AN: Hi, Merry Christmas or holidays to you.

I decided to work faster for the holiday since I got a day off, after a few weeks of constant overtime. Thank you for giving me reviews, I appreciate it and it gives me something to help study. SO I now give this chap as a Christmas gift.

I will respond to the reviews on the bottom.

Please Review. It helps me learn.


"I apologize for my… behaviour. I was unaware and alarmed by circumstances," Hamael spoke to the pair of mortals before him. It was unlike him to do what had happened, breaking the virtue of an angel by approaching those that have helped him in such a hostile manner. He admonished himself for such behaviour, placing himself some distance away. "I hope that you would be understanding about my circumstances. To find that one was not where he had fallen is alarming."

His mind must surely have been muddled and hazed. Whether from near-death, the remnants of Xeno poisons in his system or some other malady. He did not know. Never had he felt such rage, such anger, against a mere child for stating what she only knew.

The revelations were too troubling. And thus he channelled his frustrations inside, pushing it deep within him to process later. To meditate and process when peace and answers were given.

"We accept your apologies. And It would be easy to assume that you are not from here, Ang- Hamael. We have never seen someone like yourself before." Colbert asked, warily and shifted his staff. His posture that of a calm, patient man.

But Hamael could tell that he was prepared to fight, despite his friendly appearance. His eyes honed on the minute adjustments of this professor: the look of a veteran like the untold millions he had seen before. His ears could pick up the quick beating of nervous hearts pounding in fear or adrenaline.

A facade of a lion hiding posing as a household cat.

It was not uncommon for veterans to teach the youths of the Scholas back in the Imperium, perhaps they were of the same mind here. A wise decision to have experienced individuals teaching the young. Nonetheless, he was glad that he was dealing with someone who had some steel then another menial or droning scribe.

Hamael nodded, relaxing his posture. Breathing slowly he spoke."If you have then it would surprise me, Professor. It is obvious to me that I was not where I was or it would be well-known to you the terror, which is the Tyranids. But this would broker another question. Where am I and how did I arrive here?"

Colbert thought for a second before making a decision. "You are in Tristain, or to be more specific, you are in Tristain's Academy of Magic: A crown-run magic school for the children of nobles. And you were summoned by Louise De La Valliere here, to be her familiar."

"Magic? I am in a schola for psykers and I was summoned here with warpcraft?" Hamael voice was colder now, lacking the friendliness it once had. He felt conflicted: An urge to rush forward, taking the man by surprise by punching his fist through the chest. Logic told him to attack, to strike when he was unaware and to take advantage. It would be a simple affair -the witch was in front of him, mere seconds away.

Yet, he stayed his hand. They had treated and sheltered him -albeit in a dungeon. And he could not betray such courtesy, yet.

But, something was off.

He's had ample experience with warp users: From heretical traitor psykers of Chaos; The deprivations of Eldar and their cousins, the Dark Eldar; The green might that was the Waaaggh of the Greenskin and many he did not wish to name.

All of them were aware of Astartes. All, but a few, wouldn't hesitate to slay a wounded marine. Those that would spare him would do so if it was part of their malevolent schemes or vile purposes - A fate that could be worse than death.

Hamael then recalled something. A message that was ingrained into the depths of his mind. The potent words of the master of mankind: To be subservient to a girl that would claim to be his master. If such was true then he would loathe to serve this… juvie, especially a psyker juvie. But he must. For he made an oath and he shall keep it, by Sangiunius name, and it was not the first time that he had to serve mortals.

However, he might as well test her. "And you mean that she, a small child, has summoned me? An Astartes of the Emperor to be a slave? Many have tried to enslave or lord over the Astartes, many more have failed. What's to say that you can or should?" He said slowly, pretending to be unamused and watching their expressions.

"Ye-"

"I am not a small child! And I am your master, familiar," Louise pouted, cutting Colbert off, and stomped her foot for emphasis, unaware that tensions had arisen or to the tone of Hamaels voice. "The contract was set and you are not a slave. It is simply one of a master-servant relationship."

"Then how are you aware that I am under such a contract? I have signed no such thing. Or perhaps is this a custom amongst the psykers of this world: to bind those too wounded or weak to resist? With papers and words or assumptions that It would be accepted out of gratitude? Presumptuous of you, to base a relationship on guesses. It is a thin line you tread. And with an Astartes, a Blood Angel, you tread along very thin line." Hamael warned.

"Because you have been branded!" Louise retorted in a haughty manner, but her expression was wavering between delight and unease, "and it is my right as a noble to claim a familiar."

"Then where is my brand?" Hamael asked, throwing Louise off. But he was confused as well. His armour had not been removed, the locks still clasped when he awoken and the logs showed no signs of entry… so where? "Clearly, if I am what you say a 'servant'. Then I should be branded, as you say, somewhere noticeable." He examined Colbert and the stunned, haughty noble child. This was not the first time he had to deal with the nobility - horrid cowards most of the time, many of whom were unworthy of their station.

Yet, there were some stellar, worthy examples. Some who he was proud to serve and fight alongside. But he could still recall the countless occasions where both, either the virtuous or the intolerable, would try to lord over him and his kind.

Tried.

This 'Louise' was the latter in his opinion. Though, she was still a child, unlearned, and thus a work in progress.

Louise stood in place, lost in thought. "I.I...I don't know?"

"Then I would not be a 'familiar' if I have not been branded? Am I correct to presume?"

"That would be so," Colbert interjected with a nod, still on edge.

"N-no, no. I did complete the ceremony, I kissed him and there was a light." Louise stammered, unable to explain. Her earlier emotions now melting like snow under the burning sun.

"But no brand?" Hamael questioned.

"Yes… no. It should be on you, somewhere, anywhere." Louise said desperately. Her unease spreading on her face, clear as daylight. Hamael restrained lashing out when she ran at him in a frenzy to search for this 'brand'. It was futile and she soon gave up. "Maybe... maybe it's under your armour. Yes, it should be." She suggested, reassuring herself.

"So you wish for an angel to undress in front of you? To prove your false claims?" Hamael suggested with hidden mirth. She was desperate. Why? Why did she require a familiar so badly?

"Yes, wait, no. Yes!" She alternated her answer.

"That is enough, Le Valliere." Colbert cut in, knocking the base of his staff against the stone floor.

Hamael had half-suspected that the man was trying to keep him placated. Not that this would cause him to be annoyed. In other circumstances, he would be but slammed on his desire to do so. At least for now.

"I did do it, Professor. You were there! You saw me! I am not a zero, I am not a failure. I have finally succeeded in something for I have summoned my familiar. I will not be expulsed! I shall not be sent home. As. A. Failure." Louise all but shouted with determination and fear, wisps of tears almost coming out.

Ah, that would explain it. A not uncommon case among hive-nobility, where the strong would lead entire dynasties and the failures were scorned or removed. Hamael continued to study the panicking youth and then he made a choice. A choice of one.

"Enough!" He shouted, his vox-enhanced voice boomed along the empty hallways, "I have heard enough. I see that you are truly unworthy of my service and if given the choice. I would slay you for trying to enslave an Astartes." Then Hamael moved. For all his size, he moved with stunning speed. In a whirl, he was standing right in front of wide-eyed Louise and a stunned Colbert.

Then to their further surprise, he went down on one knee, placing his face downwards and clenched one fist on his golden breast. Even kneeling, he stood above her, nearly reaching Colbert's chest, and then he spoke.

"However it is not my choice, for I have sworn an oath…" Hamael paused to give his word the needed effect, "Rejoice Louise de La Valliere for I, Brother Hamael of the Blood Angels, pledge to accept the role as your familiar. To teach and guide; to be your shield and protector until my time comes, my oath is relieved or you betray the Emperor's trust. Under the name of the Ninth legion, my father and the gaze of the Emperor, do you accept my pledge?"

The only response was a comical expression on Louise's face, her mouth gaping open and close. Mind trying to process what was said, confusion at some words and bafflement at others, then she stammered out.

"I...I do."

And Hamael stayed silent, his right hand twitched unknowingly.


Louise laid on her bed and stared at her ceiling. A thing she had done on many occasions -whenever she failed, whenever frustration reared its head or the lack of progress at her studies -on the magical front- or even the impending possibilities of a bleak future.

'A future that should and will no longer exist,' she thought gladly. Weary and fatigued. She turned her head from the white plaster sky, gazing around the decently furnished room, past the artisan dressers and wooden desks and then stopped at one thing at the end of the room.

The golden angel. He stood stock-still like an oversized suit of decorative armour, partially masked by the lamp-light. The blackened glass eyes of his mask were focused on her, she could feel it despite it not showing.

Her new familiar, Hamael, was a mystery to her and the cause of some new worries.

The man, or angel, never spoke once the pledge was accepted, regardless of her demands for answers.

He simply remained silent in the face of her orders and demands. An insolent gesture after such an 'oath'. She would've tried to discipline and chastise him if the professor had insisted that not happen.

Like a silent bodyguard or golem, he stayed behind her with every step and she would've forgotten his presence if it wasn't for the spatter of noise that came from his suit; almost like a faint crackle of lightning or distinct low 'whirr', as if it was alive. And once she reached her room, Hamael hardly fit through the door; ending up nearly tearing it open as he squeezed through to her dismay.

Louise could not help but be thankful that Hamael had awoken at night, the school being virtually deserted of people. Imagine what would happen if he had awoken during that day, in his present condition. It would've only added more fuel to her unwanted reputation, more rumours.

But then her mind wandered to what Hamael mentioned earlier. Of how he fought against something called a 'Tyranid', a strange name. And that he was a Blood angel. What that meant she didn't know but it sounded rather ominous.

"What are you, Familiar?" Louise asked, not expecting him to respond. She knew he was of flesh, the fact he bled proved that, but beyond that. She didn't know. And some of the words he used were strange. There were no Emperors unless he meant Germania but what would an angel be doing in that back-water place? A land of barbarians, drunkards... and Kirche. That slut.

"I am a Blood Angel and I am Astartes. Have I not introduced myself properly earlier? Did I not also say my name?" Hamael spoke then chided, breaking the silence.

"You're speaking? Th-then why were you silent earlier?" Louise sat up.

"I was… preoccupied with examining the extent of the damages to my armour. I apologize for I was distracted."

"Then make sure to pay attention next time, familiar," Lousie said in a haughty manner. Though she became a bit worried once he mentioned his armour. It was the master's role to take care of her familiar, that was true, but where was she gonna find someone to fix it up? Could the local blacksmith even do it? And most importantly, can she even afford to care for him with the allowance from home -he was awfully big, after all.

A thousand Ecu's should support an average student to live in relative luxury, and depending on familiar, for roughly a year. But, no one had summoned an angel before. Not to mention that she currently had a pile of hay for him to sleep on, if he even slept.

Hamael did not respond, preferring to stay silent than give a response.

"Now that you can talk," Louise took her familiars silence as agreement and shaking her thoughts away. "I've been thinking. What is a Blood angel? How is it different from normal angels? And what is an Asstarts?"

"Astartes, as-tar-tes," Hamael growled in annoyance.. " And I do not know what you mean by angels. All Astartes are angels. All angels are Astartes. And to answer your other questions. We, the Blood Angels, are a founding legion dedicated to the Emperor of Man. The blooded host, defenders of Humanity and among the most loyal amongst His servants." he explained with pride.

"But how do you not now know what an angel is if you are one? You know a divine being with two wings and flies with a divine sword? Serves Brimnir up in heaven? You have wings also for Brimnir's sake!" Louise asked. Skepticism and surprise in her growing voice. Every answer he gave only sprouted more questions and she felt overwhelmed.

"Then you must be referring to my father, the Primarch Sangunius. For he was the only ones to have true wings. However, I am merely one of his many sons in blood and genes. And he has never served anyone by the name of Brimnir, only one man and that man was the Emperor. That I can assure you."

Louise felt another worry being added to her list. Her familiar may be the angel of another god. She may be the master of a heretic angel, who was not an actual angel but was related to one.

'What joy' she thought sarcastically. The church would just love to have a talk with her if they found out. A very through talk.

"Then what are you then? What is Astarte?" enunciating the unfamiliar words slowly. And secretly preened a bit with pride when he gave a nod.

"I was once a mortal, now reborn into an angel. An angel of death," Hamael explained. "We who were once mortal were given the chance to become the Emperor's greatest warriors and we accepted. With the genes of our fathers, we are formed. In the fire of battle, we are forged. In the anvil of war, we are tempered. In the blood of his foes, we are quenched. We are Astarte, the angels of death. And we shall know no fear," he finished and Louise could just feel the pride laced in it.

With a slow blink and a long exhalation, Louise closed her mind and focused on happier thoughts. She summoned an angel of death. An angel of death in a school academy. If one's familiar was supposed to key them into what their element was… what element was an angel of death? Necromancy? That was something she clearly wanted to avoid.

Too many questions clogged her mind. Her emotional state going up and down faster than a spastic mage learning how to fly. She decided that she just wanted to lie down… and sleep.

But first.

"Familiar, I have some laundry I need to be cleaned. Inside the basket by the table; I expect them to be clean by the time I wake up." She ordered, closing her eyes for the beautiful embrace of sleep.

"You expect me to clean clothes? I am not a thrall or a serf, I have no experience in cleaning soiled garments and wear. I am no cleaner, I am an angel of d-" Hamael argued, confused at the order and surprised.

Louise cut him off. "Then go be an angel of cleaning. Take this as an order, Familiar. You can rest when the job is finished and there should still be some servants in the academy at this hour who can assist you," she could imagine the outraged look on the man or angels face, if he had a face. Did he even have one?

"... Very well, mistress."

Louise could hear the sound of creaking wood then the whispering cry of the door being nearly ripped off; she made a reminder to have a much larger door installed. Then a quiet click and finally, silence. A quick look afterwards revealed an empty room, devoid of Hamaels presence.

And then Louise closed her eyes once more, letting her mattress pull her down into its comfy embrace.

And dreamt.


Right away, Hamael could tell that he was gonna dislike his new master.

He skulked down an empty, nearly dark hallway bearing a basket of clothes. His suits auspex searching for life-signs, the image of blinking green dots that indicated living souls proving to be sparse at this hour, and onboard cogitators formed a map, in both mind and data. Panes of clear glass illuminated sections and lavishly made paintings at set intervals with dim light. Hamael glimpsed a peek out one as he passed.

It only compounded the fact that he was not where he was before. The view of two moons, partially blocked by clouds but still visible in the high night skies. He clearly recalled that his previous world had four, well three now. One was destroyed when he got there.

His mind then dwelt to his damage logs. It was not as bad as he feared, besides the obvious gap in his chest, most of the rest could be easily repaired on-field with the proper tools. But the only glaring issue was fuel for his near-empty jump pack -the cogitator calculating that the remnants were roughly enough for few minutes of flight-, supplies and his missing war-gear.

His precious weapons, relics in their own regards and much older than he was. Bequeathed to him upon his entry into the angelic guard. It was an immense honour.

Where they were now, he cannot recall. Only fragments of memory where the encramine axe was slammed into the skull of the beast with rage and fury. His gun knocked away by a glancing blow, sending it skidding into the dust cloud that enveloped both of them.

Thoughts and memories surfaced of that battle. Of brothers lost during the disastrous affair, their gene-seed and holy war-gear forever lost, a deep, painful wound for their chapter. Their charges, those they swore to protect, being devoured despite promises of salvation and safety. Though he wasn't the one to make them, his captain, Brother Cordelion, did so, but it was still the chapters charge and promise, regardless.

A promise that was not kept. But it was avenged with the tyrant's death with his own hands… then his.

"Emperor, please guide me for my mind is still clouded. Tell me what is it that you require of me, here? What is my goal besides that juve?" Hamael thought to himself. Shaking his head and dispelling those thoughts until all that was left was regrets about his earlier oath, then that too was shoved to the back of his mind. He had a goal now.

To find out more of this place, this world and their society. And to get his task done.

Though it was a task best suited for a serf, he couldn't help but grind his teeth in annoyance at the fact that a child would dare order him to do… laundry. A marine honed and birthed in war to do housework. What did she expect him to do? Plant a melta bomb in her drawers?

Imagine, a space marine doing a child's laundry?

Preposterous, an unthinkable waste. It was unfathomable… it was also entirely something that a noble might do.

But still, it was an order and he must comply despite its unusualness and eccentricities.

Hamiel continued his silent walk amidst the peaceful halls of gold, marble and carved stone, ignoring any of the still dots- logic dictating that these were most likely his master's fellow students. His travels found him moving from the more furnished areas and heading down a series of smaller halls. These were more simple compared to those he had passed; the tiles were replaced with flat stone, the furnishments were gone or wooden crates took their place; dead lamps gave way to lit torches.

There was someone nearby he could feel it.

His auspex pinged as if to respond to his intuition, a sole dot was heading towards his direction at the intersection ahead. His ears picked up the faint clicking of shoes, slow and easy-going, and a melodic humming. The owner was in no hurry and would soon turn towards him, seeing him in full view.

He had no means to tell whether this person was a servant or not, besides approaching them. And had no compunctions to avoid contact since doing so would void the whole affair in the first place. Who knows perhaps he could accomplish another objective as well. The servants would certainly be knowledgeable about local affairs.

So he decided to approach.


Siesta hummed to herself, a rolling melody that peaked and dipped, as she idled her way down the servant halls towards her next task.

Her body and limbs felt taut from the day's labour. And she stretched while as she walked to the sound of a reliving crack. The summoning of familiars had increased the workload of the academy staff by nearly two-folds, and despite having prepared for it days before. It was still an arduous task for them to find out the likes and dislikes of the various beasts and creatures.

It also didn't help that a student had supposedly summoned a dead demon and angel, which meant that it was up to the groundskeeper and a few volunteers to help bury them off-campus; a difficult task given the size from what she heard. So hard that they needed a professor, an earth mage, to help with excavating the pit and moving the bodies.

She gave a chuckle when she recalled how Nemo, the kitchens help and one of the unfortunates 'volunteered', came back during lunch described it in great detail. Though she felt that it was greatly exaggerated. Men always liked to embellish the details a bit, especially when it came to showing off.

Especially when showing off.

Imagine. A demonic creature the size of a manor; armour that was like an insect or lobster's carapace, coloured a rich dark-purple; teeth like a row of needles and bones shaped like scythed talons for hands; the scent of rot, sulphur and death that emitted from it.

What a humorous thought.

Siesta had no doubt that some of the things he mentioned were true. But he also had a habit of lying, trying to impress the other female staff, and her, with lavish tales and stories. So every word was to be taken with a grain of salt -or pound in Nemo's case.

But it was when he began to speak about the dead angel was she intrigued. Of how he was the size of three men with the broad body and muscles of pure, divine gold. Wings that were marred with damage but shined an almost luminous white. And a face that was sterner than the head chefs on a bad day.

It would've been a sight to see. Pity that she was elsewhere at the time. The way Nemo had described the angel reminded her of something her father and grandfather would regale to her, stories passed on from her deceased great grandfather.

Fanciful and wondrous tales of a distant island empire ruled by a mighty emperor embarking on a great crusade to find his lost sons and reclaim lost enslaved colonies. Legions of giant magical knights on fearsome beasts, airships of mammoth proportions and potent magics at his beck and call. Then the riveting account of how he, personally, fought alongside these knights in their war.

She quite enjoyed them. It was sad that he passed away before she was born, the ending forever lost to the grave. And the only thing that remained was a small worn-away pendant tied on her wrist and the annoying habit to rub it for good luck, when nervous.

When she turned the corner, her mind distracted. She found a wall of gold blocked her path. A wall that was structured rather strangely, almost like the abs of a muscled-man. Turning her head slowly upwards. She worked her way up to a crack in the gold, spying pink scarred flesh, and continued higher to be met with a stern gaze from a human face, the outline of white wings behind him.

Blackened glass eyes looked back into her blue eyes, pupils dilating into saucers. Jaws went slack along with arms. Fear growing as her heart slowed to a crawl and held her still.

A mouse in front of a beautiful, and horrifying, golden angel.

"Are you a servant of the academy?" It sounded calm, almost like a rumbling whisper. But to Siesta, it was as loud and frightening as the crack of a nearby thunderbolt.

"Y-ye-ye-yes! I am," she squeaked out, her legs not responding to her urge to flee.

The giant nodded, "That is most fortunate. I was looking for a servant to assist me in something..."

Siesta stood rigidly as the giant lifted up a wicker basket, her mind groping at what may be inside it: A body? Some kind of foul thing? Or was he gonna kidnap her? Her eyes clenched hard, waiting for the inevitable, as she leaned back unconsciously.

She waited for something to happen, but nothing did. Then opening her eyes a smidge, she did not see what she imagined but instead was greeted to the sight of clothes. Students clothing. And relief coursed through her even though she was admittingly still frightened.

"I need assistance in washing my… masters garments. I apologize that I may have unnerved you, a common reaction to those who view my kind. If you are unwell, kindly direct me to the next servant." He spoke out, uncaring of her behaviour as if used to it.

Siesta collected herself, nerves still jittering. "I-I can help you angel." she trailed off.

"Hamael, You may call me Hamael. I serve Louise de la Valliere as her… servant." He introduced himself with a nod.

"Siesta," she replied, and looking more closely realized that his face was not real -instead, it was a mask of a man. "I can take care of those for you, Hamael."

"That would be appreciative, but I insist on coming with you. I would like to learn more about this place and having someone to talk too would be… pleasant., if you will allow me."

"That would not be a problem." She gave a smile, reassured that he truly meant no harm. And she turned curtly to lead the way as Hamael followed along. Her fingers rubbing a heavily polished pendant.


Please Review. It helps me learn.

RustKnight

AN: Even I am not sure, but I have a rough idea.

logros13

AN: Thank you, please continue to let me know what you think.

Lord of Moons

AN: I can't say much as the plot is still in planning, and I am too busy to work on this often. Maybe once a week. But I am forced to use the anime and some parts of the light novel as reference. I can't find a way to read the Ln here.

19Fate99

AN: Thanks for the subscription. I hope to continue being able to bring enjoyment to people.

DragonLark

Bruce USSR

atchoum35

AN: Thanks for the review. And the vote of confidence.