{oOo}

Fulgrim wished he knew what to do with Beryl. On the one hand, she saved him a lot of trouble. On the other hand, she brought that thing and caused all sorts of trouble. She never did explain the whole liking situation either. Not to his satisfaction anyway.

And now Father had a wife.

Russ was enthusiastic. Jaghatai apparently had a harem, which he somehow managed to hide up till now. Sanguinius was avoiding her. Roboute was looking traumatized. He had a headache.

"She poked her hand through mine," Ferrus Manus groaned.

Between them there was a whole bottle of strong Fenrisian brew. So far it had about as much effect as water, but Fulgrim wasn't about to give up. Neither was Ferrus Manus.

"She kept talking about me having children with her daughter," Fulgrim replied mournfully.

They both emptied a tankard and it was testament to how Fulgrim was feeling, since usually he would have objected to them.

"I don't feel the need to… breed," Ferrus Manus said, his tone distasteful. "Flesh is weak."

Fulgrim merely sighed and closed his eyes. He knew whom Father's wife had meant and he did not know how to feel about it. Nails digging into his palms, he tried, really tried to finally reach some conclusion.

He looked up sharply, as he felt Ferrus' large hand on his shoulder. "You look tired."

{oOo}

Beryl sealed the bandages that covered her now-marked arm from shoulder to wrist, and stood, staring out at the city from her balcony.

She didn't want to go. On one hand, she now had the Emperor's favor and her mother was pleased. On the other hand…
If Fulgrim hated her still, she didn't want to face him. She didn't want to exist. Didn't want to walk among them. Didn't want to wake.

But she was supposed to be there,right? A big celebration, for the Mother. And she was her Mother's Good Daughter, the one who fed her biomass and carcasses by the score. She was fairly sure, if it was only expanding the Imperium, then she would have been considered a hero. She didn't feel like a hero.
She felt like a monster.
And yet she got to her feet, went to her wardrobe. Pulled out a dress; long sleeved and a deep burgundy.. and then she made her way to prepare.

No point in insulting her superiors.

The party was huge, as befit an Imperial Wedding, something none had ever seen before. Despite her attempt to blend in, vanish, she was called forward. Praised.

Her stomach turned over as she caught sight of Fulgrim, frowning, clearly unhappy. That was her fault too, right?

She wished for her visor. It hurt. She didn't want anyone to see it hurting. She slid her tattered facade up, and sat in silence, sipping from a glass of wine from one of the newly conquered worlds. Perhaps he would not see her?

{oOo}

Fulgrim did not find her. Ferrus Manus was doing his best to feed him a piece of every cake they could their hands on. Since alcohol hadn't worked, he supposed an attempt at comfort food was in order. It was most definitely not weakness on his side to partake in them as well, since he was cheering up a friend.

So, it wasn't that he found her, but more like stumbled upon her, while trying to convince Ferrus to stop, because he was starting to feel ill.

"At least let me try something that has no sugar in it?"

Shit. Oh shit.

"My lord." Beryl said, voice subdued, offering him an elegant curtsy. "I was not.." hoping to see you here. "..expecting to run into you." And she didn't know what to do anymore and so many parts of her wanted to weep, or hide, or beg. To apologize.

She knew she did not look well, paler than normal. Blood loss did that, after all. and though she'd eaten well, it had been more of a chore, to refuel and rebuild what she'd expended for the ritual.

Best to shield her injured arm. He didn't need to know... anything. About what she'd been doing, what she was going to do after this.

Fulgrim gave her a startled look—he hadn't noticed her until she spoke to him. He flushed, opening his eyes wider. Then his expression grew focused as he shoved his plate into Ferrus' hands.

"We need to talk," he said. "Now. Come."

She wasn't going to sneak out of the talk. He had questions.

She paled even as he spoke, straightened her spine by force of will, and tried not to look terrified of the consequences of this talk he had in mind.

Weakness was very unattractive after all, though.. She was terrified. Of his hatred.

"Yes my lord." she said quietly, voice subdued. She would answer all of his questions, and choke down the inevitable rejection as best as she could.

Thank the gods that she would probably be assigned right back to collecting biomass after this; because if he hated her later, at least they... at least she could have something to focus on. Other than that.

Fulgrim led her out of the hall, silent and purposeful. Once they were away from the crowds, he stopped. He towered over her, immobile like a statue of silver, amethyst and gold.

"When you first appeared, you told Father you would only serve under my command," he said. "You were very helpful… and yet you chose to withhold critical information from me. Why?"

His voice was flat, devoid of emotions.

She felt the cold vise of fear clamp down hard around her heart, her throat, and yet she could not refuse him.

This... would not end well.

Ice and ash. Choking her.

"...Your father does not wish me to discuss the warp beings known as Slaanesh, Tzeentch, Nurgle or Khorne with you." She said flatly. Treason be damned. It would... it would save him if he knew, right?

"They are a threat to your Imperium, the first is an active threat to you."

A pause. Then she continued. "And I am not allowed to discuss certain information with you, or your siblings. But Ruin is a weapon I bound to me that is capable of destroying such beings, and the woman your father married is another such being."

She resisted the urge to shuffle, kept her back ramrod straight. "We are, as you have probably been informed, related, though very distantly." She did not flinch. "I was involved in the binding of the woman, my ancestress, to your father's cause."

What else could she offer him but that?

He nodded. Father did not say Beryl was untrustworthy. He supposed he'd have to live with this explanation. There were other things he wanted explained.

"That creature implied you have feelings for me," he said. "If that is true, I would have preferred to have been informed of them before I chose to let you stay in my rooms."

Beryl felt as if she was in free-fall all of a sudden, and not the pleasant exhilaration of a parachute-dive either. Oh, no. This was being pushed off a 15 story building with the knowledge you're going to be a red smear on the ground in a very short period of time.

"I did not believe they were acceptable, to offer you, and so I said nothing." she told him, a bitter twist to the lips. Silent selfmockery. "The creature is correct about it when he says both he and I are... unfit... for proper company." Human company. How many billions of lives had they ended, would they end together? She didn't know. Hadn't counted. But Fulgrim deserved more than a murderer in his bed, a coldblooded monster who had already failed him. Twice now. If not a thousand.

"I do not get to decide?" Fulgrim asked. He pinched the bridge of his nose—he was missing some vital information here. Why would she think that? She was smart, she was quite pleasant company; why would she be so afraid he'd reject her?

That... surprised her clearly. She looked to be at a loss for words.

"...I...What?" she said weakly.

"Ah, forgive me, I didn't think it would be of interest." she floundered for words again, eyes wide, lost in confusion."I apologize?" she offered, still unsure of quite what to do now. Well, on one hand, she was no longer terrified. On the other hand she was now so far out of what she'd expected that she needed a map. And a compass.

"No, obviously not," Fulgrim snorted. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was going to be counterproductive to snap at her. He watched her for a while, considering his next words.

"Do you recognize this blade?" he asked, finally, handing her a detailed drawing. It depicted a blade he had no right to know—it did not exist in this universe and never would, if Beryl's plans worked. Fulgrim would not lose Fireblade and Ferrus would not forge the second blade.

Beryl had died as a daemonette, true, but.. she'd survived long enough. Just long enough to hear that Fulgrim, the one she had failed to protect, in the past she'd tried to change... She'd heard that he'd survived. That he was free, healthy. Armed. And hated her.

And that blade had been part of what she'd been informed of.

She went stark pale.

"Yes." she said faintly. "It would have been a replacement for your Fireblade, forged by Ferrus, after Slaanesh had captured you, and only come into existence after your brothers had rescued you from its minion's clutches."

"How did you come to see this?" she asked. While she knew of... things... from Ruin, not everything it told her was accurate. She understood it came from Ruin's being Chaos... and being an utter troll.

Fulgrim watched her with a frown. Slaanesh? She had mentioned the name, but… what was it? How could it capture a Primarch? This was a question for later. If he wanted her to be honest, so should he.

"I had dreams, of myself," he said, looking away. "I look older. Different—and I have this sword. I thought you were in one of them, but now I'm not sure."

Beryl flinched. "That would depend on what context you saw me in."

Probably as the daemonette, she thought, bitterly, hurting inside.

"Are these... visions... normal?" she asked, tiredly. It might be that she'd failed him again, and if she had... it hurt.

"No, I've never had any," Fulgrim replied. "The woman looked a lot like you, but it seemed like she was very close with me."

Hope. Beautiful poisonous hope. Bitter-sweet nectar of the soul. She tried to strangle it back down and yet it persisted, like a weed.

That... was a surprise. And one that she would have to interrogate Ruin to learn about. Nevertheless...

"Some visions are from possible futures." she told him, hesitantly, "Your brother, Konrad... His psykers have them. They seem to have gotten the ability from his geneseed."

... If they were talking about possible futures...

"The reason I sent Ruin in ahead of your fleet was because that sector had temples to the being known as Slaanesh." she said, quietly.

"A being known to drug and destroy its opponents through extremes of pain and pleasure. It... is very capable of subverting most; and since I was... informed you were a target for the creature, I sent Ruin in first. That creature and its minions have nothing they can offer it."

Nothing. Not even Slaanesh could raise the dead, particularly when its starseed-soul was missing. And Ruin would stop for nothing else other than that, Beryl knew, even as she wouldn't have stopped for anything but Fulgrim.

He bit the inside of his cheek as he listened. His whole being reeled from accepting any of this and yet… "And you did not tell me?"

If she was right, then did he not need such knowledge? Why keep him in the dark? What to believe in?

"I was not allowed." Beryl said honestly. "Many people, who are informed of what is commonly called "The Ruinous Powers" turn to worship them, for one reason or another, and thus betray their own race. I have seen it happen before, on many worlds. Your father wishes to keep you safe and I have already told you more than has been offered to most, if not all of your other brothers."

"I see," he said. So, this was the reason? Father thought him too weak? It hurt so badly... "That is for now. You may go."

Beryl knew that look, the hurt in his eyes, and to see it... it was unacceptable.

"You are not weak." Beryl told him flatly. "I know of these things because I fell once. It is.. a very hard climb back up to sanity, when one of those monsters has its way."

She steeled herself, went on. "Many planets fell to those beings. It only took a few cultists, many of them less strong-willed than you, to open the way. I did not wish to take any chances. Your safety is... important to me." Vital, she did not say, to her own sanity. She had failed him once. She could not allow herself to fail him again.

Fulgrim closed his eyes, as he thought. He wished it was easier... Still, he did have to say to her. "I'm sorry. I don't understand why. You don't know me. I don't know you. Why am I so important to you?"

What could she answer to that? So many goddamn platitudes in conventional and ancient romances, all of them so true in slanted ways.

I love you. I adore you. I would die for you. I would live and die to protect you and you only. You light up my life.

How could she say this to him when they were all but strangers?

{oOo}