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The Primarch's first blow threw a Black Legionary high into the air, blood streaming behind the corpse in a red trail. His second strike smashed a Traitor Terminator into a bronze and marble column with enough force to drive the Chaos worshipper clean through it, and out the other side. A spiked Power Fist swung for Guilliman's chest, only to be lopped from its wielder's arm before the blow could land. Guilliman's return swing parted his attacker's head from his shoulders, cauterising the stump of the Traitor's neck as the body crumpled to the floor.
On it went, the Primarch moving with such speed that even the Heretics' superhuman reactions couldn't save them.
For Guilliman, his last memory was a desperate battle against a tainted brother, a fraternal contest of godlike strength and barbed, hateful taunts - then poison and pain beyond endurance. Now he found himself in strange surroundings, facing a twisted horde of creatures that were nightmarish parodies of the Adeptus Astartes ideal. And worse- he now stood face to face with the brother who started it all.
His gaze turns cold as he beheld the Lupercal, a stark contrast to the look Horus had on his own. A thousand questions rose up like a tidal wave within the Primarch's mind, a thousand enough to drown him. The exchange between the Primarchs were little more than the fleeting glances and the unspoken thoughts circling like vultures in their minds.
The Black Legionaries continued to hurl themselves at the reborn Lord of Ultramar, clearly willing to sustain any amount of casualties if it meant laying Guilliman low. Yet they were laughably outmatched in almost every regard. Sweeping the Emperor's Sword in wide arcs, firing off hammering volleys from the Hand of Dominion, the Primarch reaped a bloody tally as he drove the Traitors back. As they retreated, so the prone form of Marneus Calgar was revealed, his armour cracked and his face beaten bloody. Guilliman paused for a moment in his rampage, looking down upon this fallen son with an unreadable expression on his face.
Calgar stirred, one eye opening to look up at the Primarch reborn. Satisfied that his scion lived, Guilliman pressed on, leaving the fallen Chapter Master to stare in disbelief at his resurrected gene-sire.
By the time reinforcements reached the Temple of Correction, the fighting was done. Every single Ultramarine who rushed into that vaulted space dropped to their knees in worshipful awe at the sight of their Primarch reborn.
It was here that words were exchanged between the two demigods. Guilliman, hiding his anger beneath a veneer of calm, slowly turned his gaze back to the traitor who plunged the whole galaxy into the dark age once more. The thousand questions rose up once more, and they came crashing down as soon as Horus broke the silence.
"Roboute, my brother."
At this, Guilliman let out a building roar of pure, undiluted fury. His gauntleted hand clenches around his father's sword and falls upon the Wolf of Terra with blinding speed. Horus moves just as quickly and raises Soulrender to defend himself, leaping backwards as the enraged Primarch lets out another strike. Overtaken by the raw emotion of betrayal, and indescribable rage, Guilliman hacks away at his brother like a madman, totally oblivious to the fact that his actions undermined his character's supposed exemplary discipline and self-restraint that defined his Legion as much as the others who had followed the Codex's doctrine. Without a single stable thought to his desire to split the Arch-traitor in two, it proved to be enough of a flaw for Horus to exploit, and he disarms Roboute with a deft twist of his spear- ridding the Primarch of his sword.
But Guilliman was not to be stopped. With a bestial scream, reminiscent of Angron of the Worldeaters, Roboute leaps forward and slams his fist into Horus' unprotected face. Horus doesn't even move to stop him at this point, instead opening his arms in a beckoning gesture as one would gladly accept punishment, and welcomes Guilliman's wrath. Blow after blow rains down heavily on the downed Primarch while all watched in shocked silence.
None dared to come between the rivaling demigods, none wished to defy either one of them.
Bruises and cuts formed over Horus' cheeks and forehead as Roboute relentlessly pounds at him, but the pain was dulled by the thought of how he deserved this. Everything Guilliman knew was gone, replaced by the madness and horror of a future he had tried so desperately to prevent ten thousand standard years before, and it was all his fault.
When hitting him proved to be insufficient, Guilliman bellowed out a cry of frustration, then put his hands over his brother's throat. His eyes blazed with the fires of oblivion, staring deep into those brown orbs that had once looked upon him with kinship- now marred by the memory of betrayal. Growling and snarling like a maddened dog, Roboute finally spat the words from his mouth, "You dare to call me brother?! YOU DARE TO SHOW YOUR FACE TO ME, AFTER WHAT YOU HAVE DONE?!" His grip tightens, "DID YOU THINK I WOULD WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS?!"
On Terra, upon the Golden Throne, the Emperor of Mankind watches from beyond the veil of reality the tense exchange between his two sons. Although he was glad that Roboute has returned from his long sleep, he was not at all pleased with his son's reaction to Horus' return. Something had to be done, that much was certain, for he knew Guilliman would be too stubborn to listen should anyone intervene with his desire to kill Horus.
Anyone, that is, save for the Emperor himself.
"ANSWER ME!" Guilliman thundered, raising his fist and bringing it back down upon his enemy.
"No." Horus rasped, spitting the blood out from his mouth. "But this comes close to what I envisioned." He places his hands upon those that gripped so tightly upon his neck, "If you want revenge, Roboute, take it." A thousand others would give anything to be where Guilliman stood, upon Horus with hands wrapped around his throat, ready to choke out the life from the man who brought the Imperium low.
And yet, he too was the man who came to them in their darkest hour.
Ashamed of her hesitance to come to Horus' aid after all he had done for her aboard the Planetkiller, Saint Celestine finally intervenes. "My lord! I beg of you, don't!" Loyalty, that was what the noble Sgt. Aggregius held for the Penitent Primarch, and now the Saint bears it as well. Her words were reminiscent of that day when she tested the Primarch's convictions, "Horus Lupercal is not our enemy! Not yours, not mine, but an enemy of the Ruinous Powers! The Emperor decreed it so!"
Roboute was livid, but calmed down enough to gauge this revelation, and his grip falls lax enough to let his brother breathe. "Speak plainly, whoever you are."
Celestine had yet to bear her name when the veil between realities was split aside, giving way to the Emperor's astral form! His voice was a storm, wrathful and unrelenting as one might batter the palisades of an old castle. "She is Celestine! She is my daughter, as you are my son!" The Emperor, of course, meant the title in an endearing and sentimental manner, but nevertheless brought a swell of pride within the Saint's heart at her god's acknowledgement. What greater honor would be there besides the Emperor's recognition?
At the sight of their god walking amongst them and gracing them with his presence, all fell to their knees and worshiped the Emperor's astral form. Fervent murmurs of prayers and mutters of jubilant adoration were sounded, although they were all ignored by the Emperor as he rebuked his wayward son. "Roboute Guilliman, I command you to unhand your brother this instant!"
Roboute's eyes were wide with astonishment, and the cogs in his mind stopped turning for a moment. His mouth opened and closed twice over, then he follows as bidded, bowing his head respectfully as he moves off of Horus.
"Impeccable timing as always, father." Horus muttered gratefully, wincing at the aching spots formed over his face from Guilliman's beatings.
"Let this be the last time anyone dares to move against Horus Lupercal!" The Emperor declared sternly, eyes falling upon those who had doubt lurking in their hearts. "All of you, heed my words! I have sent my son on a mission to bring mankind back from the brink! Hinder or disrupt him in any way, you will answer to me!" The astral projection must be brief, the Emperor knew this. He wanted to say more, but he could only hold on for so long. "That goes for you as well, Roboute. Restrain your anger and see reason. I don't need another petty squabble coming from you."
"Yes, father."
"And as for you, Horus, I did not bring you back from the Warp only to have you reduce yourself to...whatever this is. I have never disowned you as the Imperium has, that should be enough! Carry out your duty and let nothing stop you." The astral projection fades as quickly as it forms, leaving the onlookers bewildered and blinking in disbelief over what just happened. Amidst the murmur of excited onlookers, Roboute, though somewhat calmed by his father's words of rebuke, showed resentment as he addressed his brother. Each word was weighed down by the fires of vengeance still alight upon his heart, but at last he broke the silence.
"What are your needs, brother?" He placed duty above passion, just as Aggregius had done on Ibrium. No doubt the Primarch's words tasted like foul acid in his mouth as he called him 'brother', but the mere fact that Roboute was willing to put aside his anger for the cause was enough for Horus, and he took what was offered.
There will be harsh words exchanged between them in private, that much was certain.
Guilliman made straight for the fortress' strategium, and - in a dramatically charged moment that would become enshrined in statuary - formally accepted command of the defence from First Captain Agemman. Marneus Calgar stood at his Primarch's side during this exchange, sorely wounded and supported by two Honour Guards, yet determined to be present all the same. Guilliman showed his nobility by humbly requesting the Chapter Master's leave to assume full command of the Ultramarines at that time. Calgar shrugged off his Battle-Brothers and, grimacing in pain, knelt before his gene-sire. He matched Guilliman's solemnity as he offered unending fealty to the Primarch, and bequeathed full control of the Chapter to him in perpetuity.
Like an impresario settling before his instrument, Guilliman spread his hands upon the strategium table and took a deep breath before beginning to command. With his every utterance, the invaders' plight became more apparent. The Primarch's strategic acumen, his tactical genius and miraculous mental acuity were unmatched. The leaders of the Ultramarines looked on in amazement as Guilliman marshalled the defenders like regicide pieces, drinking in reams of strategic data and issuing a steady stream of orders that turned one fight after another in the defenders' favour. Calgar and his lieutenants had executed a superhuman campaign of defiance against the invaders, but the Primarch was operating on a different mental plane.
At Guilliman's command, thunderous overlapping firestorms and interlaced webs of interceptor strikes cleared the airspace over the Fortress of Hera. No longer threatened from above, Ultramarines reserves and vast numbers of Defence Auxilia flowed into the fight in masterful deployment patterns. Feints, ambushes, false retreats and sudden, overwhelming counterattacks ripped through the Chaos forces and drove them from within the fortress' grounds. Guilliman wielded hundreds of thousands of warriors at once, predicting every move his enemies made and countering before they had even thought to act.
By the time the Primarch and his coterie strode out to lead the fight in person, the Chaos attackers were reeling in disarray. The attack led by Guilliman into the heart of their lines was like a final bolt round placed between the eyes of a wounded enemy. Black Legionaries, Iron Warriors, Alpha Legion and Night Lords - all were hurled back from the walls. Traitor Titans toppled like vast, flaming trees to smash down in ruin. Just three solar hours after his resurrection, Roboute Guilliman concluded the wholesale purge of Chaos invaders from the Fortress of Hera, and confidently proclaimed the Ultramarines' stronghold secure.
There now came a time where breath could be drawn, and stock taken. Even as lumbering Servitors and Chapter Serf work gangs laboured to shore up the fortress' battered defences, Guilliman summoned a select company to attend him in the Chapter Master's sanctum. This had long been the domain and throne room of Marneus Calgar. Now it would become the sanctum of the Primarch himself, and it was here that he was formally invested as Lord of Ultramar and Master of the Ultramarines once more. Calgar, Tigurius, Agemman and their closest lieutenants were present for Guilliman's elevation, as were representative brothers from every company of the Chapter. The Celestinians, too, attended Guilliman's formal coronation, the Saint herself ceremonially bestowing her blessings upon the Primarch.
Horus beheld the ceremony from afar, obscured in the rear from sight as his brother took the throne of Ultramar, and smiled with silent approval.
As the ceremony concluded, Guilliman rose and addressed the assembly. There was much to be done, and countless questions to which the Primarch required answers. Before he could act further, Roboute Guilliman needed to know everything that had occurred during his long absence.
"Thousands of years have passed.", he said. "And look what has become of them. Of us. Idolatry. Ignorance. Suffering and squalor, in the name of a god who never desired the title."
Guilliman shook his head and stood, pacing across the Chapter Master's sanctum to stare up at the banners hanging on the western wall. Each was the height of an Imperial Knight, a cascade of masterfully woven cloth depicting the glories of the Ultramarines. Slain alien beasts, executed Heretic despots, worlds saved and worlds burned. The Chapter's proud iconography was much in evidence, but so was the Aquila of the Imperium and there, presiding over several of the heraldic designs, a figure with throne and halo who must surely be the Emperor. He murmured, unsure to whom he spoke. He knew only that he had to vocalise his situation before it drove him mad. Not for the first time since his return, Guilliman wished for one of his brothers to speak with.
They, at least, might have understood.
Alas, he was left with the one, the only one whose face brought fresh thoughts of ill intent and invoked murderous desire.
"Step out of the shadows, Warmaster!" Roboute growled, that title of honor ringing hollow through his words. He had already dealt his share of blows, it was time for a more disciplined exchange. "You stand where all others have left. I assume you wish to break words with me?"
"Frankly, I find myself debating the decision." Horus answered, revealing himself to his brother in the throneroom. "I would wish it so, but are you in the balanced state of mind?"
"I am." Roboute leaned back, interlocking his gauntleted fingers together as he gauged the Lupercal from atop the gilded throne. "But my patience is thin. Say what you have to, and begone. Father placed a heavy burden upon both our shoulders- to fix the damage you've caused Mankind with your ambitions- I will not have each hour wasted."
Horus nodded, "That I shall tend to once I've said my piece."
"Then speak." The Primarch of Ultramar bade him, albeit begrudgingly. "I am listening."
"You are angry with me, and you are justified in being so." Horus began, saying the words that the Emperor failed to say in his brief intervention earlier that day. "I know what I have done, and though it sounds like a coward's excuse- my actions then were brought upon by the Hand of Chaos. Were I a lesser man I would've refused to own it, but I am not, for I am a Primarch."
Roboute's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing.
"Father rended my soul from existence the final day I laid siege to Terra- a mercy that I did not deserve." Horus reflected on that fateful moment in his past- their past. "He brought me back from oblivion- a pardon I did not deserve. Words cannot describe the agony in my soul as I behold what has become of the Imperium, of what has become of Mankind. For my sins, I deserve to be killed a thousand times over! But I am here, brother. Father has forgiven me, where all others have forsaken me. If you question my convictions, you only need to look to that." Horus paused, swallowed the lump in his throat as tears formed at the tips of his eyelids. "I fight not only to redeem myself before you and all of Mankind, I fight for the love of my father- our Emperor and Maker. Perhaps I will never earn your forgiveness, nor shall I have the bonds of brotherhood between us as the days of the Great Crusade. Perhaps that too, I do not deserve. But I shall forge onward, nevertheless."
Having emptied his heart of the weight of words, Horus took his leave and turned towards the doors leading to the outer halls of the palace, but was stopped by Roboute's call. "Horus, wait!"
The Lupercal gulped, expecting a bolt-round to be relinquished through his skull any moment.
"There's hope still," Roboute's footfalls thunder across the floor, "Even for you." He stared out at the work gangs through the window, labouring to repair the damage of war, and the Ultramarines stood proud and determined upon the ramparts. "I see those who follow you; the Sons of Leman Russ, the Sons of Dorn, the Blood Angels and the Templars. I see Celestine, Saint of the Ecclesiarchy. I look upon them and a revelation dawns on me. They had been born into this dark millennium, and had known nothing but the hardship, suffering and despair of unending conflict. Yet still they struggled on unbowed, despite the countless enemies ranged against them." He stared straight into the eyes of his penitent brother, "You condemned them into this fate, that is true. But if they are willing to forgive your transgressions. What right have I, a superhuman son of the Emperor himself, to show any less compassion than these who were born in darkness?"
Horus dared to smile as Roboute finally lets go of the anger that burned in his heart.
"I forgive you, brother." Guilliman laid his hand upon the Lupercal's shoulder. "Let us bury the past and look to the future. There is much to be done, but I am grateful to have you standing by me."
The brothers turned from the palace and joined the Crusaders waiting outside. "If it makes you feel better, you can hit me again." Horus joked.
"Heh, don't tempt me."
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