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Atria Honorum
The night before the honored day of the Triumph, a visitor came to the door of the great palace dwelling of the Primarchs.
It was likened unto a pilgrim, knocking at the gates of a pantheon of gods. The Atria Honorum stood as one, with the intricate craftsmanship of the finest masons the Imperium had to offer. This lone figure, garbed in a simple cloak of deepest crimson, stepped lightly into the dim shadows cast by the moons of Ullanor Prime. Lithe of form, the curvature of a woman's body, and the elegance of royalty. She didn't belong there, and whatever reason she had for trespassing into the realm of her betters, it was not welcomed by the spacemarines guarding the doors leading into the dining hall where the gene-sires feasted on laurels and past glories. There had been some measure of hesitance on her part, for saner heads thought of a more craftier form of approach. Alas, there could be no better opportunity than the present.
She was seen first by the Luna Wolves, terminators from Horus Lupercal's honor guard, who watched over the halls like the guardian hounds of the underworld. No amount of guile could let her slip past undetected for long, never against the Emperor's astartes. One of them held up his hand as she stepped out from the shadows. "Hold, woman. You wander into the halls of the Primarchs."
The woman's voice betrayed no fear. Her eyes, swirling with the powers of the Empyrean, flashed in anger. She answered the demigod with the nonchalance of someone who understood his strength, and very well understood her own. "I know whose halls I walk, now let me pass."
"No visitor save for those that the Emperor has deemed worthy shall enter." The terminators brandished their mighty thunder-hammers, the energy fields crackling to life. "Leave now, lest your life be forfeit."
There was sadness in her voice, akin to a lament, as she proclaimed her answer. "Am I denied to see the very sons I helped bring into this world now?"
"Hold a moment! Let her through."
The voice was that of Angronius'. The Primarch had left the dining hall to be alone with his thoughts, feeling homesick and drawn to his desires to be reunited with his family on Nuceria Prime.
The woman looked upon him, eyes wide with budding admiration and awe. He had his father's eyes and firm set jawline, balanced by the flaw of a lumberjack's beard. His skin, like hers, was brown. A dozen or more great and terrible scars marred the perfection of his skin, each worth a story of their own. A mountain of a man was he, a canvas of perfect rolling hills of hard muscle and valleys of flesh rippling with raw masculine power, all of it wrapped in the trappings of a god-king.
"You look upon me with such familiarity, woman." Angronius observed, "I dare say, it borders on offense. Speak, why have you come?"
The woman didn't answer right away. She approached the Primarch, without fear nor hesitation. Her hands stretched forth, reaching out to the being that towered above her. Angronius' lips pulled taut and his hands curled into fists, but he did not strike her.
He allowed her to touch him.
Her fingers graced the firmness of his belly to the little dimple of his navel where once, long ago as a babe, he'd been attached to her in the womb.
"Twenty times, I carried you all." She murmured, "Twenty times, I gave you life."
The god-king's brow furrowed in confusion, "Who are you?"
The woman pulled back the hood adorning her head and revealed a face that evoked a sense of familiarity in Angron, much like the day when he first met the Emperor on Fedan Mohr. Dark of hair, dark of skin like polished brass, with eyes of flickering gold. She reminded him of his wife, Polgara. That alone was enough to disarm him.
She smiled at him, her eyes welling with tears. "My name is Erda... you may call me mother, if you wish."
There was no incredulity on Angronius' part. Somehow, it just made perfect sense. Gone were his thoughts of suspicion and contempt. He bent the knee and let her hands brush up along the trunks of his arms. The god-king embraced Erda, a meeting of progenitor and progeny that easily eclipsed that of the Emperor's reclamation of each Primarch. She was not supposed to be there, or anywhere else. Erda was an exile, sentenced to live out her days far removed from the great Imperium of Man as it slowly rose up from the ashes of Old Night. Angronius went with her on a long walk into the night, preferring her company to the drama and spectacle of his fellow Primarchs.
They talked a long while, with each moment bringing the years of separation between them close.
"I break the law by being here, it won't be long before he comes to take me away." The mysterious woman declared as she and her son ascended the stairs towards one of the lofty balconies overlooking the grand sights of the parade grounds outside the Atria Honorum. "But it is all worth the risk, if I had the chance to speak with but one of you."
"Who shall come to take you?" Angronius asked, "Do you speak of the Emperor?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Erda hung her head, as though the memory shamed her. She leaned heavily upon the ledge, looking into nothingness while the words tumbled freely from her lips. "I am forbidden to set foot outside the barren rock I am exiled to. Such a sentence was meted out, that I might suffer the same as he when you and your brothers were taken away."
"Go on." Angronius bid her.
"It was... it was my fault. I thought that by throwing your gestation pods into the abyss, I would spare you from the fate he planned. He would've made you his generals, to wage wars of conquest that he might wrestle and bend the galaxy to his will. I did not want this for you... but fool that I am, I fear that in my error I condemned you all to a fate far worse than if you had stayed on Terra."
"In the end, I suppose it didn't matter in the least." Erda looked up to him sorrowfully, "You became his tools of war either way, more damaged than I ever thought possible."
"Do you tell me this... hoping for forgiveness?"
"I hope for many things, but forgiveness? Is it too much, too late, to dare ask?"
Angronius was silent for a moment. The revelations this woman who claimed to be his mother proved burdensome, and undoubtedly opened up a myriad of old wounds. If her claims were to be believed, she was indirectly responsible for his landing on Nuceria, and his enslavement at the hands of House Thal'kyr. She would be responsible for a number of other fates as well, shared by those of his brethren who suffered greatly upon their birthworlds like Corvus Corax or Konrad Curze. And yet even so, he had her to thank for many things.
Had she stayed her hand and let him remain on Terra, he would never have met Polgara or Sonjita. He would never have enjoyed thirty years of siring and raising his beloved children, nor shaping an empire of his own. Erda was guilty of all these things, and Angronius loved her for it.
"Good woman, mother of us all..." Angronius said, placing a hand upon hers. "Give thanks that you've spoken to me, and none of my brothers. For I have lived a life of fulfillment. On the world I have come to know as home, I have fallen in love, I have taken control of my destiny however firmly bound to the Imperium it may be. I hold no contempt for what you've done, and I would have you know that I am forever grateful for it."
Erda was stunned. She could never have expected such grace from this godlike being she'd never had the opportunity to love nor raise as her own. Her eyes brimmed with tears once more. Regret, love and passion moved her to embrace her son. "Truly, I am not worthy of you. Yet know that you shall forever have my love... Angronius."
The god-king smiled warmly as he held her close to his breast. "Will you stay a while longer?"
"Till the Emperor comes to take me away, of course I shall."
"He will do no such thing."
Angronius gripped her by the shoulders firmly and looked into her eyes, "I will protect you. You will see the Triumph, and you will be at my side when I receive the laurel."
Erda almost believed him. She shook her head and caressed his hand, "Intentions well received, but it's a fool's errand to resist the will of the Emperor. You would be wise to fall to command-"
Yet, there was ever the stubbornness in the man. "He said as much on the mountains of Fedan Mohr, yet I turned him away. No, he will not contest this nor any of my brothers who shall have ill intentions. I swear it."
The woman sighed deeply and resigned herself to the will of her progeny. "Then I shall enjoy the day of glory, share in the mirth of celebration, while it yet lasts."
She sat with him on the ledge, their feet dangling from the edge without fear of the hundred meter drop of that precarious precipice. Erda basked in the warmth of her son's presence, practically melting into his embrace as she leaned into his body, fingers wrapped into his gigantic own. She asked about Polgara, Angron's desert flower and first love, mother of his cherished dark haired brood of titans. He told Erda of her and of Sonjita, his fiery wildcat and queen of all Stygians, whose loins birthed his scarlet haired pups. Erda enjoyed his stories, revelling in the tale of how he fought Old Nuceria and the life he built after. She asked about her grandchildren, the first Primaris, and the tales he spoke of brought her to fits of laughter and tears in equal measure.
For a time, life in the grim darkness of the far future, was a little brighter for the pair. And oh how the gods grinned maliciously at the thought of its end.
Nuceria Prime
Vendhayana
The Outcast traversed the great streets of the megapolis that Vendhayana had become, short of temper and sore of footing. He'd walked far from Costigane, and now once again, he found himself within a sea of bodies. But tis a sea that parted from him, for his very presence evoked that ever-present foreboding aura that scalded the flesh and caused all hairs to stand on end. No one dared look upon the giant as he strode with the pace of a rolling wave, ready to crash upon the shore.
Alas, his plans for weaving through the crowds undetected were dashed. Quickly, he left the public passageways and entered the harbor where crafts of land and air were moored. The coin that he'd amassed would procure himself a worthy vessel, or perhaps a seat in an outgoing one. The first would allow him the freedom to begin his search for the Catalexis, that mysterious horror his murderous sisters talked about days prior. The second was indirect, but more expensive. Commercial voyages were common, but to get off-world would require a substantial sum. On the other hand, setting himself up with a vessel of his own would require a heavy dose of procedure and bureaucratic red-tape. As the silhouettes of outbound and inbound spacecraft loomed overhead, Ichabod seethed in silence. After moving from one office to the next, he came out empty-handed. No one trusted him for his lack of documents, much less his lack of coin.
"Damn father's lawmakers, to make all things difficult." The Outcast swore under his breath, "Would that I yet held the title of prince, this would be easier."
"Or perhaps you need friends in high places?"
Ichabod froze in his tracks and let his shoulders sag in defeat. He'd grown careless, having not accounted for the twins tracking him down. Xenobia and Janissa leapt from the rooftop of a nearby dilapidated storehouse, descending to meet up with their brother.
Xenobia crossed her arms and pouted, "How rude of you, to take up information freely given and proceed without us."
"How foolish, to think that we would not follow." Janissa added with a disapproving click of her tongue.
Ichabod shrugged, "True on both accounts, but I won't beg for forgiveness."
"Maybe so, but you will beg for a ship..." Xenobia taunted, a mean smirk forming on her lips. "One that we have ready, if you but swallow pride and take up offer."
They weren't going to ask him why he changed his mind. They knew he was a hunter in spirit, a kindred in regards to their own. He wanted to kill the Catalexis horror, but he was not to do it alone. "Your price then?"
"Your arm." Janissa said, "With the three of us against the anomalies lying within those systems, they stand with little chance of resistance."
"Knowing you, you'd wish they'd put up a fight." Ichabod uttered a loud huff. He didn't like the idea of their company, on a long voyage and journey through the unknown. And yet to turn them away out of spite would be too petty for his taste. At the end of day, they were still his sisters. "Very well then, let us be away."
The trio departed, heading for a specially reserved dock where the frigate commissioned in the name of the twins was moored. They would go without a fleet nor escort, to be swift in their endeavors. The ship was named the Siren, a void-vessel crafted for speed and incredible maneuverability through both space and the Warp. It didn't bristle with a large array of guns as most Imperial ships were wont to bear, only a handful designed for crippling blows to hamstring enemy vessels or shatter shields for boarding parties to seize control of their bridges- a strategy often employed by Xenobia and Janissa to favorable outcomes.
Ichabod stowed his burdens within the cabin assigned to him, then went up to the bridge to meet the crew. Once everyone and everything of import was safely inside, the void-shields were closed in over the hull and the Siren cast off its moorings to climb its way into the skies of Nuceria Prime. A little while later, it entered the Warp and made its pathing towards the Catalexis systems.
Mundus Tropaeum
It was the final day of the Triumph, the hour in which the sons of the Emperor would be honored according to their accomplishments. And indeed, there were many accomplishments. But the toast of the day would be solely reserved for Horus Lupercal, mastermind of the liberation of Ullanor. And at his side stood the slayers of the Ork warlord who kept it in shackles, Leman and Angronius. All others stood in second place, a fact that stung the pride of many and caused the wounds to fester with ripening jealousy and thinly veiled resentment.
"Fucking barbarian..." Roboute Guilliman muttered to himself as he watched the god-king ascend the floating dais, where the exiled mother of all Primarchs stood with him and his captains. "To seize glory for himself, merely earned through the death of one particular Ork! Have I not slain millions in the name of the Imperium, and should I not stand as honored?"
He was not alone in this regard, for even the Primarchs Lion El'Jonson and Perturabo seethed in likewise bitterness. All that the Emperor bestowed upon them were mere trinkets, participation awards that bruised the ego harder than the blows of the enemy. The Primarchs held themselves to lofty status and had great pride in themselves, seeking glories that were not theirs. The Emperor, when he arrived planetside, knew of this but paid little heed to the grumblings of his lesser honored sons.
Horus, his favorite and friend, was all on his mind that day. He descended upon the field of mastercrafted stone and marble, shadowed by his faithful custodes. The gleaming golden statues that heaped praises to the skies loomed overhead, while servitor drones hovered above to record the spectacle for posterity. The Emperor met with his sons, who took a knee before their liege and father. The Emperor caught sight of Erda at Angronius' side, and his brow arched in disbelief.
He didn't recall bringing her there. Her presence was a grave insult, one that he held Angronius responsible for. Still, he would not allow his misgivings to ruin such storied perfection of a day. Horus, clad in his newly painted armor of royal green and opulent gold, awaited the Emperor's word patiently as the cheer of the crowds died down to silence. The Emperor paused for a moment, and to the surprise of all, elevated his favored son to the heights of military and political power the likes of which would never be again. "Horus Lupercal, Lord of Cthonia! In honor of all services rendered, I name you Warmaster and from this day forth all of my armies and generals shall take orders from you as if the words came from mine own mouth. You have much work to do for there are still many worlds to liberate, many peoples to rescue. My trust is with you. Hail Horus! Hail the Warmaster!"
Horus received the great golden laurel crown and embraced his father. A bright and proud smile was on his face as he waved to the masses, thanking all of his allies regardless of the levels of loyalty held, promising to uphold the ideals and expectations that came with his new title. The Emperor moved to honor the rest, beginning first with the wolf-king. "Leman Russ of Fenris, your savagery against the greenskin horde has not gone unnoticed. You have broken the Orks, risking your very self to see the act done personally... and so shall you be rewarded."
The Emperor handed him a great fur cloak, taken from the body of a nigh unkillable xenos manticore. "Take up this mantle of the dreaded Scylla, which shall symbolize your status as right hand for your brother Horus."
The fanged smile upon Leman Russ' face froze. It was apparent that he took offense to the idea of being subservient to a fellow Primarch. But the worst was yet to come. The Emperor turned to Angronius and bestowed upon him a very similar title, "You, Angronius Thal'kyr, have proven most loyal and faithful to your charge. When once you have been deemed most rebellious. I have no physical symbol of office to grant, save for a title. You shall stand as third pillar to this great triumvirate. Horus, my word and will, shall lead you. You and Leman Russ shall follow close, and all others after you."
The grim countenance of the god-king betrayed little, for Angronius cared not for the titles that so many of his brothers coveted. He received the new title in silence, preferring to be done with the whole spectacle as soon as possible. A public scene, however, could not be avoided. For the Emperor bade his custodes to seize Erda, planning to lock her up once more upon that barren world he'd exiled her to. And as promised, Angronius stood between them.
"Lay a hand on her and I shall part you from it." He bristled at the gilded giants. The custodes stopped in mid-step, but held their ground. With a questioning look, they inquired of the next course of action from their lord.
The Emperor was neither amused nor fazed by this display of rebellion. "Angronius, stand aside. You overstep out of ignorance."
"I know enough to understand what is right!" The god-king declared, much to his sire's displeasure. Immediately, all mirth and celebration ground to a halt as the scene turned serious. "This woman is my mother, and falls under my protection!"
"That woman is a traitor who wrongfully thrust you all to the Warp, denying you your destiny as Primarchs!" The Emperor's voice thundered with mounting fury. The day was spoiled, and he was but a hair's breadth from revoking lofty titles for swift judgement. In the background, as all eyes were drawn to the exchange, Lorgar and his son were smiling strangely. "Continue to stand against my will and you shall join her-"
"Everyone please..." Horus mediated, "Cool your tempers and be reasonable. This woman is also known to me, as is her sentence. Angronius, my brother, you have pledged your protection?"
The god-king nodded, "I did, and I remain firmly fixed!"
"Very well." Horus turned to the Emperor, "Father, hear me, I pray. I have asked for little in all the years shared between us, but I ask of this favor for this storied day. Turn away your thoughts from this woman, for she holds no bearing upon the destinies of your sons. Has she not suffered enough, to be exiled away from us? Those that she held dear, so much so that she chose to betray you?"
"Aye." The Emperor replied. "And I've of a mind to keep her that way, a merciful thing despite her treachery."
"The merciful thing would be to grant her within Angronius' ward. Let it be the physical token of his new station, and Erda shall stand as his charge. Since she came all this way to see him, would it not be fitting that she remain at his side all her days?"
Befuddled and exasperated, the Emperor dismissed the matter with a wave of his hand and left the grounds taking with him his custodes. He did, after all, have a project waiting for him on Terra. And he wouldn't let this petty squabble delay him any further. Erda was not his enemy, but neither was she his friend. He'd spared her life out of respect for the love he once held for her, and he didn't have the heart to deal with her any more than he had to. At least now an opportunity to wash himself of responsibility presented itself, "Do with her what you will!"
Relieved, Erda gripped Angronius' hand and squeezed it out of gratitude. Horus approached his mother and brother, now in total command of the Great Crusade. "Angronius, you owe me much. See to it that you take good care of her. I would not see you abandon her upon the nearest agri-world or some other backwater, understood?"
"Yes, Horus." Angronius acknowledged. His brother was Warmaster now, and none could bear the title with more honor than he.
A shadow loomed over the grounds of the Triumph, from a great void-vessel that eclipsed all others in both size and strength. After journeying through the Warp for many solar weeks, the fleets of Nuceria had come to grace Mundus Tropaeum's orbit and bolster the ranks of the War Hounds with much needed strength. And at the helm of it all was the Conqueror. The great flagship had been built and brought to bear, armed and ready for the Great Crusade. Commanding it was none other than Lotara Sarrin, firstborn daughter of Angronius and House Thal'kyr. With her came the whole of the family that were able to brave the voyage to Ullanor, hoping to at last be reunited with the patriarch that started it all.
A little shuttle bore them down to the Atria Honorum, where an eager god-king awaited them with baited breath. Angronius forewent all the fanfare. The moment his eyes fell upon the familiar sight of his queens, he rushed out of the palace, readily throwing aside his kingly poise to sweep up his wives into his arms. Polgara, beautiful and elegant Polgara, laughed joyfully as she was reunited with her husband as did Sonjita. He squeezed them tightly to himself with as much care as his brawny arms would allow, aware of his sons and daughter as they crowded around his legs.
More of the Primarchs gathered into the background to witness this odd spectacle. Their own brother, the savage dog of a Primarch, was one with his pack. As always, the sight stoked the flames of passion in each of them. Some beheld it with welcoming kinship, others sulked in silence. Guilliman in particular, who had been apprised of his inability to sire primaris of his own, turned away from what should have been a heartwarming scene out of envy. It was the last straw, he'd been dishonored enough at the Triumph.
"At last, I hold you in my arms again!" Angronius roared, showering each of his women with kisses. Suddenly, the years between them didn't seem all that long. Polgara and Sonjita were as beautiful as the day he'd left them. The dreary event of the Triumph became bearable, now that he had a reason to celebrate.
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