From now on, there will be three advance chapters are up on my P-atreon: p-atreon /SkySage24
The instant they were back on Terra, the Emperor's presence pressed down on her like the gravity of a star, as Isha struggled not to keel over.
You are to remain confined to your chambers until I say otherwise. He told her, his anger resonating around her once more, making the walls of his fortress tremble.
He summoned the old, heavy, shackles that she had worn in her earliest days on Terra, pulling them from thin air and forcing them upon her wrists.
Isha struggled to breathe as the shackles acted like a bear trap, clamping onto her wrists and digging into her very essence.
But the Emperor was not done yet. His power flowed around them, solidifying and strengthening the wards around her rooms until Isha was almost entirely helpless, the stifling heat of his wards and the pressure of the shackles leaving her hardly better than a mortal.
All your privileges are revoked. He said, her collection of plants bursting into golden flames, leaving behind nothing but dust and ashes.
Do not test me again.
With those words, the Emperor departed with a crack of thunder, leaving Isha on the floor of her chambers, fresh chains wrapped around her as she struggled to move.
Betrayal.
It was something the Emperor was all too familiar with. How many times had he been betrayed across the centuries? How many friends and allies had turned against him, becoming enemies he had to strike down?
After the Cybernetic Revolt, he had sworn he would never allow himself to suffer such a thing again.
And yet, he had.
How had he allowed a xeno warp-construct to break past his defenses? How had he allowed himself to be so weak and foolish again?
He wasn't even sure how he could get rid of her. She had made herself utterly critical to his empire, a pillar even more important than Malcador, perhaps. Utterly irreplaceable.
He could not remove her influence and contributions without crippling the Imperium entirely.
Damn her.
Damn himself for being such a fool.
Fresh precautions would have to be taken. Everything had to be revised.
Malcador. Valdor. Attend me.
An hour later, the Emperor sat in the chair of his study, Malcador and Valdor standing opposite him.
Valdor was stoic and imperturbable as always, but the gears of his mind were already turning, grinding like the finely honed machine he had been forged into as he considered this new information. Malcador, however, had his hand tightly clenched around his staff, eyes blazing with fury.
"She betrayed us," Malcador whispered furiously. "We should have known."
"Indeed," The Emperor said, steepling his fingers. "I want a permanent cadre of Anathema Psykana and Custodes guarding her chambers. She is not to leave without my express permission and presence. And we must begin measures to reduce our reliance on her. Luna must be conquered as swiftly as possible."
"I will begin drawing up plans for the conquest of Luna, my lord," Valdor nodded curtly. "It will take some time to assemble the forces needed for such an assault, however."
"I have every faith in you, Valdor," The Emperor responded. "We must also accelerate work on the Silver Knights project. It must be completed as soon as possible. And I will be conducting a fresh review of all of Isha's work with Astarte, from top to bottom."
Valdor nodded, even as Malcador leaned forward. "We should dispose of Isha immediately," The Sigillite said, a cold gleam in his eyes. "It will be costly, yes, but we cannot trust her."
The Emperor shook his head. "Not yet. The Imperium must be weaned off her influence, first, then I will consider it. Furthermore, there may be more information I can extract from her with Iyanden as a bargaining chip."
"No," Malcador disagreed. "It's too risky. We should kill her immediately, and purge Iyanden. Having a xeno warp-construct on Terra was folly, and so is having a Craftworld so close to Sol. We can make use of the vessel and its technology, but we should not allow Isha or her children to live."
"I understand your rage, my friend, but we should not let our rage provoke us to recklessness." The Emperor told him quietly, looking out the window at the sky, far clearer and bluer than it should have been. "Not being careful enough is what led us to this folly in the first place. In any case, Isha imparted several gifts upon her children that would make any assault on them costly indeed, which might include further contingencies that would make it difficult even for me to purge Iyanden."
"And you let her do this?" Malcador demanded, astonished and incredulous. "Why?"
"I…" The Emperor opened his mouth. I do not believe she will do anything to endanger her children or her agreement with me, was the response that immediately came to mind, but that wasn't true was it? Isha had done something in violation of their agreement.
"I wished to see what she was capable of,-" The Emperor said instead. "-where she would be willing to exert herself more, instead of being as cautious as she has been here."
Malcador's expression made clear he didn't believe the Emperor for one second. "We do not need such demonstrations. You should simply tear her mind apart for all her knowledge and dispose of her."
Something inside the Emperor recoiled at the idea, even though he had threatened Isha and Iyanden mere hours ago.
"I do not think that would be wise," He found himself saying. "We must take a careful, measured response to this."
"I am being careful and measured in my response," Malcador argued, his voice annoyingly calm. "When you agreed to grant Isha refuge, we discussed what would happen to her if she betrayed us, and she has now betrayed us. I do not see why we need to alter our plans now that we know she disobeyed your orders."
"Things have changed. When Isha first came, we were not as reliant on her as we are now. Letting her become so important to the Imperium was a mistake, but we must deal with the consequences of it nevertheless." The Emperor retorted, his irritation spiking at Malcador's words.
Malcador regarded him with narrowed eyes, saying nothing for a long moment, but his thoughts and his heart were as clear to the Emperor as ever.
"When I said you should exploit her soft-heartedness, I did not mean you should let her melt your own heart like butter."
Malcador did not voice these words, but the Emperor heard them nevertheless.
"I have done no such thing!" The Lord of Terra roared, rising to his feet. Valdor was startled, for once in his life genuinely surprised at the Emperor's sudden outburst.
But Malcador was uncowed. He was a veteran of the Iron Wars, a warlord of the Age of Strife, and perhaps the finest student the Emperor ever had. He was not easily shaken.
"You have," He said softly. "You…you still trust her, don't you? That's why you don't want to kill her, why you let her strengthen Iyanden's defenses."
For once, the Emperor found himself at a loss for words. There were a thousand and one responses he could have given to that.
But none of them would be true, would they? A voice whispered in the back of his mind.
In the end, there was only one response he could give.
Do not forget your place, Malcador. His voice boomed like thunder, searing his intent into the Sigillite's soul. I tolerate a great deal from you, for you are my friend, but I am still your Emperor.
Malcador fell to his knees, beads of sweat dripping down his face, clearly struggling to breathe under the weight of the Emperor's fury as even Valdor took a step back.
Do not question me, and do not dare to think of disobeying me.
Without waiting for a response, the Emperor vanished in a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder.
He reappeared inside his private labs, still fuming.
The Lord of Terra knew he should return to his campaign, to end it as swiftly as possible, but he needed to regain control of his temper.
Why had he responded to Malcador's advice with such anger? The Sigillite had said nothing that the Emperor would not have said himself if their positions were reversed. One of the many reasons Malcador was his closest advisor was because the man was willing to offer honest criticism and advice to him.
And yet. His words had stoked a rage in the Emperor's heart and had made him lash out at his oldest living friend.
Why?
The Emperor shook his head. He could mull over this later. Right now, he needed to focus on calming himself so that he could return to complete his campaign.
Frightening his forces with his current mood would break morale and leave them disoriented and disorganized, and more than that, he did not wish to scare Horus.
Just as Isha did not want you to scare her children? The voice in the back of his mind whispered, but the Emperor ruthlessly quelled that thought.
It wasn't the same at all. He was not violating any agreement he had made with Isha.
Except…he had promised Isha that he would not harm any of the Eldar if they approached Sol, as long as they did not strike first.
But he hadn't harmed them. Threatened, yes, but not harmed.
Yet, would he have accepted the same argument if their positions were reversed, if Isha had been the one cowing the human world into submission with her power?
The Emperor scowled to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. It didn't help in any real way, he did not even have a headache, but it was a lingering habit from his youth when he had lived as ordinary men and women over and over again.
Why was he suddenly plagued by doubt? Was Malcador right? Had he let Isha influence his judgment?
…he was softer than he had been twenty years ago, there was no doubt about it. The Order Hospitaller, his handling of Iyanden, Horus.
He would have handled all those things far differently only a short time ago. It had not even been a blink of an eye, relatively speaking, since he would have crushed Iyanden without a second thought.
But was he truly wrong to handle things the way he was doing now? The people of the Imperium were happy, Terra was healing, and his relationship with his son was steadily deepening.
No, there were benefits to his approach that could not be denied.
But still. Was he just letting Isha manipulate him, instead of manipulating her as he had intended?
He didn't know the answer to the question, and that disturbed him more than anything.
A lie to oneself is still a lie. That little voice in the back of his mind said again.
Shaking his head, the Emperor pushed all those thoughts aside. What was done was done. He needed to calm himself, and then he needed to return to finish the campaign.
And working on one of his projects was always soothing, a reminder of better days when he could be a scientist and not a warlord.
Looking around the lab for something to do, the Emperor's eyes landed on the pile of discarded crystals, his failed attempts at making dreamstones.
It wasn't exactly the sort of soothing distraction he needed, but the sooner he could make it work, the sooner the Imperium would be free of Isha's influence.
Focusing upon his desire to protect humanity and ensure it could grow safely, to make it safe and independent from Chaos and xenos alike, the Emperor began to speak the melody that Isha had taught him, letting his emotions flow into the song, and the energy of the Warp began to crystallize in front of him.
But to his frustration, he immediately noticed the flaws in the crystal. It was even more of a failure than usual, marred by black streaks, his rage and bitterness bleeding into it.
Growling, the Emperor stopped the melody, scowling as he snatched the crystal out of the air. It hummed with anger, his anger, in the palm of his hand. It was more likely to kill any ordinary psyker that held it than to help them.
Disgusted, he ripped apart its atoms.
What was he doing wrong? Why did this come so easily to Isha, and not to him?
It is too impersonal. Isha's words sprang to mind. The dreamstones are forged from equal parts love and conviction.
Pinching the bridge of his nose again, the Emperor exhaled. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and centered himself.
Another old habit he had never truly shaken off.
Love. What did he love? Not the Imperium, not humanity, not memories of old friends dead and gone. None of those had worked.
…Horus. He loved Horus. He loved and cherished his son, and wished to see him prosper.
Opening his eyes, the Emperor took another deep breath, and then began to sing.
The melody that sprang from his lips wasn't a famous song. It wasn't meticulously composed and crafted, almost crude in comparison to the elegance of the work of the great musicians.
It was just a soft lullaby, one that he had sung to his own children lifetimes ago to put them to sleep, when he had still been just a mortal, ignorant of his true power and nature.
Yet somehow, the chant was more resonant, deeper, and more powerful than last time as he thought of Horus, and his hopes and dreams for his child. Of how happy he had been to find Horus, of apologizing to him, of taking him out on that excursion into the city. The smile and shining joy on his son's face, the feeling of his hair under the Emperor's hand.
The memory of Horus as an infant, looking up curiously at the Emperor from his cradle, tiny hands reaching out and grabbing in the air. The memory of all the other Primarchs, his sons, in the same room, sleeping peacefully.
The memory of the fear and rage that had consumed his heart when the Four stole his children.
The melody echoed in the lab, and the Immaterium, and the Daemons fled from it, even more so than they usually did from his presence.
And in front of him, a glowing golden crystal began to materialize, slowly rotating and forming, inch by painstaking inch.
The process took nearly an hour, but at last, a gently golden crystal hovered in front of the Emperor as he finished the lullaby.
Reaching out with one hand, he plucked it from the air, feeling it hum softly in his palm, forming a shield around him. One he did not need, but it would do the same for any human who held it.
He had done it, at last. The Emperor blinked, raising his other hand to his face as he realized it was wet with tears, ones that he had not even noticed as he created the dreamstone.
He understood now, the Emperor admitted to himself. He understood how Isha made those dreamstones, and the emotions that went into them. He understood her feelings towards her children, and why she had sent them that message.
He would have done the same in her place, he had just not wanted to admit it.
Isha had broken their agreement, but she had not done so out of malice, nor had she truly done him any harm.
He truly understood her better now than he ever had before.
The only question was, what was he going to do about it?
If any of you like Marvel or ASOIAF, please do consider checking out my newest crossover story between the two franchises: Iron, Forged in Fire, which you can find on my profile.
Summary: Antony Stark was a genius, a visionary. Blending sorcery and science, he devised inventions that shook the foundations of Westeros and changed the world forever. But will it be a better world that he builds? Only time will tell...
And for anyone interested, here's an invite code to my Discord server: WPv4FGsF