"You're telling me to form a new alliance?" Juno asked, sipping her tea. Her legs were crossed under the long robe that cloaked her body.
"You heard me right, Juno," Hathor replied. She had been ordered to continue the crusade, the final stage of unification, the dawn of a new golden age. Though Hathor had good relationships with most of her sisters, her bond with Juno was less intimate. "Sanguinia is unstable, both in body and mind. You might accuse me of trying to tarnish her reputation, but I was the one closest to her," Hathor said, sighing as she looked past the window from the conference room down to the artificial garden aboard her ship. "The Emperor trusts her, and he trusts her with Jared, Juno. He's not safe with her."
"And where is he safe? Four months ago, your legion ordered his regiment to charge straight into the ork stronghold, didn't they?" Juno spoke quietly. The room, capable of holding hundreds of marines and mortals, was empty except for them.
Hathor grunted, feeling guilty at the thought. She had absentmindedly ordered his regiment, exhausted and angered by her duties as Warmistress and the short leash the Emperor had on her. Her father did not tell her where he had gone or what business he had. She had no one to hold onto until Jared was introduced into her life. "It was... a miscalculation," Hathor admitted.
"Hah? Well, that makes sense because he hadn't caught your interest yet. At that time, he was just a mortal, expendable to you, wasn't he? If not for Petra's intervention, the Orks would have claimed his squad," Juno countered, picking up the pict Petra had given her, showing the last stand of Jared's squad against the green tide of Orks. "And what makes you better than Sanguinia? Both of you are willing to hurt him to get closer to him, manipulate him in every aspect of his life. Don't pretend I don't know about the girl you sent to Lioness."
Hathor's hand moved swiftly, clutching the throat of the Lady of Ultramar, her eyes bloodshot with rage.
"Enough!" Hathor shouted, throwing Juno to the corner of the room, causing a crack in the wall. "I came here to form an alliance of good intent, but you ruined it."
"See?" Juno said, coughing as she stood on shaking legs. The handprint on her neck stood out against her relatively white skin. "You have a short temper, too much pride, Hathor. One day, you will kill him, accidentally or not." Juno spat blood from her mouth, staring dead into Hathor's eyes.
"Stop..." Hathor looked down at the floor, her hand clenched, the image of Jared grasped in her hand making her shudder with fear, angered at how accurately Juno predicted her. "Just tell me... who do you choose?"
"What will happen if I choose Sanguinia's side? Will you kill me?" Juno asked, entering a defensive stance.
"No, I just want to know," Hathor said, sitting back down in her seat.
"I choose neither of you, for now." Juno walked slowly toward Hathor. "Remember, Hathor, he's with the Emperor. A wrong move may result in something beyond your power." Juno walked out of the room, leaving Hathor alone in the vast, silent room.
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"Are you sure this will work?" Ferra asked Fulgrimia inside her workshop. Both lifelong friends, they often shared plans and secrets.
"Of course!" Fulgrimia replied cheerfully, circling Ferra. "What could be more perfect? Father hasn't ordered us anywhere, so why not visit Terra?"
"I have to discuss something with the Terrawatt clan's elder," Ferra said, avoiding Fulgrimia's grinning gaze.
"Oh, so I'll have him all to myself?" Fulgrimia teased, lightly jabbing at Ferra, who continued overseeing the armor forging process.
"No! I mean, I'll go with you after I finish my business," Ferra stammered, blushing—a sight only Fulgrimia had seen.
"You'd be more attractive if not for your cold demeanor and choice of outfit, but you always said you're not fit for that," Fulgrimia remarked, strolling around the workshop. "I made him blush in normal attire—his reaction was adorable, but sadly you weren't there to see."
Ferra sighed, turning her attention to Fulgrimia. "I heard you and Sanguinia caused a fuss. What happened?" Her expression grew serious.
Fulgrimia stopped in her tracks, smiling smugly. "Oh, me?" She grinned dangerously. "Just what any woman would do alone in a room with her man. He looked cute in my embrace, no?"
"You... wait, did you already?" Ferra's face flushed, her grip on the newly forged helmet tightening.
"Bawahahaha, you should see your face, Ferra," Fulgrimia laughed. "I never thought you capable of that. Do you really think I did 'that' to him?" She strode closer to Ferra.
"Well, knowing you... I figured you would," Ferra admitted, her face still flushed but regaining composure.
"No, no, no. What kind of person do you think I am?" Fulgrimia crossed her arms. "Some cheap woman who jumps when in heat?"
"Well..." Ferra scratched the back of her head. "Kind of?"
Fulgrimia facepalmed and sighed. "Having multiple husbands doesn't make me that kind of person. Most of my spouses were political or arranged marriages. They were fine with me, and most died of old age. I bore them no more emotion than any other mortal—except for Jared."
"And what of Sanguinia?" Ferra asked, concern etched into her features. She bore no ill will towards Sanguinia, who had maintained relatively good relationships with most of their sisters. "I heard she fights with almost everyone there."
Fulgrimia's face darkened. She knew Sanguinia would be a problem, but she hadn't expected trouble to start this early. Her plans were now in disarray. Despite Sanguinia's charisma and angelic beauty, there was a ruthlessness to her that Fulgrimia found unsettling. "Unlucky? She started faster than I thought. I wonder if my poor Jared will be scared of her."
"I suspect so," Ferra replied. "Her aura will make him submit to her every whim, something you lack. He will either fear her and be unable to resist, or slowly begin to embrace her influence. If left unchecked, Sanguinia will eventually win him over, and there will be nothing we can do except confront her directly."
"Ugh, why would you side with her? But you're correct. She's too dangerous, even Hathor stood no chance against her, well, except once," Fulgrimia sighed.
"Let's hope the Emperor gives her and her legion something to do on Terra, or our plans will be ruined as well," Ferra said as she resumed her work.
"Oh, yeah about that..." Fulgrimia paused as she dug through her thoughts. "I heard Petra was with him. Who would have thought a woman like her could muster this kind of thing?"
"Well, that's unexpected. Are you afraid of losing to her?" Ferra mused. Compared to Fulgrimia, Petra was no match, but still. "I mean, she's no ugly duckling; rather, she's a beauty. Remember, she comes from a noble family."
"No! I will not lose, not to her," Fulgrimia protested. "Losing to Sanguinia is understandable, but to that Iron Queen? What's next, me losing to Atalanta, the fool who always fumes with anger?" Fulgrimia scoffed at the thought.
"He managed to change Aurelia in just a few months," Ferra's voice thickened with seriousness as she continued to calibrate the newly forged armor. "Something even The Emperor couldn't do. With that, I think his ability speaks for itself, but I still worry. Is it warp sorcery or just his own power?" Ferra asked Fulgrimia, sure that spending a few hours with him could reveal something.
"Eh? What do you mean?" Fulgrimia tilted her head. Ferra wiped the sweat from her forehead before answering.
"I mean, do you find any clues why he makes beings of our caliber act like this? You know, this weird feeling like getting hot whenever I look at his picture, or just thinking about him. This isn't something that normally occurs, Fulgrimia," Ferra sighed.
"Oh." Fulgrimia grinned. "It's called love, my friend. LOVE. Something that happens frequently to normal humans." Fulgrimia chuckled.
"Love? Do you mean the chemical reaction that makes humans go into heat and become reproductive? No, I don't think the Emperor gave us that ability." Ferra blushed, some kind of degenerate thought popping into her head as she tried to brush it away.
"It's emotion, Ferra. Like the love for humanity the Emperor has. We also experience emotions: anger, sadness, sorrow, happiness. But none of us have experienced LOVE—not the kind of love for humanity or one's soldiers, not sibling love. It's the love for soulmates, for someone to hold on to in the darkest days, someone you can trust, and of course, for reproduction." Fulgrimia chuckled as she received a light jab from the blushing Ferra.
"Fulgrimia!" Ferra jabbed her a few more times before stopping, covering her face with her hands as she shied away. "B...but we can't..."
"We can't what?"
"We can't reproduce?"
Fulgrimia laughed before stopping silently. "Dear sister, may I ask something?" She looked at Ferra with a grinning face.
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever tried?" Fulgrimia asked as she sat down on a metallic chair in the room.
"Tried what?" Ferra asked, half embarrassed and confused.
"Ugh, you're as dense as adamantium!" Fulgrimia sighed. "Have you ever had sex, dear sister?"
"Do you mean...?"
"Yes! I mean sex, the act men and women do to repopulate."
"No... I never even had a partner... and that thought never crossed my mind, not even once," Ferra said quietly, shying from the confession.
"Exactly! If you never tried, what makes you think you cannot? If the Emperor didn't want us to 'do that,' he wouldn't have given us the ability in the first place." Fulgrimia huffed as she sprinted toward Ferra, her hand cupping her breasts down to the area between her legs.
"F...Fulgrimia! Stop!" Ferra said as she tried to push Fulgrimia away. "This is not what we should do!"
"But that's what we'll do in the future if we want to make a move on him, of course. Now, the only thing left is his preference in bed..." Fulgrimia made a thinking pose, her hand rubbing her chin as she closed her eyes. "What do you think he likes?"
"In bed?"
"Yup."
"Sleep?"
"Seriously, did the Emperor forget to include human instinct when making you?"
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Clang
The sound of lightning claw meeting spear echoes through the hallway, disruption fields crackling at each impact, intensifying the electric discharge.
Constantin Valdor whirls his Apollonian Spear backward before thrusting upward. The Night Haunter dashes away, her lightning claws dragging across the floor, leaving terrifying gouges like flayed skin. A squad of Custodes rushes into the hallway, surrounding Kassandra Curze in a circle. She eyes them with disinterest before flicking her attention back to her true prey—the vulnerable Sanguinia, whose thin white robe barely covers her body, armed with only a Power Sword. Petra stands behind her, which complicates matters. Kassandra's vision reveals Petra's tail aimed and ready, but another glimpse shows her being struck by stray bolt shells should she proceed recklessly.
Clang
Lost in precognitive fragments, Kassandra is jolted back to reality as Constantin Valdor rushes forward, countering the Night Haunter as he recognizes her intent.
"Please surrender, Lady Kassandra," Valdor says softly as he attempts to overpower the Emperor's creation, only to be pushed back and kicked away. In one swift motion, Kassandra closes the distance to Sanguinia, who shields Jared behind her. Before she can strike, the mortal steps between the sisters, placing himself directly between lightning claw and power sword, mere inches from death.
"What are you doing?!" the sisters exclaim in unison.
The Custodes hurriedly yank Kassandra away, but she breaks free as quickly as she's caught, sending five Custodes flying through the air.
Kassandra feels both terror and concern. Her vision never revealed this future—this moment. She knows now her precognition isn't infallible, no future certain, not even the death she had assumed inevitable.
She never saw this coming—never anticipated this mortal would do something so reckless. One hit and he'd be gone, beyond reconstruction, his body torn to pieces by her hands...
"No!" Kassandra howls, clutching her head as tears stream down her pale face. A vision comes too late, too horrifying even by her standards. "Get it out! No! No! Stop! H...help me!" She collapses, rolling on the floor.
The Custodes approach steadily, magnetic restraints ready to return her to confinement.
The Emperor coughs—whether in Jared's mind or physically remains unclear, but it serves to capture attention nonetheless. "Now, now, what did your mother teach you when you see a girl cry?" Jared senses smugness in the Emperor's voice, like some sarcastic squad-mate offering unwanted advice.
Jared sighs mentally. 'My mother died when I was six. She only taught me how to get my shit together, that's all. You didn't know that?'
'That's why everything that's happened to me remains fresh. I have no experience—I know more about lasguns than this kind of thing. You're her father. What would you do?'
'Don't you see what my Custodes are doing right now?'
Jared glances over as he's pulled closer to Sanguinia. Lady Petra positions herself protectively before them, anticipating some reaction from their siblings. He peeks past her to see the golden guardians approaching the sobbing woman, bearing devices of distinctly inhuman design in their gauntleted hands.
'Oh,' Jared realizes mentally. 'They're going to capture her.'
'Affirmative. And I don't want that. No father wants to see their child captured and thrown into confinement.'
'But...'
'Cough Do your thing,' the Emperor commands, his tone deadly serious. 'Get her back on her feet.'
Jared falters. What exactly does He want? For Jared to fight those guardians? The warriors who could slice him into perfectly butchered grox meat without effort? True, he has two primarchs nearby, but that's hardly reassuring. The Emperor wants him to somehow help that primarch currently writhing on the floor?
'I've always enjoyed gambling, anyway,' Jared sighs as he breaks free from an unprepared Sanguinia. He darts away from Petra's grasping hand, pushing his twenty-four-year-old body faster than he's ever managed. Not even when Orks were about to turn him into living ammunition had he expended such desperate energy.
The Custodes are caught off-guard. They attempt to intercept him, but somehow—inexplicably—he weaves between them. The light footsteps behind tell him Sanguinia is in pursuit. Damn it! His time is running out, all this desperate effort wasted!
He lunges forward, diving toward the sobbing primarch who remains oblivious to her surroundings, consumed by mind-shattering visions. In her tortured mind, death seems preferable—she deserves death, she's guilty, not him. He is her light, the brief illumination in her dark existence, the tether pulling her back from madness. Her last episode was months ago; she hadn't sensed ugly justice she used to feels. She had been judging and delivering justice better, her well-being improving—but now he'll die by her hands? And afterward she won't die, won't face execution, her siblings leaving her to suffer the aftermath alone.
Something breaks through the horrific vision—a warmth enveloping her, reminiscent of the Emperor's light yet distinctly different. It's unconditional love, a sensation so foreign she momentarily wonders if she's dead. Is this the Emperor's peace? Has Sanguinia killed her? No—death shouldn't feel this good, shouldn't make her hearts race with such vitality.
Kassandra's eyes flutter open to find Sanguinia and Petra staring at her with shock painted across their faces. Why does the Iron Queen look so startled? Does she appear that pathetic? Her gaze drifts to the Custodes standing at attention. She hates them, these golden jailers who would cage her again—yet something holds them back. This pleasant, unfamiliar warmth makes her want to surrender to sleep.
Looking down, she discovers the source: a black-haired mortal embracing her, his face pressed against her breastplate.
Her eyes widen as her arms instinctively enfold him, returning his embrace with equal fervor. Fresh tears stream down her already salt-stained face. This churning sensation in her gut remains alien, yet she craves it desperately. She wants to grasp it forever, never relinquishing this feeling—not now, not ever.
Crisp footsteps echo down the hallway as the Custodes step back into formation, creating a path for their master. The Emperor observes the scene before him—his not-so-normal child trembling, her quiet sobs reaching his ears. Like a child crying from mingled happiness and sorrow, it's a sight he never expected to witness from his creation, yet he accepts it completely.
He signals the approaching Sanguinia to halt. This moment must not be disturbed—a rare metamorphosis unfolding before them, the transition from darkness to light, like an ugly chrysalis yielding to a beautiful butterfly ready to soar toward greatness. He will not allow anyone to interrupt this transformation.
The embrace between the two lasts half an hour before Kassandra finally releases him. Her face remains marked by half-dried tears, but a faint smile crosses her lips, revealing her teeth. Life has returned to her eyes—more vibrant than before she'd even begun to cry.
'What's happening to her face?' Jared wondered. He knew primarchs embodied perfection—beauty and talent incarnate—but this transformation seemed beyond even that.
Before he could process the thought, something pulled him forward. Dangerously close. A large, slick tongue invaded his mouth, bringing with it the metallic tang of blood and a primal, musky sweetness that overwhelmed his senses. It explored every corner as something sucked at his lips. He tried to pull away, but the hands cradling his head held him with unyielding strength. His own power drained away as his heart thundered in his chest. His hearing narrowed to just two sounds—his pounding heartbeat and wet, hungry slurping. His vision blurred, whether from oxygen deprivation or something else, he couldn't tell.
After what felt like minutes, the hands finally released him. Their mouths parted, and though his vision remained unfocused, he could see the pale primarch before him smiling—a grin stretching from ear to ear, her eyes bright with newfound vitality. Emperor's mercy, she was beautiful. Or perhaps that was just his kiss-addled mind playing tricks.
"So," the primarch said softly, her voice trembling yet resolute. "You'll take responsibility?"
The hallway fell deathly silent. The custodes, already statue-like, became utterly immobile. Even the being who had created the primarchs stood speechless. Sanguinia seethed with anger at both the act and Kassandra's words to her beloved, held back only by Petra, whose mouth hung open in shock.
Jared's expression cycled through confusion, terror, and embarrassment—it had been his first kiss, after all.
"Uhh... what do you mean by 'responsibility,' Lady Primarch?" Jared asked, regaining a fragment of his composure. He attempted to step back, but her hands rested on his hips with gentle pressure that somehow rendered him immobile.
"I mean, we kissed, didn't we? Doesn't that make us husband and wife?" Kassandra asked shyly, turning her face away from Jared's shocked gaze.
"Nooooo! Jared, you can't do this to me!" Sanguinia cried, struggling against Petra's restraint. "Refuse her! Say no! You have me, remember?!"
"I mean... yes, we just kissed, not with my consent, but... that doesn't mean we're husband and wife, Lady—"
"Kassandra," she corrected.
"Yes, Lady Kassandra. Kissing doesn't automatically make us husband and wife. Becoming that is... complicated."
"But isn't that normal?" Kassandra asked, confusion evident in her expression. "I mean, that's what Sevatar told me when I asked him."
"What exactly did he tell you, Lady Kassandra?" Jared asked cautiously. If their primarch was unstable, what could he expect from her Space Marine?
"W-well, when I asked him how to capture a man's heart, he told me to watch from afar, then swoop in and bring him back to my safe house," Kassandra explained, her cheeks flushing. "Then kiss him, and we'd be together forever. Isn't that right?"
"That's outright kidnapping!" Sanguinia tried to break free from her restraints. "You kissed him without consent! Don't you understand that's a crime?!"
Shock registered on Kassandra's face before her gaze dropped to Jared. "Y-you didn't want to...?" Her expression crumpled, tears welling in her eyes. "I should punish myself for acting without your consent..."
"No! I mean—I didn't hate it, so... it's fine," Jared mumbled, turning his head away shyly. He didn't hate the kiss; it had felt... good? It was just her sudden approach that had startled him.
"Then!" Kassandra's face brightened instantly.
"N-no, Lady Kassandra," Jared hastily continued. "Becoming husband and wife isn't just about a kiss. People need to spend time together, live together, face challenges, and work through difficulties or else that might... trouble either party." He explained as best he could, knowing little about romantic relationships. Mary, his "disappeared" squad mate, had been the closest thing to love he'd ever known.
"Oh, so from now on, I need to live with you?" Kassandra asked, her eyes shining with newfound hope—a glimpse of the life she'd always wanted, free from suffering.
Jared swallowed hard as he sensed murderous intent radiating from behind him, almost suffocating in its intensity. Two pairs of eyes bored into his back like lascannons targeting an ant. He couldn't quite hear what they were saying, but he caught fragments. He was dead if he said yes, and equally dead if he said no.
The Emperor suddenly stepped forward. "I will allow it," he declared, glancing toward the fuming Sanguinia and Petra, who immediately composed themselves. The pressure lifted from Jared's back—for now.