New
Fulgrim is an administrator, not a warrior. He feels out of place in his new purple armor. A part of him wonders just how much money went into making it and how he could have used those funds. It's not that he doesn't like it: it's beautiful and it doesn't hamper him at all, but he's just not used to it.
There are many things he isn't used to: that he's no longer Fulgrim the foundling, but Primarch Fulgrim; that people liken him to a Phoenix; that he doesn't have to worry about resources and how to use them efficiently (well, that's not exactly true, he has to admit; Space Marines and the Imperial Army aren't workers in a refinery, but they're still people and ammunition is not, say, crude oil, but the gist is still the same); that people have the time to decorate things like his armor, let alone produce art and most of all that he has a father and brothers.
The last thought makes him smile. He has only known Horus for a few weeks and yet he can't imagine a better brother. The Primarch of the Luna Wolves is what Fulgrim considers the ideal Primarch should be; both a warrior and a politician. Just by watching him, he learns how to become more like he should be.
He knows he has a long way ahead of himself. The mere fact that he feels uncomfortable when presenting himself as a warrior is a testament to that. He looks at his reflection in the mirror and shakes his head; if nothing else, he looks the part.
To think he was unsure about the colours. Of course, he said nothing to his father, but he did tell Horus he's far too pale to wear anything that vivid. People will only see the armor, he had argued. His brother told him not to worry over such things. Nobody would ever manage to create something that would overshadow a Primarch.
Now, he has to agree with Horus. It was silly of him to have doubted his brother: of course Horus knows better. He is the Emperor's favourite and has performed the duties of a Primarch since much longer then Fulgrim.
To tell the truth, he is envious of Horus. Unlike him, Horus is a son to the Emperor in more than just the biological sense. He is not only the Emperor's creation, but a beloved child that had a father for years. Fulgrim can't help but to wish he were in Horus's place.
If it were the case, he wouldn't feel like he doesn't really belong, like he's not really what everyone thinks he is.
He hears the door open and veers around, to face a grinning Horus. Fulgrim isn't sure if he is happy or embarrassed to see him: he has just been thinking about his brother and not all of it has been positive. Some of his uncertainty must show on his face, because Horus's grin falters a bit.
"See? I told you not to worry," he says and his grin returns with full force. "You look very pretty in your new armor."
"You're just jealous mine is nicer than yours," Fulgrim responds almost without thinking. Horus starts to chuckle and Fulgrim joins him.