Hi everyone, I apologise for the delay in posting this chapter. I had a basketball tournament over the weekend and my body felt like a whole WAAGH! of Orks just ran over it...doesn't really set the mood for writing. Plus, I had to rewrite a few chapters I was going to post and re-planned the plot of this fic..but hopefully..now I'll have things back on track. =)
Aktis - Thank you for your review...I originally made the Eldar more diabolical in the previous chapter but as much as I hate them, I decided I wasn't being fair so I toned it down a bit, though I could've used Dark Eldar instead...oh well...and I apologise for the little errors that I missed...one of the drawbacks of writing longer chapters I'd say...and your point on repetitive words are spot on...my vocabulary tends to be a little limited...one time while I was writing my thesis, my supervisor had a look and pointed out that I repeated one word NINE times in a single paragraph...we had a good long laugh over that...but I'll keep an eye out for it in future.
CrimsonFlare121 - I'm honoured that you think so highly of this fic, though perhaps you exaggerate my level of eloquence and articulation. I have read many more fanfics by writers so skilled that I feel like a child learning the English language all over again, but thank you again for those words of praise. I hope I continue to do justice to your expectations.
SciFiFan96 - Hey there, thanks! Your idea for Thor's wargear is pretty good! I can't just replace the one I've already establish, but I think I can find a way to put it in. Thanks again!
Thanks to everyone who's been following this fic! Also thanks to everyone who reviewed!
Brotherly Relations
The festivities were in full swing by the time Asghar and Gwaine arrived at Leman Russ's command post. Storm Eagles were seated with the Space Wolves, laughing raucously, sharing drinks, proudly comparing deeds, trading insults with good humour and renewing their oaths of brotherhood. On an elevated platform overlooking the event sat Thorondor and Leman Russ. The Wolf King was laughing loudly while the Storm Lord shook his head with amusement and the two clinked their lanxes together before drinking deeply from them.
Asghar grunted. "Looks like we're not going to be able to pull our lord away."
Gwaine nodded in agreement. Only a fool would try to come between Leman Russ and Thorondor during their celebratory drinks. "So what do we tell Lord Horus then?"
Asghar snorted. "Nothing. Let the Primarchs handle their affairs. We answer only to Lord Thorondor and the Emperor himself."
"What do you suggest we do now?"
Asghar smiled. "We join the festivities of course."
Already an Astartes from the Space Wolves was approaching them. The warrior was massive, towering over even Asghar. He was clad in power armour the hard tempest grey of the Space Wolves, but it was decorated with various totems and fetishes that marked his high position within the Rout.
"Asghar!" boomed the warrior, pulling the First Captain of the Storm Eagles into an embrace that banged their power armours together.
"Gunn," returned Asghar, before stepping aside to allow Gwaine to step forward.
"Lord Gunn," greeted Gwaine, inclining his head. Unlike Asghar, Gwaine had not known nor fought alongside the Jarl of Onn long enough to be afforded with the same familiarity that Gunnar Gunnhilt showed the First Captain of the Second Legion.
Gunnar looked down at Gwaine with hard eyes for a moment before nodding his head. "Brother."
The Jarl of Onn swept his arm towards where their Primarchs were drinking. "Where were you today? While the Wolf King was cutting threads alongside the warriors of Onn, Twa, Tra and Fyf, your Primarch was bringing down the wrath of the Allfather down on the Eldar that were going to flank us. From what I heard, neither of you were there."
Gwaine bristled but Asghar simply smiled.
"We were where our lord commanded us to be; leading our main army in the destruction of the last Eldar stronghold on this world," answered Asghar. Gunnar grinned and clapped Asghar on the shoulder.
"Duty and glory, brother," said Gunnar. "Now, let's have some mjod, shall we?"
Asghar nodded and followed the Jarl, though Gwaine heard him grumbling about the Fenrisian drink. The commander of the Storm Riders didn't bother to follow; he wasn't entirely comfortable around Gunnar and he knew the Space Wolf wouldn't care if he was present or not. Gunnar seemed to disdain his status as half-Astartes.
Instead, Gwaine watched as Thorondor and Leman Russ continued to drink together. The Primarch of the Vlka Fenryka was describing something to Thorondor and from the way he was gesturing, likely something he had killed. The Storm Lord listened intently, smiling broadly as he nodded in appreciation of whatever Russ was describing.
Not for the first time, Gwaine felt a surge of jealousy in his heart.
"We are celebrating a victory, but you do not look very pleased, brother."
Gwaine turned and came face to face with another Space Wolf. The warrior was clearly older than Gwaine; his face was lined and his hair was greying. Yet he still stood tall, easily half a head taller than the Lightning Rider. His power armour was carved with runes and bore all manner of beads, crow feathers and teeth from various beasts. In his hands he carried two lanxes of mjod.
He offered one to Gwaine, looking down at him curiously.
Gwaine took it and raised it towards the other warrior. "To the Wolf King."
The warrior returned the gesture. "To the Storm Lord."
They both gulped down the drink and Gwaine grimaced a little at the taste, and the Space Wolf grinned when he saw it.
"It keeps the cold out," said the older warrior.
"I don't believe I know your name, brother," said Gwaine.
The warrior inclined his head. "Ulvurul Heoroth, rune priest of Tra."
A rune priest, a psychic warrior like those of the Fifteenth Legion, noted Gwaine.
"I am –"
"I know who you are, Lightning Rider," interrupted Heoroth. Had it been anyone else, Gwaine would have taken offense, but since all Space Wolves tended to lack tact and manners, he let it slide. "Your story has been told by our fires often enough."
Gwaine raised an eyebrow. "Your skjalds tell stories of me?"
Heoroth nodded. "The half-Astartes who is brother to the Storm Lord. The one who fought countless battles at his side, the one whose glories in the Second Legion chases only Asghar."
Gwaine was uncertain if he was being praised or patronised. Since Thorondor had taken command of the Second Legion, Gwaine had worked harder than any other Astartes in the Storm Eagles to prove that he was not there only because of his relationship to his Primarch. He fought hard to prove that he deserved to stand among the Astartes. His victories had grown to the point that he had even surpassed the other veteran captains who had been on the Great Crusade since before the Legion had found its Primarch.
Save for Asghar.
Asghar alone stood above Gwaine in his glories and victories. It had become something of a rivalry between them, though both warriors showed nothing but respect and admiration for each other. Deep in Gwaine's heart though, even though he was of equal rank to the former Legion Master, he always felt as though he always came up short, and the Legionaries, even the ones from Tempestas did not afford him the same level of respect they gave to Asghar. Gwaine used it as motivation to do better, but in his darker moments, he found himself resenting the First Captain.
In the past, he would have spoken of such matters with Thorondor, but his Primarch had a Legion to run and worlds to conquer; Gwaine did not want to diminish himself in Thorondor's eyes by whining about personal matters like a petulant child.
"My words were meant to be praise."
Gwaine stared at the rune priest for a moment before his eyes narrowed. "You were reading my mind?"
"It was not intentional," answered Heoroth. "Your thoughts are loud and your resentment colours them."
The rune priest sat down at an empty table and invited Gwaine to do the same. After hesitating for a moment, Gwaine did.
"You think you are disrespected?" asked Heoroth bluntly.
"It's not that," answered Gwaine. "It's just..."
He trailed off, hesitating to confide in a warrior from a different Legion. The possibility of the rune priest reporting to Leman Russ also crossed his mind.
The rune priest sensed it. "Very well then, you don't have to tell me. But think of this, many times has your Primarch left crucial battles in your hands; has had you take on the most important objectives in battle. Doesn't this show great trust and respect for you?"
"I know that," answered Gwaine. He hesitated again before continuing. "It's the rest of my Legion. I'm not sure that they do."
Heoroth snorted. "Your Primarch does, and that should be good enough for them. It should be good enough for you. I think you let your status as half-Astartes bother you too much, brother."
"You don't understand," said Gwaine. "You don't receive the looks I get; the patronising, the pitying, even amusement like I'm some sort of oddity. My achievements become diminished because I am half-Astartes. No matter what I do, I can never escape it."
"You can't," agreed Heoroth. "No matter what you do, you will never be a true Astartes. But so what? I think you imagined half the looks you say you get, and I'd say your achievements are all the more worthy because you are half-Astartes. But in the end, what is it do you truly want?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Do you fight the Crusade for your own glory? Or do you fight for the Allfather's dream?"
"I...of course I fight for the Emperor's goals," answered Gwaine, but he hesitated before continuing. "I also fight to prove I am worthy of serving the Storm Lord, the Emperor...and the Imperium."
Heoroth smiled. "Exactly. In the end, we all serve, don't we? From the lowliest servitors, to the astropaths, the Mechanicum, the Army and us Astartes, we all serve. That's all that should truly matter to us."
Gwaine turned away from the rune priest to watch Thorondor and Leman Russ. He knew that Heoroth was right; that at the end of the day, what mattered more than glory, victories, honour and respect was that they were fighting for a better future for Mankind. It should have been enough.
But for Gwaine, it wasn't.
As he watched Thorondor and Leman Russ drinking together, he could see the affection and fondness in his Primarch's eyes. Again, Gwaine felt a surge of jealousy; Thorondor had never looked at anyone else but him like that before. That's what bothered Gwaine more than anything else. Once, he was the only one considered to be Thorondor's true brother. But now he had eclipsed by the other Primarchs; Thorondor's true brothers.
Sighing, Gwaine turned to pour himself and Heoroth more mjod, ignoring the penetrating stare the rune priest was giving him.
As he gulped down the offensive drink, Gwaine bitterly wondered how in the name of Terra could he ever compete with a Primarch.
II II II
"I swear the two of you keep doing this just to annoy me."
Leman Russ grunted and looked insolently bored while Thorondor simply smiled in what was supposed to be a placating gesture, but for Horus, all it did was annoy him further.
The three Primarchs were in Horus's tent. The war had essentially ended nearly two days ago, but only now did his two brothers deign to meet Horus after the end of the battle. The Lord of the Luna Wolves was seated on a couch while his two brothers were seated in chairs opposite him.
"You do this every time we fight a campaign together," said Horus. "You deviate from the battle-plan without reporting in..."
"There was an Ork army approaching our flank," grumbled Russ. "I took care of it."
"If you had simply followed the battle-plan and broke through Eldar defences from your position, we could have consolidated and deal with the Orks together," retorted Horus.
Russ snorted. "It was overkill, Horus. You would have broken through with or without me. I simply moved to take care of a more pressing threat."
"The whole purpose was to spread their forces thin," snapped Horus. "They were able to focus their defences into one location..."
"You still took the Eldar fortress with minimal casualties, didn't you?" retorted Russ.
"That's not the point," said Horus in exasperation. "The point is you deviated from the battle-plan without reporting..."
Russ grinned insolently, deliberately trying to infuriate the Primarch of the Luna Wolves. "We had an Ork army on our arses. Reporting in was the last thing on our minds."
Horus sighed and ran a hand across his hairless scalp. It was pointless, he knew. Russ only listened to the Emperor, and even then only when it suited him. Horus turned to face Thorondor. When he had first met the Primarch of the Second Legion, he had been delighted to meet a Primarch that was more...civilised than their more feral brother. But it turned out that while Thorondor did follow battle-plans, he often took independent action based on his instincts. While Horus could appreciate that Thorondor's actions often proved to be crucial turning points that turned the tide of battle in their favour, he was annoyed that like Russ, Thorondor would often disappear without reporting first.
"I expect this kind of behaviour from him," said Horus, jerking his head at Russ. "But you too? The two of you are as bad as each other."
Thorondor's smile widened. "Aren't you being a little harsh, Horus? Unlike Russ, I didn't divert my entire army; I only took elements from different companies and my elite. The rest were more than able to carry out your battle-plan."
"And what if something unexpected happened? How would your Legion have reacted if you were missing?"
"I left Asghar and Gwaine in charge," answered Thorondor. "I have absolute faith in both of them to do what is right in such situations, as I do with all my captains."
Thorondor paused, before his smile took on a more wicked quality. "As should you, Horus; especially if you consider that Asghar alone has been conducting campaigns in our father's name for far longer than I have...and for a longer time than even you, for that matter. Surely you do not doubt him?"
"Of course not, it's just that..." Horus gave up. It was hard to stay mad at Thorondor, and with Russ it just wasn't worth bothering with. "You're right, I suppose. Aside from this, this was a good victory my brothers."
A servitor waddled forward with a tray of wine. Horus took it and poured it out for all three of them. They each took a glass and raised it in salute before drinking.
"Answer me this, though," asked Horus after a moment. "Why did it take you nearly two days to report in after the battle ended?"
Russ laughed loudly while Thorondor had the decency to look sheepish.
"I swear Horus, I wanted to come back right away, but Russ wouldn't let me go..."
Horus felt the beginnings of a headache that only his two brothers were capable of causing. "Are you saying the reason you delayed your report was because you two were holding your own celebrations?"
The slightly embarrassed smile on Thorondor's face and the fang-exposing grin on Russ's confirmed it. Horus leaned back and pressed his fingers to his temple.
"You didn't think to send a vox-message or someone to report on your behalf?"
"Vox-message is so impersonal," answered Thorondor with a shrug. "And we didn't want to insult you by sending a messenger."
No, you thought annoying me further was the much better option thought Horus irritably.
"You two are idiots," was what he said aloud.
Thorondor and Russ both laughed at that, and the sound of it brought a smile to Horus's face.
II II II
Much later, after Russ had left to prepare for the Sixth Legion's departure, Horus and Thorondor stayed to discuss matters further.
"What is your next move after this?" asked Horus.
"The remnants of the Eldar on this planet have evacuated to a craftworld," replied Thorondor. "I intend to go after them."
The cold smile on Thorondor's face almost had Horus feeling sorry for the xenos. His brother was renowned as a temperate and dutiful warrior and general; his campaigns were usually marked with the application of only the necessary amount of force required to win the battles, even against xenos. The Eldar alone were the only race that Thorondor took great pains to be especially brutal to.
"They enslaved humans and toyed with their lives," said Horus, raising a cup of wine to his lips. "It is no more than they deserve."
Thorondor nodded and took a sip from his own cup. He looked upon Horus and his smile grew warmer and his face softened slightly.
"I apologise for causing you difficulties, Horus," said Thorondor. "I don't intend to change my way of waging war, but I have never intended to makes things difficult for you."
Horus smiled back. This was why he liked Thorondor considerably more than Russ. Like Russ, Thorondor held fast to his own ways, but unlike Russ, the Storm Lord wasn't too proud to apologise and make amends.
"You get results and you win wars," answered Horus. "That's all that matters."
"Is that license for me to 'annoy' you further?" asked Thorondor teasingly.
Horus laughed. "Merciful Terra! Is that even possible? If you take more infuriatingly reckless actions, I might need a medicae on hand!"
"Well, my 'infuriatingly reckless actions' did save some your men," replied Thorondor with a chuckle.
"Ah, that's right, I got the report..." Horus trailed off, his previously good humour replaced by sorrow. "Losing Captain Pullo was a blow..."
"My condolences, Horus," said Thorondor sincerely. "Maximus was a fine captain."
Horus nodded. "That he was. Replacing him will be difficult."
He looked at Thorondor intently. "You were fighting alongside the survivors who went with him, what did you think of them?"
"They were all a credit to the Luna Wolves," answered Thorondor. "But Sergeant Loken stands out the most for me. His dedication to duty, ability to take independent action and his ability to lead are exemplary."
Horus smiled. "Sergeant Loken you say? Yes, Maximus spoke to me of him many times in the past."
Thorondor inclined his head and the two Primarchs spent several minutes in silence, drinking wine. Finally Thorondor spoke again.
"It's good to see you again," he said. "It's been...what? Two? Three years since we last met? If there's anything I regret about the Crusade, it's how little we see of each other because of our duties."
Horus nodded in agreement. "True. But the Crusade will end one day. We will have plenty of time to spend together…though perhaps it might be bad for my health."
Both Horus and Thorondor laughed at that before a look of curiosity crept across the Storm Lord's face.
"So what have you been up to since we last met?" asked Thorondor.
Horus tilted his head. "Father and I found another."
Looking slightly surprised, Thorondor leaned forward. "So it's true? I've heard but I wasn't able to confirm..."
"It's true," answered Horus. "We found another lost brother."
"Were you mentoring him then?" asked Thorondor.
Horus nodded. Thorondor had never yet mentored a fellow Primarch because he had never been present when they were discovered; always in some far away sector prosecuting the Great Crusade. But he had made the effort to meet each and every one of them.
"What is he like?" asked Thorondor.
"He's from a Feral World, like Russ," answered Horus. "But you wouldn't know it from his behaviour. A complete contrast with the Wolf King."
"Truly?" remarked Thorondor. "I look forward to meeting him soon, then."
Horus marvelled at how Thorondor had built good or at the very least, cordial relationships with their brothers. Thorondor was on friendly terms with Fulgrim, Vulkan and Guilliman. Even their more taciturn brothers like Ferrus and Dorn expressed respect for the Storm Lord, though Dorn had also expressed far greater annoyance regarding Thorondor's habit of taking independent and unplanned actions during battle. Horus himself enjoyed a good and friendly relationship with Thorondor. Only Magnus seemed to have a cool relationship with the Primarch of the Storm Eagles.
But for some bizarre reason that Horus couldn't even begin to fathom, despite their difference in all but their warrior prowess and their fondness for driving him mad with their reckless acts on the battlefield, Thorondor had formed the closest bond with Leman Russ. While Thorondor was by no means a Primarch of refined tastes, he was still civilised. Russ, on the other hand, was the perfect barbarian, the product of the harsh Fenrisian winters. While a forceful personality and decisive, Thorondor had the humility to defer to his brothers when necessary; Russ was flat-out stubborn. Thorondor's friendly demeanour often put his brothers at ease; Russ often provoked fights with his belligerent attitude and constant posturing. The story of how the Storm Lord and the Wolf King had duelled each other beneath the Storm of Tempestas at their first meeting had fast become legend among the Legions.
But when Horus saw the two together, it would be near impossible to believe that the two Primarchs had started their relationship in such a hostile manner. It was said that while Russ obeyed only the Emperor, he would stop to listen and consider whatever Thorondor would have to say. That in itself was remarkable.
"Brother?"
Horus blinked and realised that Thorondor was watching him with a faintly puzzled expression. He realised that his brother had asked him a question.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" asked Horus, a little embarrassed that he had been caught daydreaming.
"I've never known you to be distracted before, Horus," said Thorondor. "Is there something on your mind?"
"I was just trying to figure out how you and Russ get along so well," answered Horus honestly with a smile.
"Just because we're a little different?" asked Thorondor, his smile widening slightly as Horus snorted at the statement. "What about Fulgrim and Ferrus? They get along very well."
"Ferrus might be a little cold and bad-tempered at times," said Horus. "But he's still...agreeable in his own way. Russ is...Russ."
Thorondor's smile faded slightly and there was a trace of reproach in his voice when he spoke. "I think you and our brothers judge Russ too harshly at times. None of you have really made an effort to reach out to him."
Horus sighed, knowing his brother had a point, but was unwilling to discuss the matter further. Thorondor was fond of Russ, and friendly relationship or not, he would argue with Horus all day in defence of their more savage brother.
"What were you saying while I was distracted?" asked Horus.
For a moment, Thorondor looked unwilling to drop the subject, but eventually relented, much to Horus's relief.
"I was asking what is the name of our newly discovered brother?"
Horus inclined his head.
"His people call him the Angel. His name is Sanguinius."