Another headcanon because I was listening to Rylanor's Last Stand by StringStorm and decided to scroll through the comments. One of them was "what if Rylanor returns with the Legion of the Damned with Ferrus and curbstomps Fulgrim" so of COURSE I had to write it.

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Fulgrim slashed his sword through a platoon of Guardsmen, relishing their cries of pain. Across the battlefield, he heard Angron's roars, smelled Mortarion's stench, and felt Magnus' magic ripple through the air. Perturabo's ad hoc fortifications churned out missiles and bolter shells while Lorgar's words of support strengthened the Chaos forces.

And on the other side were his other brothers.

Roboute was in the thick of the fighting, wielding their father's sword, the arcane flames incinerating daemon and heretic alike. Rogal's golden armor reflected the blue energy of his guardian spear. Vulkan's hammer sent promethean flames blazing across the ground while Corax swooped from the skies. Lion El'Jonson and Leman stood back to back, sword and axe dancing in deadly concert.

Yet for all the loyalist's efforts, they were slowly being driven back to the walls of the Imperial Palace. Fulgrim heard the call for retreat and looked up at the walls, bristling with missile batteries, Mega-bolters, Volcano Cannons, and other powerful weapons. Perturabo's voice cut through the noise of the melee.

"Charge them. Destroy them."

"What about the walls?" Mortarion asked.

"Gone," a new voice said, one that Fulgrim recognized as Alpharius'. Suddenly, the walls blistered with explosions. Fire spread across the battlements, giving the loyalists pause. The battlefield was silent for a moment before Angron roared out, revving his chainaxe, "Blood for the blood god!" Khornate followers responded in kind, "Skulls for the skull throne!" Fulgrim shook his head. Khornates. Fulgrim locked eyes with Rogal.

"For the Emperor," he said mocklingly before throwing his head back, cackling, and letting his full daemon form take over.

The other Chaos legions responded in kind with their various battle cries, charging to battle as the loyalists prepared themselves for a final stand.

Fulgrim had nearly reached the front lines when orange warp-fire cut through the veil of reality and unreality.

The spectral forms of thousands of Space Marines stepped through the wall of fire. Fulgrim hissed his displeasure. He had heard of these Marines before. The Legion of the Damned. The Emperor's daemons. The souls of every Space Marine that had perished in battle against the Imperium's foes. Fulgrim saw Astartes of every kind. Neophytes with ghostly flickers of power armor, Dreadnoughts who's viewport spewed fire, Terminators with Power Fists that were wreathed in fire.

Staring at him were two flaming figures that stood out from the rest.

One was at least twice as tall as the normal Marines around him, a servo harness on his back. His head was nothing more than a flaming skull and he wielded a massive warhammer, one the size of Vulkan's. A warhammer that Fulgrim himself had forged. Fulgrim shot a glance at the figure's forearms to confirm his suspicions.

The arms were shimmering silver, bare of flames. Necrodermis.

It was Ferrus Manus, raised from the dead by the Emperor.

The other figure was equally, if not taller than Ferrus. It was an ancient Contemptor Dreadnought, dressed in the old livery of Fulgrim's legion. An assault cannon hung from it's right side while a Dreadnought sized power-fist burned with fire. Fulgrim hissed again. Rylanor.

Fulgrim had never known fear. At least, that's what he told everyone, even himself. But the primarch of the Emperor's Children was prideful. He had felt fear only twice before. Both times in the Istvaan system. Once on Istvaan V and the other on Istvaan III. Two planets, ten thousand years apart.

The first time was the Dropsite Massacre. He had dueled Ferrus. Fulgrim has been scared for his life then. But the daemon in the Laer Blade had overcome him and driven him to drive the sword through his brother's neck. The other was in that ancient hangar. With Rylanor. Fulgrim's pride had been damaged and that had terrified him. That his pride, despite him believing that it was unbreakable, had been broken.

And now, here was a third time Fulgrim felt fear.

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And then the Orks showed up and everyone died. Kidding. But in all honesty, I didn't feel like writing out a duel between the three and also it wasn't supposed to be the focus. Just some good ol' "aw fuck yeah".

Peace, Love, and Donuts: 8Ball3