to the floor, wiping away the dirty stains with a rag. A relieved sigh escapes your lips on its own. The pain, which lasted several weeks, finally went away.

Sevatar ordered that you get a tattoo right on your back, near your left shoulder. The ink was mixed with the blood of the first captain. This way mortals will understand that they cannot touch you. And other Space Marines will feel where you belong. It was very painful. You didn’t scream, but the tears flowed naturally as the sign of the Night Lords appeared on your skin.

When you arrived at Sevatar’s quarters, he only chuckled with satisfaction when he looked at the final result. And you were almost certainly sure that he liked your eyes, red from tears. That night, lying in the corner on your mattress, you couldn’t sleep. It was also painful to perform simple duties. But you were finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Where were you born?” - a male voice comes from behind you while you are scrubbing the floor. You didn't need to look to know that Sevatar was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. As always.

“On Terra. On the lower levels.” - you try not to remember the corpse of your mistress, plunging into memories. - “I was very lucky. One of the aristocrats decided to organize charity and sent many poor children to a special school. After that, we all had to go to serve the rich.”

You sigh in guilt.

“I became his granddaughter’s maid.”

There is silence in the room and you think that the first captain has become uninterested in this conversation. But he only grunts in response.

“There wasn't much of a choice, right? Either poverty or service to others.” - the man speaks in a relaxed voice. You only blush because the Astartes compared your destinies. He didn't look mocking. - “Did you even like it?”

"Yes." - you remember how the sunlight fell on the stained glass windows. And you little one looked at this spectacle with admiration. Until the teacher scolded you for the amusement of the other girls. A moment of innocence. - “I loved performing in the choir.”

You return to your duties, wiping away the dried dirt, trying not to look behind you. Sevatar was silent, but you knew that he was thinking about his life, over your words. Perhaps if you were different people and in another place, he would admit that you have a beautiful voice. You couldn’t say how, but you knew for sure that this thought flashed through his head.

You were mostly silent. But in rare moments, Sevatar began to talk. Mostly when he was relaxing in bed. You asked each other about life, giving in to a completely spontaneous desire to get into each other’s soul. It was strange and possibly wrong. But you both couldn't resist.

“When did you kill the first person?” - you didn’t know why you decided to ask your master about this. The question arose naturally. Sevatar remained silent and you dared to continue. - “They recruit young boys into the Astartes. Did you kill a man when you joined the Legion?”

The man looks at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his back. Finally he speaks.

“No, little one. I killed a boy of my age when I was nine.” - the man looks at your discouraged face and laughs an unpleasant laugh. Only dead people laugh like that. - “You won’t survive on Nostramo any other way. I had to defend myself as best I could. Capture and take what I want. Even eat.”

Sevatar looks at you carefully. Either joy or pain splashes in his eyes.

“If you ever have to eat human flesh, little mouse. Don’t try the eyes, you won’t like it.” - the first captain closes his eyes and turns to the wall, as soon as you nod. Good advice. You will remember it. The main thing is that it is not useful in life.

You wring out the rag, pleased with the result. The floors almost shone with cleanliness. Although it was difficult to notice given how little light there was in the Space Marine's quarters. Immediately thinking of your savior, you can’t help but glance at him briefly.

He was still lying on the bed. Sevatar forbade you to do anything in his absence. Quite the opposite. It was when the man should have gone to bed or simply rested that you should have started cleaning the primarch's room.

The more you moved, while trying not to make noise, the better. The top was supposed to consist of just a tank top. So that your tattoo is always visible. Hair was strictly forbidden to be tied.

Serving Sevatar was easy, but his requests were awkward.

The Space Marine suddenly awakens and you flinch at the sight. The man sits down on the bed, rubbing his eyes. Sevatar looks around the room, noting with obvious displeasure that you performed your duties extremely well.

It's even kind of offensive.

“Already cleaned up. Apparently you will have to go around the second circle.” - Sevatar grins when he sees your disappointed face. - “Looks like I spoiled you, huh. Next time you’ll help with sewing.”

If the Night Lords sew, it is only cloaks made of human skin. You immediately go back to work. Again you pass the rag over the now clean floor.

Only this time the man was in no hurry to fall asleep again. Instead, he looked at you. For a long time. Appreciatively. Even too much.

“I changed my mind.” - the man snaps his neck. - “Come here.”

Where is here, you wanted to ask a stupid question. But could anyone blame you? No matter how kind the first captain was to you, he still caused fear. Not to mention, you were completely alone. No one would help you anyway. And yet the absence of even the slightest chance made you sad.

The man beckoned you with his finger and you obediently approached him. Sevatar, without saying anything, took your hands in his. He examined the palms and touched the delicate fingertips. You pursed your lips in embarrassment. A moment later, black eyes peered intently into your face. You thought you would drown in this darkness, until strong hands suddenly turn you around.

Sevatar lays your back on his lap and you freeze. You can’t help but tremble, breathing heavily through your nose. The man had scared you before, but now his behavior was perplexing. Not to mention the size difference. You didn't even reach the floor.

Rough fingers touched your tattoo, slowly rubbing the flesh. Touching the lines of the skull and wings of the gargoyle. Squeezing a little, leaving bruises on the body. You swallow as Sevatar takes in the scent of your hair. You could even hear the beating of his two hearts, he held you so close to him. The man seemed lost in his thoughts.

***

“P-please, I didn’t d-do anything. I would never betray the Imperium. H-have mercy. Don't torture mee."

Sevatar, unlike some brothers, did not catch unfortunate serfs or captives to pull off his skin out of boredom. He did it just like now. By order of the primarch or as necessary. But this does not mean that it was not unpleasant for him to do it. Just boring.

The brothers standing next to first captain loudly argued about who would torture the traitor next after the first captain. But as soon as the man looked at them angrily, they immediately fell silent. Now they decided to settle the dispute by playing rock-paper-scissors. Although it makes no difference who will be next. They're here for a long time.

“This is punishment for betrayal.” - the space marine smiles unpleasantly at the crying girl before gently running his knife across her stomach. The victim screams in pain. There is a characteristic smell of urination in the room. - “No more than that.”

Well, of course he's exaggerating here. No matter how Konrad Curze tried to hide behind nobility and justice, he liked it. Fear and horror, complete submission, screams and pain. Sevatar would be a hypocrite if he said that he is not the same.

The annoying scribe lost all her arrogance and turned into a carcass. It’s good that she decided to go against the primarch. She was annoying. And how could such a brat have such a good maid like you?

The first captain sighs, cutting off a strip of skin, just remembrering your vision. You were good. Quiet. And funny. Your bump on your forehead amused him for a long time. But most of all, you calmed him down. There was something unusual about you. And familiar.

How did you move. Sneaked among the shadows, flying from one place to another. Either to your nest or ran to friends. You played with food, although like any scavenger, you should to eat rats. How quietly you spoke to the other serfs, and your trembling changed the tone of your voice. How quickly you moved, causing your hair to make pleasant noise. Reminiscent of the rustle of feathers. Even your eyes were big and attentive. 

But the birds are free. And you are not.

The victim chokes on tears and snot, and Sevatar only smiles at this picture. You're especially vulnerable right now, right? Without a mistress, alone, in a terrible eerie Legion, which will gladly offend someone as small as you. You probably need a protector.

The first captain grimaces from strange thoughts. The man moves away from the prisoner, waving his hand. Let these impatient bastards replace him.

No, he didn't need personal servants. He didn't need them. And yet, for some irrational reason, he was considering taking you in with him. Although he already had to look after four mortals. It was also not enough to add you to this list.

On the other hand, you won't be a hindrance. And lately his... Gift has become more acutely felt. The crows are far away, but you are close. Not a bad replacement. So why doesn’t Sevatar make an exception and take you to his place? You will help him relax, and he will protect you from his Legion. At least once in his life he will do a good deed.

The first captain just chuckles at this while the sound of tearing skin is heard from behind. The room is filled with a metallic smell and the inhuman scream of a half-dead woman. But Sevatar hears only the rustle of wet black feathers.

The man breaks away from your hair, inhaling its scent. He grins at the back of your head as he continues to stroke the tattoo.

He didn't have to offer it or take it by force. You came to him yourself. Begged him to save you. At first, Sevatar even thought that you were a crazy suicide. But you were an ordinary girl with oddities. And it's not to say that he didn't like it.

You turn to face him, making your hair slide across your skin. Sevatar can't help but look at your face. Parted lips, flared nostrils, big eyes. Yes, your skin looked good on your skull. There's no need to rip it off.

And the smell. He felt your fear. Uncertainty. Fright. But at the same time there is a bit of hope. Trust. You wanted to believe him. Your kindness was not an act. Or trying to survive. You're strange.

His head is empty. No bad thoughts about the Crusade or the Legion. The dull pain no longer numbs the brain. It was as if he was back in the night city. Again felt the touch of feathers. After ascension to the Astartes, he was finally able to sleep properly.

His tongue automatically begins to move over your tattoo. You squeak sweetly in fear before falling silent. You try to behave as still as a mousekin in the clutches of a scavenger. Only the predator will not let go of its prey even if it is already dead.

The hair rustles pleasantly near the man's nose. Rare uncontrolled sobs only provoke more. And the intermittent breathing and pounding of the heart echoes loudly in the ears like a croak. The eyes close on their own.