This is a Cain novel, and one of the characteristics that makes Cain Cain throughout his entire life is his complete inability to believe that he is something special, combined with the luck that means that incredibly special things happen to him all the time.

The Emperor doesn't talk these days. The only time you hear him talk is either fanfic or offscreen experiences like roboute thinking about their 'conversation.' So it would be really special if he did…

Then the two crack-fic plot twists I would put in would be as follows: Cain refuses to believe what just happened, hard enough that we, the readers, start to think he's right and that Slaanesh is screwing with him…then cut to 'meanwhile in the warp, slaanesh tell's the Emperor 'toldja he wouldn't beleive you.'

It might go a little like this…

Fire. Pain. It was like that pain earlier, but… lesser. Fires of golden energy tore through the place. It felt like I was being burned in fire… but it stopped. The pain stopped. I looked, and my jaw dropped, as did my knees.

The Emperor had arrived. He looked to be as if He had never sustained His wounds- glowing like He was out of a Holy text. The light still stung, but my tears were ones of joy. (4)

"A Daemon calling for me to take the wrongfully damned…" The Emperor whispered. I fell prostrate, unwilling to look the Master of Mankind in the eyes with my shameful damnation.

"Merciful Emperor… this damned servant wishes you to save those who can be saved," I whimpered. "Take them from me. I do not want the souls of the Righteous to suffer as I have."

"Rise, Daemon. Let me look at you," The Emperor ordered. I sprang to attention, snapping a salute, tears still in my eyes. The Emperor's Eyes narrowed. "That Whore…" He hissed, eyes glowing with rage. "But the Warp… it is peaceful here. More peaceful than I have ever felt," He mused. "What happened?"

I hastily explained what I had done- how I had bargains for the safety of the world. It took a few moments, but The Emperor's angered features began to soften. By the end, when I mentioned the pain, He laughed. It was a deep, booming laughter.

"You never gave in!" He roared, laughing with pure glee. "You were knocked unconscious before you could! By default, you never gave in!" His booming laughter lifted all of our spirits. "I'll take those two," He promised me. They vanished in wisps of gold.

"Emperor… please… purify me…" I begged.

The Emperor paused. I awaited the fires. Instead, they never came.

"My time is running out. But know this: I gave you a gift. A gift to exorcize you, but I see that is no longer the case." His eyes glowed bright. "Now, it will contain you."

"C-contain?"

"I cannot save your soul without starting a great war that would distract from the Astronomicon. I am sorry, Ciaphas, but I cannot abandon My duties for one man (5)."

"You… you know my name…"

"Of course I do," The Emperor replied. His gaze hardened. "You have been damned by no fault of your own… but you can still be of use to Me. Wear the Gift I gave you, and you will remain almost human. Remove it, and your True Nature will be unleashed. I give you this chance on account of you letting those two go. I hope this wasn't a mistake." With that, He shimmered away, and I collapsed to the ground. I blinked, and I was back in the Salamander, Jurgen holding my head above the metal

The Emperor told me everything I wanted to hear- everything I had fantasized about in my secretive little soul.

It felt amazing. I felt redeemed.

And it was all groxshit.

"What happened, Sir?" Jurgen asked.

"The frakking warp God of rampaging desire thought would be funny to cosplay as the Emperor and tell me what I wanted to hear." I snarled before I could think the better of it. I should have just kept mum and played along like I believed Slaanesh prancing around in golden armor was the real thing. "Thank you for chasing it away, Jurgen." I said, welcoming his reek.

"Heretics." Jurgen spat. "They ain't so tough."

It was obvious what had brought me around- Jurgen's halitosis was better than smelling salts, and his faith in the Emperor was as powerful and unquestioning as his body odor, the sort of faith I'd seen priests use to exorcize demons when the geller fields went on the Fritz. He was rank enough to drive even the lying shade of the Emperor away, and I was grateful.

"Heretics indeed," I said. I was alive for now. It was best to let Slaanesh think it had fooled me. Jollying along superiors of dubious sanity, overwhelming power, and deadly goals had been my allotted job ever since the schola progenium, and if there's one thing my long, discreditable career had taught me, it was the benifits of lying like a carpet in order to increase my odds of living to the next moment. In the meantime, I'd simply have to get used to sticking far closer to Jurgen than I usually did- he made everyone uncomfortable, up to and including gods, and the great benefit to me was that I would tolerate any amount of discomfort in my lifelong ambition of ducking and covering and not getting my arse killed.

I tucked the Aquila safely in an inside pocket, to deal with when I wasn't being driven hell for leather by Jurgen out of a warp incursion. It would serve me well to pretend that I actually gave a frak about a so-called 'talisman' that was obviously just an aquilla nicked from among the fancy medallions and embroidery adorning the lapels of on my greatcoat. I'd eat my hat if it had anything more than a bit of unsettling power to make me feel beholden, and I would play the part of leashed dog for as long as it took to find an escape.

The thing about leashes is they only work when a dog doesn't know how to unhook himself at will.

—

She Who Thirsts was in hysterics. Slaanesh did everything to excess, and laughter was no exception. Especially when granted an opportunity to mock the Anathema.

"He'll be miiiine!" She roared through monsterous guffaws. "The only human who can hear you- the only human who will EVER be able to hear you- and he doesn't believe you. He never has! He's started down the path to me! You gave him everything he ever dreamed of and he refused you because he thinks you're meeee! One day he'll let go of that eagle, and he'll be miiiiiiine!"

The Anathema did not speak. The golden being on the golden throne never did. Not for thousands of years. Not to anyone- anyone, that is, except the one human being so terrified of losing his soul that he barred anyone from ever coming inside it. A being immune to the warp not because he was without a soul, but because his only dream, is only ambition, was hanging on to it at any cost. A being whose inner ear was far enough away,buried under enough layers of armor, that the emperor's vast will, his massive shriek of unending terror at what would become of the galaxy if he let go was muted into an intelligible, audible voice.

The Emperor had granted Ciaphas great gifts before. They never lasted long. He doubted She-who-thirsts gift of demonhood would last longer than it took Cain to decide his nightmares had gotten quite bad enough, thank you, and it was time to wake up and have Jurgen brew a fresh cup of Tanna. He might end up with slightly sharper fingernails, or a slightly bigger jaw. But that would be all.

it has happened to the Emperor hundreds of times before, after all. All that remained of him in Cain was an itching of palms and a clenching of the bowels.

He looked forward to watching it happen to one of the Tumors. Then His laughter would shake the heavens. Cain really was one of his favorite little jokes.