Their gazes meet and he feels the touch of a foreign mind; then suddenly something within him snaps, and his world melts into golden radiance.
…
…
…
The surge of gold swirls around him, growing brighter by the instant until it is a blinding river of molten light. He raises a hand to shield his eyes from the brilliance, then freezes as he realizes how impossible that action should be in his current state. But then, between the golden light and the tension in the air that heralds warp sorcery, the laws of reality don't seem to be functioning; who is he to say what is or is not possible at the moment?
He has no time to ponder his sudden freedom as a familiar voice speaks behind him.
"My Son."
He whirls in surprise to face the man who created him, before sinking to one knee as is expected of him. "Father? How-? What's going on?"
"You have claimed your birthright," his father muses, ignoring his question. "I did not think you had the potential, Lord of Ultramar. Your connection to the Immaterium was never as strong as your brothers', but now..." he mutters, half under his breath. "It is as if your soul was…" the Master of Mankind does not finish his thought, stoic countenance abruptly shifting into a mask of seething rage, as some realization dawns. "An anathame? That whore!"
He suddenly knows where Angron gets it from.
He shivers, taking a step back, as the temperature abruptly drops; ice crystals patterning the floor beneath his feet and frosting in his hair.
"Father? What are you..." He has been engineered to be unable to feel fear, but even so, every instinct he has is warning him of danger.
The Emperor of Mankind doesn't answer, merely places a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. For an instant nothing happens, then his father's eyes ignite with psychic fire and the pain begins.
He is no stranger to hurt, but this, this is something else. Agony rips through him as if his very soul was being torn apart, except it isn't, the opposite in fact. This is fusion, he knows by instinct, a joining of halves left too long apart. A binding, and what is more, a warding against corruption.
Then, just when he knows he can take no more, it is finished. Something clicks into place. Like the catch of a combination lock pressed into final alignment, something unlocks and the pain abruptly stops. He can feel his father's fury swirling around him, cold and deadly.
"What was that?" he gasps, when he has the breath.
"Your soul is ripped." The Emperor's tone is icy, angry at something he dares not imagine. "The Harlot's puppet cut more than your throat, if I hadn't repaired most of the damage you would have lost yourself."
"Most of?"
"It was all I could do to salvage what I could. The rest shall heal, but it will take time."
'Time we don't have,' he thinks bitterly, 'Don't you know what they've done? What they built you up to be?"
"I do." The Emperor stares at him, all traces of anger, erased by a binding sense of purpose. "There is no doubting that, my son. Our Imperium has strayed from the path I set for mankind, superstition and ignorance have overtaken it. Humanity has need of guidance. I shall aid where I am able, but the Astronomican flickers and the Dark is closing in; soon all my attention will be focused on keeping the beacon lit. It will fall to you to bring Mankind back from the brink. Listen, my son, for there is much I must tell you, and I have little time left. The Golden Throne fails and it will not be long before all my efforts must be dedicated to preserving it. I can't promise I will be able to contact you again, so listen well."
The Master of Mankind's eyes unfocus as if looking at something only he can see. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, half to himself, as if forgetting that he is not alone.
"Remember the Rock, and the men within it. The Unforgiven hide many secrets, but there is one that even they do not know, hidden at their very core. Look to them when the galaxy is riven and the traitor escapes.
Remember the Rout and the Fell Handed, for they have not escaped the wrath of the Crimson King and their lord is lost on a mission of his own. Look to them when the Watchers turn on the innocent, and blood is spilled on Armageddon.
Remember the sons of the Great Angel, for although the Lord of the Blood is young, he shall endure alongside you. Wait for the Lord of Death for he is far more than he appears. Look to both when the Devourer comes to the sands of the blood moon, and you will find one long thought dead.
Remember the Damned, for they are legion. Look to them when hope has failed and the fight is all but lost. Their lord shall answer the call.
Remember the Drake for he is perpetual. Look to him when the father of the forge completes his quest.
Remember the Raven, for he has grown beyond all telling. Remember the Rider, for he is lost in the dark city. Remember the Builder for he is not lost, merely trapped. Look for them when the time is right.
Remember the Ten Thousand, for they have grown no less deadly in their despair, and despite what may be told, the King in Yellow yet lives. Look to him and he will aid you should you seek him.
Beware the Cursed Pantheon and their fallen princes, for they shall seek to corrupt you.
Beware the Despoiler and his 13th, for if the War World falls, fate shall be broken and the galaxy will be cleft in twain.
Beware the Watchers, the Lords, and the Faithful, for their dogmas will blind them to my will. Beware those who work in the dark to preserve their power.
Beware the Hydra, but trust its head, for he has kept his loyalty hidden behind a cypher.
Look to the Saint, for she has purpose despite her zeal. Look to the Magos, for he may prove your salvation. They may prove vital in the end.
Look to the First Born; make peace with the Herald of Death and the Farseer, for you shall have a common enemy. Look to the Mother, for she may be a great ally should she be saved. Look to the Jester, but do not trust him, his schemes are beyond you.
Watch for the Newcomers, for they will spread poison with honeyed words.
Watch for the Devourer and its vanguard, for if you allow it, it shall consume the Galaxy.
Watch for the Ancient Ones, for they shall awaken again. Look to the unspeaking monarch, for an alliance may yet be made. Find the Museum and its keeper for he imprisons many thought lost.
And lastly, remember your own, for the greatest of your sons have yet to be born. Watch for the Master who hides his name, for the Captain overlooked and the Captain betrayed, for the Maverick, the Knight Champion, and the Pysker Lord, for they shall be your finest warriors. Look to them at the end of your captivity."
"I will remember, My Lord," he says, mind reeling to take in and analyze all the disparate bits of information. His brother's fates, and the fates of their sons, possible allies and enemies, things that are and things that were. "I swear it."
A pause. He can sense a decision being made as his father weighs the vow.
"I trust you shall," He wonders at the cold finality of those words, but the Emperor isn't finished.
"Roboute Guilliman, from now until your final breath, you are my Warmaster, the Lord Commander of my Imperium." The Master of Mankind declares, drawing the flaming sword that ended the life of the previous Warmaster. "Take up the blade, as a sign and as a promise. You answer to none save me. You serve none but me, let nothing stand in your way. Any who stand against you stand against me."
His eyes go wide at the titles and the implications of them; at the trust his father is vesting in him, especially after Horus's betrayal. "I won't," he whispers, wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the proffered sword and wishing for stronger words to express his loyalties. "I won't fail you, Father."
"No, you will not. Farewell my son, I do not know if we shall meet again upon this plane, but do not despair, trust yourself, and-," a flash of what might be called humor in a lesser man crosses his sire's face. "Trust your sons. I believe they would like a word."
He doesn't have time to ponder that last, before the golden light creeps over him, and his Emperor disappears into it.
Then he is back in the sun-filled, marble columned hall that houses his stasis chamber. It feels all the more a prison after his brief taste of freedom.
The Librarian still stands before him, warp light flickering in his eyes. The Captain still kneels a few feet behind him, surrounded by the bodies of the power-armored women killed in the firefight. Nothing has changed and for a moment he wonders if it was all a dream. Then he notices the Sword of the Emperor, sheathed and balanced against his knee, and knows it wasn't.
"My son," he thinks, and pretends not to notice the awe and excitement that the Librarian is quick to stifle, even as the connection is made, "You called for me, I am here."
It is unclear as to when, or indeed how, the sword, later positively identified as the Blade of the Emperor appeared in the Primarch's stasis chamber; it obviously wasn't entombed with him from the beginning, and the stasis field was not disabled at a later date to allow for the sword to be interned with him. According to eyewitness testimony, the sword simply appeared, leaning against the Primarch's right knee. On the surface would seem highly unbelievable, but given what transpired in that hall mere moments later, and what has happened on Maccrage since then, this Investigator is willing to suspend their disbelief.
Author's Note:
Heh, so this is later than I wanted it to be, blame midterms and the Emperor being impossible to write. I'm still not quite happy with his characterization and this chapter as a whole, but I can't spend any more time messing with it. Please ignore any OOCness and all the rushed stuff. At least Gman's now free to talk to his kids, and he's got a prophecy/warning to puzzle over, and the whole "Soul got torn by chaos-y knife" thing isn't gonna be a problem for much longer.
To those of you wondering about the Age of Apostasy: Both in canon and here, it didn't impact Ultramar nearly as much as the rest of the Imperium, and the Imperial Cult's influence and power in Ultramar came very gradually and never attained the same level of dominance that it did in the wider Imperium. So um yeah, Guilliman didn't wake up during the Age of Apostasy Proper because it didn't really happen on Ultramar.
As usual, Huge Thanks to everyone who's commented/given kudos. You're all amazing and I love to see what you think about this thing I have made. Please try to keep in mind that I'm still very much a novice when it comes to writing, so any constructive criticism/critique/lore correction is welcome (and let's be honest, desperately needed). Please don't be shy. I need all the help I can get!
Last but certainly not least, a massive thanks to my wonderful beta Spooky-Cadet!