The Fifth time he wakes, he outright ignores the instinctual panic and whispers of impossibility that accompany awakening in this half-life and concentrates on defying the Stasis Chamber long enough to force himself fully awake.
It's far easier this time, and he takes in the sight before him with wide eyes. His halls are filled with Ultramarines. For one brief instant, he is absurdly grateful that his decision to split the legions hasn't resulted in disaster.
Despite it all, his sons still endure.
Then the sound of a funeral dirge reaches his ears and he notices how his hall has been draped in black. Realizes that despite the perfect, unmoving attention his sons stand at he cannot see a single set of armor that is not damaged in some way, large cracks, and the pockmarks of bolt shells marring the sea of blue ceremite. The men wearing the armor are in little better condition. Most are wounded, and even those who are unscathed bear the look of men who have seen horrors that men were not made to see.
War has come. He knows, almost by instinct, that the new war that Theil foretold has come and his sons fare badly in it.
He watches as a chaplain, standing between him and the bier, loudly proclaims the heroic deeds of a warrior who "fought from Ultramar to Terra at the Primarch's side, and who finally fell in a glorious battle against the Enemies of Humanity."
He wonders offhandedly if he knew the marine whom they mourn, but he knows he didn't, Theil had said that he was the last. That he…he...
The Chaplain moves from between the stasis chamber and the bier, revealing the man upon it, and though he knows to expect it, seeing the body somehow makes it worse. Aeonid Theil is dead, his friend is gone.
He wishes the darkness would take him, save him from the terrible sight, but it fails to appear.
This is his fault, if he hadn't split the legions, if he hadn't blunted the teeth and broken the back of the Imperial War Machine, Theil might have lived.
"Return to Macragge, Aeonid Theil, Son of Guilliman," the Chaplain solemnly intones, beginning the ancient funeral rite. He finds himself listening despite himself; the familiar words a strange comfort in his grief.
"Walk the Gardens of Locastra. Climb Gallan's Rock, and know that, like the rebel consul himself, all traitors are punished. We shall be that instrument of punishment here and like the rock, we shall remain unmoved and unbroken."
So it was treachery that ended his friend's life. Betrayal at the hands of someone Theil trusted implicitly. The Chaplain would not have invoked the cursed name of Macragge's greatest traitor for anything less.
Another son, another brother, has turned his back on the Imperium's ideals and cemented his fall from grace with the blood of a man who trusted him.
His adopted father, Konnor, and the rebel consul, Gallan. His brothers, Ferrus and Fulgrim, Horus and Sangunious. His sons, Theil and the unknown traitor.
History is repeating itself.
He won't let it. He's lost enough family.
The bastard who killed Theil had better find some hole to cower in because there is nowhere in the galaxy that they can hide. Son of his or not, he's going to hunt that rat down and-
No, no he isn't. He can't. The Stasis Field.
Rage boils up behind his eyes, as the paralyzing field stops his struggles as if they were nothing, stifling the screams that build in his mind. How dare this thing, this hunk of metal and ancient technology defy him? How dare it prevent justice from being served? Hold him back from exacting vengeance for his friend's, his son's death? How dare it prevent him from giving vent to the fury that rips through him? Stop him from obliterating all in his path until he can has the traitor's skull in his hands and he can crush the bastard in a spray of blood for the bloo-
"No." The words echo in his mind, a blaze of golden radiance, all at once perfectly familiar and utterly alien. "You are not the Slave Lord of the Red Sands. You will not repeat his failures."
His rage vanishes like a puff of smoke, leaving behind only empty grief and the harsh realization of what his loss of control almost cost him, cost the Imperium. How close he came to following his brothers. Throne of Terra, what was that?
"You understand then?" the voice observes; it isn't a question. "How close you came to the abyss? Control yourself, Lord of Ultramar. I cannot afford to lose another of you to the Ruinous Powers. Guard yourself, My Son. For there shall be more trials to come, but you must never submit. Our Imperium yet has need of you."
"Father, did I-?" He begins to think, but before he can even formulate the rest of the question the golden glow is gone and he is alone with his grief and the knowledge of what he almost fell prey to.
He wrenches his mind away from what he almost did, concentrating on his sons and their observances. He owes that much and more to Theil.
"Find peace in the plunging falls of Hera's Crown and watch the sunset over the fortress of our father," The Chaplain intones, "Your fight is over, Chapter Master. The Primarch has asked all he can of you. Wait there, about the temple's halls and monuments- for one day we must all follow where you lead."
He wonders if he can. He hopes he can. Prays he can meet his brothers, his sons, his Mother, his Father, and all those he has lost, wherever it is that humanity goes when they die. He doubts he will.
The Chaplain finishes the ceremony, and the service ends in respectful silence. The Ultramarines filter quietly out of the hall, leaving him alone with the body and his grief. Time passes, the shadows thicken, and still he sits wondering at the empty unfairness of the galaxy.
As the dawn breaks, the darkness returns and he lets it pull him under into blank thoughtlessness with something akin to relief. At least the darkness gives him respite from the galaxy's cruelty.
Some Ultramarines will wonder at the fury in their Primarch's eyes; others at the guilt and the grief. The Librarians will puzzle at the palpable sense of rage that for a few terrible moments emanates from their Lord's stasis chamber, only to be abruptly replaced by horror and revulsion. Most will scoff at the whispers, dismiss the sight as nothing more than a trick of the light or their brothers' overactive imaginations. All will wonder, and the whispers will run.
Author's Notes:
First off, Huge Thanks to everyone who's commented/followed/faved. You're all amazing.
Second off, To those of those of you wondering if Stasis will be an AU... I'm not sure. At the moment I'm trying to write scenes that could have happened, but either didn't or were never shown. I imagine there is room for an AU there and as this story progresses it might become a full AU, but for now, it's up to your interpretation whether or not Stasis is following canon.
Thirdly, Please try to keep in mind that I'm still very much a novice when it comes to writing, so any constructive criticism/critique is welcome (and let's be honest, desperately needed). Please don't be shy. I need all the help I can get!
Last but certainly not least, a massive thanks to my wonderful beta Spooky-Cadet!