~Conquest Begins~
~798. M30~
~Segmentum Ultima~
~Jedathra~
~Kassandra, The Eighth Primarch, Stormcloak in Training~
'You have eyes behind your eyes, and they are cracked open in fear. Poor child. Listen to my lullaby, be restful, be calm. You can rest here, for this is a safe place. No evils will reach you.'
Those were the last words she heard before falling into her first true sleep. Stomach full, eyes heavy, body washed and wrapped in warm linens. She was unable to resist the pull of sleep in the arms of the long-eared woman who held her. Her dreams did not foretell the miseries of the next day, only warm food and restful repose. Stares from her chubby-cheeked sister, a crown of feathers from a great beast, and the protective arms of her savior-brother.
They were very good dreams. She awoke the next day to a plate of fresh food being brought to her by the same long-eared woman that held her until she slept the day previous. She had sharp green eyes and long white hair, tied in a bun. Her name was Head Maid Miriel, she said, and Kassandra swore she wouldn't forget.
She looked at her and saw her dying on a bed, a smile on her face, white sheets stained red about her. It was a very gentle looking death. Kassandra preferred it over any she had seen before.
She let her eat her fill, then led Kassandra to her savior-brother, who spoke gently and offered his fingers for her to grip. She held on, and refused to let go until it was time to sleep again. She could not see how he died, she is very happy about this.
She met her sister, who looked about ferociously but never moved to harm. She brought Kassandra before the Dragons, and demanded feathers from their crests for her. She refused to look at Petra, so she would not have to see how she died.
She met Stormcloak Arshall, who taught her how to control her visions, and how to hold blades. He taught her what all kinds of weapons were, and what parts you should aim at to cut properly. She saw him ripped apart by screaming claws, a defiant roar on his face as he swung at it with a shining sword.
'You have eyes behind your eyes. They are cracked open. You must imagine them closed.'
And so she did, and the visions were gone unless she wanted them. And she cried for many hours that day. Miriel held her again and sang the lullaby.
She met Dragonlord Asarnil, who did amusing things like flick olives at her, so she could catch them in her mouth. Olives were not tasty, they were bitter, she still ate them. They were much better than deadmeat. She did not have to see how he died, so she did not.
She met Aurelia, who cried a lot for many months, so Kassandra allowed herself to be hugged, and hummed the lullaby that Miriel sang for her. She had been helped once, so she had to help in turn. Aurelia needed help. She did not have to see how she died, so she did not.
She met Morrigan, who was angry and suspicious. She had caused brother-savior to be hurt, and she was going to demand punishment. Then brother-savior forgave her, so Kassandra forgave her too. Now Morrigan helped her learn about cutting things, so Kassandra would let herself be hugged, and hummed the lullaby for her. Morrigan needed help too.
She did not have to see how she died, so she did not.
She had met many good people in the last four years. She had met no good people in the bad place. She would do everything she could to keep them safe and healthy. It was only fair.
"A warp storm is approaching this system. Can you feel it?" Arshal spoke in eldar-speak as they went through the gentle rhythms of combat. Stance, strike, stance, strike. She shook her head no, blocking another attack and attempting a counter. It was a war-dance, he called it. Both warriors performed their part in the dance, and kept their blades sharp by it.
Kassandra liked dancing. Her feet stepping on the ground. Her arms flowing into swings. Blades clashing with bell-like noises. Dancing was good.
"Open your ears, and listen to the low rumble, the low whistle. Can you hear it?"
She focused, blades clashing again and again as she did so, and her ears behind her ears strained to listen.
…A sound like blood pools lapping against stone walls, or foul-smelling cleaners washing against bodies. A rhythmic and gentle crash of liquid on barrier. And underneath that…
She fell into rhythm as the sound of a low, inevitable rumble filled her second ears. The clash of blades in an unexpected burst pulled her from that sound, and she nodded at Stormcloak Arshall.
"That means our foresight will be less predictable here. Once, it was filtered through goddess Lileath, but she is gone now. Now we must manage the false-colors of the unskilled painter."
"Who?" She asked, ducking beneath a swing in time with her part in the dance, and swinging back in turn. Arshall ducked in turn, as she was finally tall enough for that pattern in the dance to emerge.
"One of the four. The self-proclaimed Changer of Ways. Morai-Heg and Cegorach made it their business to make mockery of all his labors, for he deserves nothing less. He is the mockingbird that mutters at random, no conclusion drawn from the words he copies. He will attempt to interfere with your sight, especially when the Warp is strongly present."
She hummed in reply, a small trail of sweat dripping down her brow as the dance continued to accelerate in tempo. Clash, clash, clash, clash. She was not using her second-sight here, dancing was to keep the body firm and limber, using second-sight would turn the dance into something else, so it was avoided.
Hour three was the hardest part of the dance anyways. Stormcloak Arshall claimed it was the hardest to get used to, and that it took him many years. He was still sweating more than she was. She was stronger at this point, even if he was more practiced.
Arshall hummed in turn, focusing on the war-dance for another long period. The last minute of clashing required the most focus, so much that she could barely keep up.
Clash, clash, clash, dodge, clash, weave, clash, clash, clash, dodge, dodge…
Clash.
They pushed back from one another, and her mentor let out a long slow breath. She did the same, starting the cool-down period with much more basic and restrained dance-fighting. This was just to prevent a cramp of the muscles, movement that did not strain the muscles, but kept them loose.
"We shall have to change your weaponry." Arshall spoke suddenly.
She hummed in questioning. He continued.
"Your arms keep twitching to use both limbs. Your instinctive response is still one of clawing and swiping. You're more suited for a pair of shorter blades than a single standard length weapon." He did not sound angry at this, and yet according to his words she had wasted much of his time learning an nonoptimal fighting style. This was unbalanced, she would learn twice as fast to make up for this.
"I see." She replied, moving through the motions and feeling muscles slowly unstrain with the movement. Movement felt good.
"Worry not. I think you'll take to it well. Now for the next part of the lesson. Cast your sight to the world below, tell me what you see your lord-brother doing." He backed away, allowing her to continue the movements without distraction.
She opened the eyes behind her eyes, and focused her thoughts on an image. An image was important, Arshall had taught her, required to focus one's gaze upon a subject. It was why her cracked-open eyes foresaw those she looked upon with first eyes, because of the image.
It was that image that she cast her sight upon, and the world below was how restrained she let her gaze be. A halo of gentle-gold was there, in a sea of greens and blues and reds. She focused her gaze further upon it, and confirmed that it was her brother.
Then she looked upon it, and let her eyes wander forwards, or maybe beyond. It was an angle she couldn't describe except in the uncertain descriptor of 'further away'. Arshall had called it the white-road, a thing that stretched on forever, even if you couldn't see it clearly.
It was the future, she knew. Something that would happen later, unless something was changed. Arshall had made sure she knew that quickly, reassured by her brother, and any other Eldar she spoke to. Common wisdom, they called it.
"Visions are never reliable. There are many things within the wheel we cannot see on the white-road, and these things will alter outcomes they come into contact with. Our second sight can only be an advisor, and never a king, for it often lies."
She looked to the future her brother walked upon, and began to speak it aloud.
"He will fall from the ship at a great height, cracking stone with his landing. He will stride to the keep, announcing his intentions while ignoring the presence of the warriors brandishing swords at him. He will open the gates on his own, and march into the halls of their queen. They have banners with a frilled serpent upon it. Their colors are green and gold."
She furrowed her brows, tasting the sight. "He will announce his name and intention. The woman on the throne will demand a test of brother's mettle, a duel against their mightiest warrior, who pilots a knight. The queen will be surprised when brother declares he will fight the knight on foot, for he needs no war machine."
"The duel will be hosted within an hour. The champion is their executioner, she pilots a tall machine with a flame-weapon and a chainblade. Brother will defeat her in three minutes, topping her machine and carving the woman out of her seat. The queen will insist on more duels."
She frowned, that was unfair. "Brother will defeat a dozen knights before the knights-dames turn on their queen. Brother will intervene, and have her spared. She will bow and offer her crown, and he will refuse it. They will discuss terms for the rest of the night."
She frowned harder at what she saw next. "She will garb herself in thin silks, and attempt to brush against him many times. He will ignore her touch. He will return to the ship several hours after dinner."
"Good, now return to the face of the second knight-dame your brother defeats. What does she look like?"
She hummed, and returned her sight to that moment. "Green eyes and red hair."
Arshall hummed himself, a tune she didn't recognize, and timed out several long moments before speaking again. "Now go through the vision again."
She did so, reciting it throughout just like before. It was all the same from what she could tell…
No. There was something off, but she couldn't distinguish what at the moment.
"Check the face of the second woman again."
She did so. "...Blue eyes and red hair." A frown grew on her face as she realized that didn't correlate with her previous vision.
"This is the result of the coming storm. It is weak now, but soon it will engulf this system and make visions quite unreliable. A webway-gate will likely be constructed here the following morning, to ensure travel between this place and Charnac, a means of ensuring loyalty and continued communication."
She stared at the woman on the throne. "The queen is unjust. She should be discarded."
Arshall laughed. She frowned, she wasn't intending on making a joke.
—
She was pretending to sleep. Petra was insistent upon it. Kassandra noted that she specified 'in bed' and not 'asleep' however, giving her a window to act within. Her sight was active, taking note of the steps her brother was taking, quietly frowning at the woman he was trying to talk to. She was attempting to manipulate him, it was unjust.
He called an end to the meeting after finishing an outline of his plans for the world. She smiled as the queen hid a small frown behind her hand and brother stepped away, ducking through the tiny doors to the outside.
He raised his sword once in the courtyard again, and made it burn. The warriors around him flinched and exclaimed. He stepped through the webway gate that appeared before him, and onto the floor of the hangar. He gave a large sigh and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration, nodding to the eldar who were present and readying for tomorrow.
Opening her first-eyes, she took stock of the room. The others were asleep. Aurelia snored with that large feline-creature curled up on her chest. Petra grumbled and chewed on her pillow. Morrigan was completely still aside from light, shallow breaths.
Kassandra slowly extracted herself, stepping with only her toes at first, and muffling her movement with the thinner silks she pretended to prefer sleeping under. Her weight settling on the floor, she moved her weight onto three limbs at a time, and rolled the points of contact as she moved.
She was the best at creeping around, she's had lots of practice.
Moving forwards, she slowly muffled the door handle with the silks and opened it, slipping out of the doorway and into the hall under a cloak of bedsheets. She closed the door shut again, and she was free. Petra would be upset if she found out, so it was best to not let Petra find out.
She turned and froze, seeing the narrow green eyes in the darkness. Miriel carrying a stack of papers and ink, staring at her from the intersection at the end of the hall.
…Miriel's ears flicked forwards, an invitation to approach. Kassandra slowly creeped forwards until she was next to Miriel.
"Going to see your brother?" Miriel whispered a question, not revealing her thoughts on the matter. Kassandra nodded, and Miriel's ears flickered in thought for a moment. Her eyes glanced upwards, and then back down to Kassandra.
"Only for a little while, then you must return to slumber, understand? Your brother has work to do."
Kassandra nodded quickly in acceptance, pulling the bedsheet around her as she moved up to be practically flush with the head maid, who nodded promptly and began to walk forwards again. The two of them walked through mostly empty and quiet halls, a comfortable silence between the two.
Eventually, they reached her brother's room, and Miriel knocked on the door.
"Come in." Her brother answered from within. Opening the door for Miriel, Kassandra slipped through first and closed the door behind the maid. Turning she saw brother rubbing his temple in frustration, papers and fresh ink set before him.
She stayed still as he spoke. "Thank you Miriel. I suspect I shall have to change my strategy for getting the Dam Herpetrax to listen. She's quite the social climber."
"Someone is here to see you, Honored One." Miriel returned, ear flickering over to her. Brother blinked looking up at the maid before looking over at her. Kassandra slunk up quickly, climbing upon his legs and settling into a hug.
He huffed in amusement. "You're getting much too big for this Kassandra. Soon you'll be as tall as me, and this will be very inconvenient."
She hummed a denial. He kept speaking. "I asked Petra to make sure you all got to bed. I suppose you ignored the implication of going to sleep until I returned."
She hummed an agreement. He sighed permissively, reaching up to hug her for a moment, before turning to Miriel to continue speaking. As he did so, he reached past her for his quill and ink, starting to scratch out notes on the table and speak his thoughts aloud to the maid, who occasionally offered feedback in low, soft voices.
Kassandra finally let herself go to sleep. This was a good place.