Chapter Three
"Let us sing then and let us sing together,
Of golden palaces and forests of winter gossamer.
Where weapons crack amid powers of Lightning and Thunder,
The Emperor of Mankind and the Hands of the World's Potter,"
-Snape Snivellus Severus, Royal Minstrel, Great Crusade
…..
"Beautiful isn't it?" the things that non-magicals can do even without the use of magic is something that always has astounded Helaena, or Morgana as she prefers to be called now ever since the fall of the Magical World.
"I agree," she replies to her large companion. John Newman has been her constant now after she found him wandering in the ruins of her previous school. The large man has been investigating about the rumors of the secret war against magicals when she found him.
Suffice it to say when she tries to curse him, she got the beating of a lifetime. The man wields magic like one would wield nature. Primal, uncouth, controlled and extremely powerful like a giant sledgehammer aimed at a tiny chink of an armor. She thought then she would meet her death, instead she gets a companion. John is what he calls himself, a perpetual, an immortal that walks the Earth ever since the times when men wear kilts made of animal skin, hunting with stones and sticks. She is the Mistress of Death, cursed never to die until the stars fall from the heavens. They make an unlikely pair.
It totally surprises her when John offered that they be a pair, and not in the way of marriage, companions, a friend, a partner to keep each other in check and prevent them from going mad as they walk through the tunnels of time. She has agreed, and for good reason. The knowledge alone that she would outlive the ones she love, the Weasleys, sweet Teddy and Victoire, Fleur, her best friend (thank Merlin they survived the Purge) it is too much.
She has not regretted her decision since then. John is talkative, extremely talkative. Apparently she underestimated the lack of companionship of the man for he is like a quenched man who found water in their relationship. He would pester her non-stop with his ideas and thoughts, always trying his damnest to glean a reaction or a reply from her. The man is skilled, too skilled in nearly all aspects of life, from nuggets of wisdom to change to view how life works, towards things that would advance the human race. It is honestly quite a blur for her. In a way she is thankful, she has been trying to crawl under her own shell of self-depression with the disappearance of the magical world.
In a way she's glad John runs along with her. With him around, it is never boring. She also gets to be at the forefront of every upgrade and evolution of technology of mankind like this first Commercial Trip to the International Space Station.
Maybe it won't be so bad learning things like Muggles would do?
…..
Macragge, Ultramar
Atop the Fortress Monastery of Macragge rests the personal quarters of the Lord of Ultramar. It is originally designed as the personal residence of the one who is currently ruling the planet. However ever since Gulliman's internship on the stasis field, the succeeding Chapter Masters of the Ultramarines have refused point blank on settling down on it. Insteady they made sure that everything remains pristine and the same as it is when their beloved Primarch left them in the hopes that he would return and not see the place a shamble.
Now said place has been given to her, The Empress as they are starting to call her. Frankly it irritates the hell out of Helaena. She has damned desire to lead from the very top. She does not share this dream of grandeur that John has when she first lets him drag her along in his idea of uniting the different warlords of men at Terra after the Dark Age of Technology. She does not have his talent of organizing stuff and managing them, that's his talent, not hers.
Still back to the present right now. Roubutte Gulliman has offered his personal quarters to her after she got him out of his funk of depression. Scratch that, he insists on it, not willing to let his mother get away to somewhere where he couldn't find her in a moment's notice. Apparently her favorite son has absolutely zero desire to have his companions be simply: Me, Myself and I again after the loss of their father and his brothers. Thus she acquiesced to his desires to stay in this room, though room would be an understatement since the bloody place is at least the size of three Hogwarts Feasting Hall pieced together with every pleasure and grandeur that Ultramar has to offer from multiple beds that are feather soft to comfy pillows that might have cost more than the Eiffel Tower each. Nearly everything is gold, gold, gold that if not for the fact that she is used to John in his golden bling armor, she might have vomited from it in every corner or design. The only rest to her poor eyes thankfully is the aquamarine blue that the system of Macragge incorporates for everything. It is a rest to her poor eyes. Outside the room are the entirety of the Ultramarines First Company with the strictest of instructions that under no circumstances would anyone disturb her unless its extremely urgent like a planet invasion or personal messages from the Primarch himself. Their father insists on it which brings her up to her next point.
Word of her presence has spread far and wide all over the system. At first it many are thankful and glad that a Saint has appeared to them in these troubled times. However when Gulliman (the idiot who simply refused to adhere to her wishes) starts calling her mother in public, that is when the shit show started. Everyone suffices it to say are gobsmacked and confused at first with even the more radical believing that the Primach must have knocked his head hard somewhere. However after a lot of arguments (that resulted to dozens dead) among the Imperial Forces and Citizenry, many cannot deny that she MIGHT be indeed the mother of a Primarch. Word of her abilities and how she crushed the Chaos Forces with ease is something that thousands have seen for their own eyes. Even more is said Chaos Forcrs are a lot of something that even the best of the Adeptus Astartes would have trouble dealing with without a lot of backup.
Now they're calling her "Empress" much to her chagrin and also the reason why she is here being interred.
To say the least Gulliman is worried for her. Barely anyone knows about the Eternal Companion of the Emperor with the records lost amid time. With the Emperor vindicated as a god, the one beside him always there to provide advice and keeps him in check has been lost into the tomes of history. Apparently the Emperor can do no wrong and thus doesn't need someone to be there for him.
"Not that he listens to every advice I give," she thought murderously remembering Angron. The poor young man has been afflicted with the Nails and Helaena can do it, she can heal him but the Emperor for some inane reason via Divination, decrees that she let it be. When she refuses, he literally has to use a Word of Power to bind her and her actions much to her grief. That is one of their few major fights which results to John literally having to regrow his own balls after she melts it off in revenge.
Back to the present however, she is here for her own good and for her protection (not that she needs any but Gulliman would not stand down and would not be convinced that not a hair of her head should fall without him knowing the cause). In a way Helaena agrees with him but not because of his issues of her safety, no. It's rather more to protect the citizens against her.
This is not the Imperium that she left which is formed by reason, logic and proof. No, this Imperium is one of superstition, fanaticism and might she say it, faith to their god Emperor AKA John. This is an Imperium whom her son worries would not accept her due to the divinity pedestal they placed John in. Thus as he smoothed things over and takes control of Macragge's army, populace and resources in order to wipe clean the entire sector of the Chaos incursions, Helaena is stuck here at least until things become quiet enough that she can talk to her son again.
Yet she does not simply here twiddling her thumbs doing nothing, oh no. Instead she has a mountain of data slates placed in an organized manner by "allowed" adepts, courtesy of Belisarius Cawl who has fallen to his face every time he sees her, shouting with all his might that the one Blessed by the Omnissiah is here. These data slates contain the history of the Imperium (at least those that are recorded and correctly verified) alongside the different institutions that now rule and command it. If she plans to go out there in the galaxy and find a new direction, she would need to know where the pause button has been pressed by John before. Also she needs to know the fate of her sons.
To say that she's been unhappy would be an understatement of the Century.
The Imperium is not the shining beacon of Mankind that the Emperor plans it to be. Instead it is a destitute and dying Empire ruled in a feudalistic manner by lords who are ninety percent of the time would put their self-interests before the greater good. Daemons are real and present every now and then, Mutation is prevalent and Death is everywhere. Even now she can feel the miasma of death clinging to everything and despite being the Mistress of Death and almost immune to it, it almost makes her sick. Death is a constant companion for everyone in this galaxy. In this grim galaxy it seems life is cheap and horrible. Desperate sacrifices can be seen everywhere and carnage and great battles with rivers of blood are seen as small princes to pay. The agents of hostile aliens and the Dark gods of Chaos are everywhere and Mankind is reacting rather than being proactive despite the large armies marshaled in its name.
This brings her attention the political powers that she knows she must interact with in this new galaxy she is about to enter. Once more she mentally curses John for being interred and not being able to interact with them anymore. She hates him for putting her in this position (and icing her), but at the same time she pities his current deathless state, unable to truly die, unable to truly live, forced to survive for a nightmare that is his dream. He does her wrong and he is not perfect but part of Helaena loves John. It just can't be avoided after millenia of years living and traveling together through tears and joy.
She would see him, she must see him before she plans to do anything else. She needs to personally feel the mind of her companion and see what remains, or if it is still him inside that husk of a skeleton that is his body. Death has not claimed him, that she is sure but she doubts the Emperor would be the same after being in that state and absorbing prayers and thousands of souls each day. More than anyone she knows how much power thoughts and actions are at the Immaterium. Slaanesh after all is proof of that. Would his friend be the same after being prayed at for ten thousand years?
The sound of a door opening snaps Helaena's thoughts off as a haggard and weary looking Roubutte Gulliman marches in. He has donned off his armor and is wearing a simple large shirt and pants. His blonde hair as usual is pristine though looking a bit disheveled and his eyes are supporting eyebags.
"Mother, my deepest apologies for not attending to you sooner," he bows in respect making the lips of Helaena curl from the recliner she's leaning in. Leave it to Roubutte to be polite as ever.
"No need for your apologies my son. You have a system to save and now I can assume that we can all come out and breathe fresh air with Chaos on the run?" she says making the tired looking Primarch snort at her words erasing many care lines in his serious face.
"We have driven off the forces of the Despoiler away from the entirety of the system and I have stabilized the relief efforts coming from nearby systems to the damaged infrastructures and systems of many systems. Come in a couple of weeks, the System of Ultramar would be on the road to recovery as strong as it was before the Chaos incursion,"
"Impressive Roubutte. Four months only and you have driven off an entire invasion. I am impressed. You did good," Helaena honestly admits. Leave it to Roubutte to micro manage a problem that would have taken months and an entire campaign that might end up for years in four months only.
As it is the Primarch preened under the praise and she mentally winces. She has forgotten how attention starved of their parents the twenty are. Time to pull this conversation out from work however and to something productive and relaxing at the same time anywhow.
"Come Roubutte, have a seat at the dining table and I cooked some beef stew for you," she leads to the giant table which is of course golden in color. "My apologies if my culinary skills are not as pristine as it used to be,"
She doesn't need to add the last thing however. The Primarch half-runs as he jogs to the table before greedily eating the stew from the bowl of again…gold before moaning loudly in pleasure.
"I've missed your meals mother," he sighs contently after swallowing, a sad expression marring his face. "You always try to bring us all to the dining table whenever as much as possible. When you disappeared, we….missed it and regretted the times we said no to your many invitations. It was different when you are gone,"
A soft smile attaches itself to Helaena's face. The twenty was her children and when the Emperor reclaimed them all, all of them try to outo each other to gain the attention of their parents. Helaena gave hers freely that even poor Angron can find rest in her presence. It must have been horrible for them to suddenly know that she disappeared. In fact she wonders how many have turned to Chaos out of anger at the Emperor for her disappearance.
"I am here now my son and I am truly sorry for disappearing," she says placing a hand on the large shoulder of Gulliman in comfort.
"Why did you leave mother? Why did you disappear on us?" the cracked voice of his son makes Helaena sigh as she tightens her fingers on his shoulder before leaving to sit at the side of the table at his left.
"It is not by my will I left my son. When I first heard that Horus has rebelled against the Emperor, my immediate action is to try and stop him before he can go even deeper and bring him back to his senses. Your father disagreed with my actions, reasoning out that Horus is not the son I know anymore but something else. He's scared that the Forces of Chaos might corrupt me also. We argued and I decided to leave by my own volition on my own personal ship. Your Father in his eternal wisdom decided to…sabotage my ship and dropped it somewhere above Macragge's orbit with full stealth emissions. With me in cryo, the ship systems remain stabilized and going waiting for someone to wake me. I believe your Father plans to personally wake me once he's dealt with Horus. He never expects that he would be beaten to a pulp by your elder brother and interred in the Golden Throne. Thus ten thousand years passed which leads to all of this and here I am,"
Roubutte is silent for a minute(which usually is almost long for a Primarch),before answering as he wipes the dribble of beef from the side of his lips.
"Horus was my brother, but what he became. That's no brother of mine. I am glad that Father did not allow you to go," he says making Helaena blink.
"Excuse me?" feeling her anger rising up a notch. Did he just agree with what John did to her?
"I said I am glad that Father didn't let you go Mom. If you had been in any way killed, or worse corrupted by Chaos, we would not know what we, your sons would have done. Father probably thought the same and it would be unbearable for all of us. Losing Horus to Chaos hurt Father in ways I did not imagine, but losing you would probably destroy him,"
"I-I see," Helaena simply admits mentally wincing. If she loses John, would she react the same way? She doesn't know.
"Either way I am glad you are here Mother. It would have been incredibly lonely if I found out that I am the only one that remains of our family, father in his current state not counted,"
"So am I Roubutte, so am I,"
The next few minutes are spent in reminiscing and recalling good memories of the good old days during the Great Crusade. While for Gulliman it is a lot more years after the internment of the Emperor and trying to keep the Imperium afloat as one by one his brothers are lost. For Helaena, it seems like it is just a few years before when she argues that Horus be named as Warmaster. Horus before he fell is probably the most well-adjusted of his brothers and is a diplomat at heart. She has lost count of the many times did that boy quell arguments between his hot-tempred siblings.
"So mother, what do you plan to do now?" asks Gulliman finishing the last of his beef stew daintily cleaning his mouth with a napkin. "I know I am obliged to repair or at least maintain this Imperium that father has built," he winces. "Though it hurts seeing everything that I sacrificed more coming up quite the very opposite of what we are fighting for before then,"
"Yet it is the only one we got and with great power comes great responsibility," finishes Helaena for him. "The Imperium is in shambles and more than anything right now especially with this warp rift cutting it in two, it needs guidance Roubutte, guidance that can only come from a gifted organizer and administrator,"
"I know Mother, I know," his shoulders sag. "I just….I am just one Primarch and I don't have my brothers with me or father for that matter. Last time I tried doing it alone, I ended up in that accursed Stasis Field,"
"That is why I am here with you. You know I would always stand by with you though I admit I am not as gifted as organization as you are. Besides Gulliman, a true leader is not one who stands alone but one who surrounds himself with advisors that can offer him different roads that he might choose from. That is why we need to journey to Terra, the two of us,"
"To Terra? Why?"
"What you need right now Gulliman is advice on your next course of action. This problem with the Imperium is too big for mortal minds to handle. You need an answer that can surpass mortal intelligence and what better source of advise than to ask that of a god? I plan to speak to your father anyway for I need some answers and some highly expected retribution coming his way. Ten thousand years in ice, he forgot what it means when he crosses me!"
"You won't kill him will you mother?"asks Roubute Gulliman worriedly as the usually demure look of his mother turns predatory like a wolf salivating in anticipation of biting its prey.
"Maybe I'll just take a chunk here and there,"
"Mother!"
"Fine, just a little bit of a hand,"
"MOTHER!"
"Alright! Alright! Just a kick in the balls,"
"That's even worse,"
Gods she missed their banters.
…..
Two Days Later
Marneus Calgar is NOT in anyway happy. Every bit of his being protests against this course of action but his Primarch and the Empress has already made their decision. Things have been hectic the past two days. After their Primarch retreated to his personal quarters after non-stop command for four months straight with few rests in between, he has come out the next day declaring that he intended to travel to Terra to commune with the Emperor alongside the Empress.
Calgar at first of course has been overjoyed at the news. This is the moment that many Imperials are dreaming of when the Primarch would rise and return to commune with the Emperor himself and bring back the old glories of the Great Crusade with him. Better, at his side is a being that (he believes) as strong as the Primarch himself. Already the Ultramarines owes her an eternal debt for making sure that their Primarch is awake and NOT entombed within his armor like a dreadnaught. He almost shot Belisarius Cawl when he learned what the cogboys original plan for his Primarch would be. Of course at that time he is just happy that the Primach would be awake.
Even then his mind is already preparing what resources to divert, ships to call, systems to contribute, a crusade that would be the honor guard and accompany their Primarch on the long stretch to Terra. Imagine his surprise when the Empress laughs and tells him that it would not be needed. Instead she would bring them to Terra via Warp or Teleport as she calls it.
If not for the fact that she is the mother of their Primarch and Companion to the Emperor, she would have been shot point blank. As it is, he is overruled by his Primarch agreeing full-heartedly with nary a worry of any mishap, trusting wholeheartedly everything to the beautiful black-haired woman who until now he notices walks barefoot.
If Space Marines could cry, he would have.
They are delayed however for the next two days since finally the other institutions of the Imperiu start showing up to verify that indeed the Lady Helaena or rather Empress Helaena is who she say she is, the Companion of the Emperor of Mankind.
Just as his lord father predicted.
Four years before, his lord father does not simply focus his entire time putting the system back in order while collectively kicking Chaos' where the sun doesn't shine till they're nothing more than debris in space, no. Instead he also instructed the scribes of Ultramar to scour every bit of history throughout the system about records of the lady Morgana as she was known before, the Emperor's Companion. Ultramar after all suffered the least ever since the Emperor fell to Horus. Their records are more ordered compared to a thousand other systems, hidden behind piles of paperwork and data.
Now four years of work are accomplished all ready and prepared. From the personal memoirs of Gulliman and the Emperor during the time of the Great Crusade to personal notes made by Morgana or other officials and servants that bear witness to her presence and credibility to be alive back then and present also. It is all to convince the major organizations of the Imperium that she is indeed who she is as their representatives start barging into Macragge.
Frankly it went easier than expected despite the unsaid worries of their Primarch.
The Ecclesiarchy is probably the easiest to convince about her words, in fact they are totally convinced that she is divine with the Grand Cardinal declaring her a deity in flesh after she releases her suppressed aura just a little bit. He has all but crawled on the floor alongside his retinue as he keeps shouting and singing hymns in the name of the Emperor giving thanks for his "Empress" that now stands. He is quick to give out the order with his own name stamped on the official document made by Gulliman with his own seal as witness and true.
The Astra Militarum alongside the Imperial Navy represented by General Fornax has little to no issue about the truth of her words. Recorded vids of her presence in the battlefield, her power and her defiant charge against daemons that would have driven men mad with ease is more than enough proof for them of her divinity. Also there is the fact that they are of course obscenely happy that a Primarch is already walking and alive. A loyal Primarch to boot who claims that the woman is his mother.
The Tech Priests of course needs no more convincing. Belisarius Cawl personally vouches for her telling everyone that might ask in a completely jittery way as if still unbelieving that he has witnessed her many times standing side by side with the Emperor when he's just a tech-adept so very long ago. He happily adds his name on the document made by Gulliman as a major witness.
The Inquisition, the last organization of course is a bit trickier. They sent two Inquisitors to investigate and that is the Inquisitors Lilith Abfequarn of the Order Hereticus and Jax Stanesharps of the Ordo Malleus. The former is easy to convince with the truth via the documents prepared beforehand and the supporting word of the Primarch and the rest of the organizations. The latter is not. He demands (quite loudly) that the "Empress" be tested fully for any taint of Chaos. Suffice it to say that he is nothing more than a stain on the floor. Gulliman in any way would not agree any kind of damage to his mother, not while he's breathing.
Now here they are two days later, ready to "Warp" back to Terra much to the fears of Calgar. The document of proof has been published and sent to every corner of the Imperium that it can reach already about their new hope. People could use hope in this troubled times, on that he can agree.
"I will see you later my son. Make sure that the work continues while I am gone alright," commands Gulliman making Calgar smile with a nod though he's got a feeling that his grin is more like a grimace.
With a nod at his mother, Calgar witnesses his Primarch sucked in into what seems to be a tube mid-air in a powerful CRACK! One moment they are there, one moment they are gone.
He fervently prayed to the Emperor that they not end up in some kind of daemon infested world somewhere.
…..
Terra, Imperial Palace, Inner Sanctum
Three Hundred, that is the number of the Adeptus Custodes that stands guard always at the Sanctum Imperialis, the place where the Golden Throne can be found and the Corpse of the God Emperor of Mankind remain in its deathless state. The Three Hundred is always in rotation with their brothers in arms but they always remain the same number, an eternal guard, never faltering, never failing in their duties. It is both their pride and shame. Pride in the sense that they are the ones charged in defending their master and shame for their failure to protect him against Horus during the Final battle of the Heresy.
For Ten Thousand years across the aegis of time, they remain on their duty making sure that the last remnant of their master not come to harm. No enemy foul or pure has been able to come into this holy sanctum, and very few Imperial Servants are even allowed on it. The Tech Priests assigned to repair the slowly breaking mechanisms of the Golden-Throne are highly regulated and at least two Custodes are present on each priest, standing guard over them like Shadwos as they work below the Golden Throne's shadow.
The Custodes are content in their strength and their vigilance to their master for ten thousand years. That is why they never expect a sudden CRACK! To sound like a gong right in the middle of the hall. Immediatley Three Hundred Guardian Spears are ready and pointed at the two people that appear out of thin air. With a click, the Guardian spears fired for a few seconds before everyone halts as Trajann Valoris shouts without warning.
"HOLD YOUR GUNS! STOP! THAT IS THE COMPANION YOU ARE FIRING AT!" he screams with panic. It is only a split second but he recognizes all too well the ethereal beauty that he is extremely familiar with ten thousand years ago. It is the same person that the Emperor as so clearly orders before: "Guard her with your life. Don't let her die without you do first,"
The firing stops to a grinding halt as every member of the three hundred realizes what they are doing and to Valoris runs forward pushing aside brothers of his Order fearing what he might see through the smoke. Already he can feel the shackles of another bout of shame to his service to his master. He has seen across the centuries along with his brothers how deeply the Emperor treasure his Companion. Unlike them or even the Primarchs, she is not made by him but chose to stay with him, an eternal Partner. Married they would be if much more simpler terms, but they have transcended the limits of the word for they are connected to each other in ways that they, the Custodes cannot even fathom. That's why he feels so much shame. If the Emperor's Companion is dead due to them, their master would never forgive them, and he doesn't expect him to do so.
"Good shooting Custodians, I am pleased that you are as vigilant as ever in defending the Emperor of Mankind!" nearly falling to his face alongside with every other Custodes as the smoke clears showing the Lady Morgana and a full and hale Primarch Roubutte Gulliman with her (who looks deeply murderous at them). Her left hand is raised to a fist with only a pinky in attention. Around her, the bullets from their Guardian Spears remain suspended mid-air, a feat that only she can do with how strong her magic is.
"MY LADY MORGANA! LORD PRIMARCH! I AM TRULY SORRY FOR REACTING THE WAY WE DID!"he half shouts, half sobs in joy. The Custodes might live here in Terra in seclusion for their charge, but they listen to news of the outside world. Now with the Companion fully awake and with the Primarch of the Ultramarines with her, for the first time in Ten Thousand Years, he can see it, a hope for Mankind.
"It is Helaena now for this Millenium Commander. Morgana died when your master entombed me inside my own ship. I believe that you are aware of that commander?" she asks, eyes narrowing.
"My lady I have no excuse-,"
"ENOUGH!" her voice shakes the Sanctum Imperialis making Trajann close his jaw with an audible snap. "I believe that the Emperor expects my return, or rather plan for it else all of you would be shooting at me right now even being who I am?"
"Yes my lady, he left standing orders in the event that he should fail agains Horus, the Custodians would obey you and guard you in the same manner we would for him. He puts great emphasis on it actually my lady," reports Valoris still with his face on the ground.
"As I expected from him," sighs the woman rubbing her head with her free hand before letting her pinky down and the bullets all to clatter on the floor. "Go clean this up and send someone to inform the High Lords of Terra about my return. Make sure they listen and give them my primary Identification codes alongside the seal of the Emperor. Tell them the Companion has returned and have come to take audience with the Emperor of Mankind about the future of the Imperium,"
"It will be done my lady," Trajann Valoris replies standing up immediately and barking for five of the three hundred to follow the instructions of the Lady. They are almost running as for the first time in ten thousand years, they finally have a Master or a Mistress to follow.
"Come Roubutte, let us speak with your father," she finally says walking past the golden sentries towards the golden steps of the Golden Throne.
…..
The Golden Throne
Gulliman can't help the morose feeling as he stares at the withered husk that is his father. Last time he has seen him, he at least has a body. Now all that is left is a withering cadaver, horrendous and vile to look upon. Bones bleached white can be seen below the skin and torn muscle, courtesy of Horus' weapons, the hollow eye sockets which is more skull than flesh seem to bore on him like the weight of a million planets.
He is in the hall of corpse king, a dusty court of bones and death. He is before his father, the so-called glorious Emperor of the millennia. A touch at his hand makes him turn to his mother who smiles at him in confidence silently reminding him that he is not alone and of the support that it is granting him. He smiles back, squeezing gently those beautiful hands of hers before taking a deep breathe as he kneels at the foot of the withered husk.
"Father," he says, feeling the attention of the man so near death but yet so far turn to him. He can't seem to recall the last time he uses the word. "Father, I am home," Gulliman forces himself to look up at this horrifying visage of a man the empety-eyed skulls of the silent god, the First man, the Savior of humankind.
"The Imperium needs guidance. I-I don't know what to do. Tell me father, tell me how to save them," he begs the rotting corpse. He averts his eyes for he cannot stare long at the Emperor of Mankind. Too powerful, too much and too bright. It is like staring at a sun. The power that of the being before him overwhelms him to his soul. A thousand different replies, all correct all wrong, unsure and final seems to transfer to his mind like a bridge.
His father, this withered husk seems to be his father and at the same time it is not. A caricature of darkness and light, a being of life and death.
"Father, not father, Emperor," and he endures the connection, the awful terrible connection that almost rips his mind as it turns fully its attention to him.
"Son," it says.
"Lord of Ultramar,"
"My greatest hope,"
"My greatest failure,
"Primarch,"
"Thirteenth,"
"Enigma,"
"Tool,"
"Savior,"
"Failure"
"FAILURE!
"FAILURE!"
"My Son, Roubutte Gulliman,"
He flinches as all of these comes crashing into his psyche. He does not hear it. At all. The Emperor says, and at the same remains silent. Words seems to hold no meaning for every thought, every consciousness transferring is pure, raw, natural like the very being of the universe unwrapped at every world. It seems to be an insult to be given an adage of measurement.
"Roubutte Gulliman," the being of power once more speaks like a thunder and like the calming wind, a dying sun and yet a born star. "My son, my son, my son,"
The name echoes downward and upward through the threads of time. It never stops, it never fails like the tides that beat down unto the shore The sensation of a looming thunderstorm, the strength of a billion minds connects to Gulliman nearly making him cross-eyed as he is smothered with it. It make the effort to communicate but one mind guides all, raw power, giving wordless commands and shouts of anger that he saves what they have built, what they have created. At the same time it shouts in a double edged voice, to destroy and to warp all, to wipe the slate clean. To find his lost brothers, to kill them for their disappointments. To be human and at the same time to be more. They are all polar oppsites contradicting each other like fire and water, light and darkness.
Futures slam into his psyche like a terrible wave. Things that are, things that were, things that are yet to happen and cannot, and things that would happen but should not. The results of these things not shown, but at the same time being seen. It is maddening! MADDENING!
"Father!" he cries out in his confusion as his own thoughts turn against him.
"A child,"
"A son,"
"My son,"
"Never a son,"
"Just a Tool,"
"Name,"
"Never a name,"
"Just a number,"
"Just a project,"
"My project,"
"My son,"
A great hope in ruins, a dream unrealized, too much information and details course through Gulliman's mind. A universe, beautiful stars and galaxies, different facets of humanity older than any records of the Imperium can tell about. Things too beautiful beyond measure and things to terrible to behold. It all erodes his mind like an earthquake would for a continent, fracturing it.
"Father, Father, please!" he begs the being whose thoughts seem to wander.
"Father? Never a father,"
"Thing,"
"Secret,"
"Reborn"
"Apotheosis,"
"Plan,"
"Life,"
"Death"
"Victory,"
"Defeat"
"Decay!"
"Decay!"
"Renewal,"
"Guidance,"
Then as if some great will seems to bear down on the jagged fragments of thoughts, it pulls together like a man would with a fishing line pulling it in one massive jumble. It seems a finality but at the same time it's not. It seems like a melting iceberg, strong but slowly fading under the sun. A sense of ending and tired. In the background he can hear the souns of machines whining and screeching, breaking….so close to collapse and the screams of the dying psykers that are being sacrificed, all for the sake of a bloated Imperium ready to fall.
"Gulliman,, the voice is almost familiar but overlaid, overlapped, so close to being one yet so far. Gulliman has a fleeting memory of a proud but regal face with chocolate brown eyes smiling at him.
"My son hear me,"
"My last son, my joy, my greatest project and pride,"
It tears him inside, tears him worse than the poisons that once pervaded his system, worse than the hopelessness of despair. They are not a lie, not fully for it is worse than that. They are responsibility, one that he would never be able to escape from. They are his freedom and his chains.
"My son,"
"My last work,"
"My last hope,"
A final drawing in of power like an inflating balloon. Thoughts go out like a man would in his final breath.
"Gulliman, my son,"
"Protect your mother,"
…
The Golden Throne
As her son walks away wordlessly in a trance, she steps forward ignoring the eyes of every Custodes that seems to drill a hole at her. She walks the golden steps and does not stop at the foot but walks till she is looking down at the sitting corpse that is her Companion.
A thousand emotions flash through her mind in a second. She does not know what she would expect to see her, not this, not this monstrosity of a man who seems to be more dead than alive. Last time she finds him sitting here is him adjusting the tidbits on the chair with joking smile as she asks him what he would do if he got stuck on it, unable to leave.
"The joke became a reality," she thinks wryly looking at the cadaver that is her strength and pillar through the ages. All sorts of anger she has on him disappears as a single tear drops from her eyes, falling on the silent lap.
She raises a hand to touch the withered rotting skull ignoring the nausea as the skin seems to cling to her fingers.
"John, I am home," she says simply.
It seems like a mountain ripping itself off the ground to throw itself on the sea as a connection is made quickly. She grimaces as more tears fell from her eyes. Immortal agony rips through her brain as it is focused on by the being who is more now than a man. Sorrow, joy, belief, disbelief, bitterness, sorrow, so much sorrow that it almost overwhelms him.
"I am sorry," the voice that enters her mind is almost mind numbing, almost crying.
"Glad,"
"Wife,"
"Friend,"
"Partner,"
"Idiotic,"
"Stupid,"
"Naïve,"
"Friend,"
"Companion,"
She laughs loudly, the hall of the Sanctum Imperialis for the first time hearing laughter like tinkering bells in the noonday sun. She pities, she pities this man and how she hates him for what he did, for doing the same to her as that old man who tried to set her up as a pig for slaughter. Yet she loves him, for he truly believes that what he did is to make her safe and he would do it all over again.
"You're sweet but I hate you for it. Ten Thousand years John, you owe me Ten Thousand years of being flash frozen. Now look at what you've become, I told you, I told you long ago that involving yourself in humanity would come to regret it,"
"Sadness,"
"Despair,"
"A dream broken,"
"You're Right,"
"Humanity,"
"Worth it,"
"Worth it,"
"Favor,"
"FAVOR!"
"FAVOR!"
"After what you did, you have the gall to ask me a favor? Only you John," she replies ignoring everyone in the Hall which is slowly filling with High Lords, Grand Admirals and even a few High Inquisitors of the Inquisitorium coming to see what the sudden ruckus would be.
She can feel it, the mind interweaving with each other like pulling itself together again in one great effort like continents moving with each other.
"Morgana,"
"Helaena!" She cuts off making the immense pressure pause. She's got a sudden vision of his friend giving off an infuriated sigh.
"Helaena, my companion, my heart, " she smiles sadly at the compliments even as her hand remains connected to his rotting face.
John has always been generous of his compliments with her even before she asks him to make her beautiful. He personally becomes the surgeon that perfected her face. Ten years, it took him ten years to research how he would make her the most beautiful woman alive. Twenty to make sure that it would not kill her and degrade. She would be his greatest achievement in beauty, his perfect companion, his perfect project, his perfect reward. She lets him then for she is vain.
His words are not responsibility given to her but one of a request from her companion throughout the long ages of the Earth. She can say no if she wants to, but she knows that she cannot do it, in his pitiable state, she would never be able to say no to him and he knows it. The clever bastard.
"My love,"
"My greatest trophy,"
"My Empress,
"Into your hands I give my Imperium!" It is half a shout and more a surrender before the great looming power of that of a thundercloud disperses leaving nothing again but a withered husk stuck in undeath, suffering silently for the Imperium of Man's continuation.
As Helaena arose, she wills to herself a golden crown with a thousand gems on it blazing with inner fire and a Phoenix Rising holding a burning ruby before turning to the crowd who is now kneeling at her as she descends from the Golden Throne. The last words of the Emperor have reached them all and they now all have their faces in the ground except for Gulliman who is simply kneeling in reverence.
"Hail the Empress of Mankind! Hail the Inheritor of the Throne of Man! Hail the Empress of the Stars who would lead us all to Salvation!" the Ecclesiarch shouts with all his might.
"HAIL!"
….
Omake:
"FAVOR!"
"After what you did, you have the gall to ask me a favor? Only you John," she replies ignoring everyone in the Hall which is slowly filling with High Lords, Grand Admirals and even a few High Inquisitors of the Inquisitorium coming to see what the sudden ruckus would be. Then without warning!
SLAP! A thunderous Slap turns the Emperor's head three sixty before an upward kick at the balls pops the skull off the cadaver with her catching it in mid-air grinning like a wolf.
"BURN! YOU DAMNED ASSHOLE! YOU LEFT ME FOR TEN THOUSAND YEARS IN ICE!" she cackles loudly even as the skull turns to ash.
Is it really a surprise that the time of ending for Mankind comes a little bit way too early after that?"
….
Another Omake:
"Hey did someone see Kitten around?" the familiar voice of the new Empress asks out making the Custodes march warily to Helaena nervously. The rest of the visitors have already left with only the three hundred remaining Custodes standing guard in silence.
"My Empress, to what do I owe you of this attention again?" Kitten asks in no small amount of nervousness. The Empress in the old days is even more eccentric than the Emperor of Mankind.
"Now that we all got that rif-raf out. Why don't you all stop being serious and such with those shiny armors of yours, all of you," she barks out to the three hundred.
For a second, the Custodes do not move, the next moment they are bouncing out of their golden armor wearing loincloths and basked in Oil over there muscled bodies. (Insert Fabulous Custodes Theme Song! AYAYAYAYAY!"
"Erm..erm….erm! My glorious overlord! To what do we owe the pleasure of your blasting command!" the lead Fabulous Custodes huskily asks to the now naked Empress who has vanished clothes.
"A full body makeover, oh and to see you all drum kittens…magnificent rear and tap those chest muscles of his like bongos," she purrs at the now horror stricken banana,"
"My lady! My Empress! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" his piercing screams can be heard as his fellow Custodes dogpiles him.
…
Author's Note:
Wew! 8k WORDS IS TIRING.
Okay so that's it. First of all don't bash me if you didn't like the direction of the story. I am kind of winging it after reading all the Reviews. Now ive also read in Wikipedia about the Terran Crusade and I promptly chose to skip it.
Before anyone goes nutty angry at Helaena's power, remember that she's near and on par with the Emperor before his internment on the Golden Throne. Plus she has the entirety and knowledge of Wizardkind with her. Apparition is well within her venue and trust me, she HAS been on Earth many times. Sure it takes power but she has power in spades. I believe it is more realistic that she takes the safer and easier shortcut instead of doing it the slow dangerous way via ships and warp.
Now that we got Big E's overly dramatic issues over. Let's go with fixing the Rift Issue and the Era Indomitus.
Generals and Inquisitors. We are kinda stuck at this side of the Imperium. What should be our top priorities right now and how would we do it? I will need your opinions before I start pushing next chapter. We will secure the Imperium as best as we can then we go Primarch Hunting both the bad and the good.
Primaris Marines and Clone Legions will be deployed. So please officers of the Imperium, help this creative writer out and let us save the Imperium of Man.
Time to let your creativity also out.