Author: Enthalpy
{oOo}
Horus strode into the throne room with trepidation in his heart. The Emperor had officially summoned him. The Emperor never summoned anyone except to reprimand them. What had he done wrong? Had he failed in some way? How had he displeased his father.
To his surprise, the Emperor stood from his throne and met him half way. "Now, son," he said. "I know I haven't been the best father I could be. But, let me say now that I will not judge you on your choices. They are yours to make, and yours only..." As his father continued on with his speech, Horus listened in rapt attention, although, internally, he became more and more confused by the moment.
What was his father, the God Emperor of Mankind speaking of, concerning choices and judgment?
"...and, if you find that you wish to pursue this matter further, you may, perhaps, find the works of the ancient playwright Sophocles to be of some interest."
After the Emperor dismissed him, Horus left. Only after he had returned to the relative safety of his chambers did he remember the sheaf of papers which his father had clutched in his hand. The only person who would ever print text in those lurid shades was his sister, Serenity. Come to think of it, he remembered Magnus' scream of horror, and had heard Lorgar's mutterings concerning some sort of unholy abomination.
The next time he met Magnus, he asked him if he knew anything concerning those innocuous papers, only to see the one-eyed Primarch run away as fast as he could. Confused as ever, Horus returned to his duties as Warmaster of the Imperium.
{oOo}