Chapter Text
Russ, as I described earlier, was particularly annoying. He followed me everywhere, claiming he'd won the Primarch Hunt and that I'd earned the right to be his wolf. This animal left dead animals on my doormat. It was unthinkable to admit to Father that this new brother was freaking me out, so I explained the situation to Melcador. This old wizard, after speaking to Russ himself, explained that Russ had feelings for me and that after the hazing, he'd realized I rightfully belonged to him as his girlfriend. I don't know what Father said to Leman afterward, but he stopped leaving animals or other strange objects on my doorstep. On my birthday, I found a beautiful bouquet of flowers on my doorstep, along with a note of apology from the Wolf King.
Father never mentioned this event; He neither forbade nor publicly encouraged it.
Fulgrim and Ferrus were found soon after. Fulgrim managed to trap Ferrus, binding them together forever.
Fulgrim's Gloriana was the worst ship I ever built. On at least one occasion, Fulgrim questioned every detail of the Emperor's Pride's plans. Luckily for him, I liked him, or I would have thrown something at his head.
Fulgrim was a good brother to everyone, and his diplomatic approach was very refreshing. I remember we often braided each other's hair or chose our outfits for one another. In those days, the Phoenician truly deserved his title of perfect brother: always listening, always concerned for the well-being of others, and never losing hope of seeing his legion become a powerful force.
The Emperor asked me to complete Ferrus's training, which I gladly did. However, being both solitary and taciturn except in the presence of others, we didn't learn much from each other, but a certain mutual respect existed. I know it was he who later conceived the idea of the arm. During his five years of training, he improved my power armor, and I improved his. Those five years aboard my flagship were rather peaceful. Ferrus had some run-ins with the cult, as they claimed that the Flesh prevented him from achieving perfection, while Ferrus maintained that the Flesh was humanity's greatest force. Unfortunately for him, his death would prove otherwise. The Iron Hands, after their primarch took command of the legion, were often called upon to assist me on various fronts. So, they may have occupied the same position as the Dusk Riders at that time, even though the two legions were radically different.
When Father called me a second time to train a Primarch, it was different; Mortarion and I had become much closer.
Mortarion stayed longer than Ferrus. I confess that he was the Primarch who touched me the most, on a human level. Sometimes, certain relationships don't need many words to be incredibly strong, and that was the case with my little brother, Morty. We had forged a strong bond, and at a certain point, I became his confidante, and he mine.
“Typhon, I don’t know why, but ever since he became an Astartes, he’s been avoiding me…”
“Some people have trouble accepting the Empire, maybe that’s all… or maybe it’s because he’s now under your command, whereas before he was your equal on Barbarus.”
“So, what am I supposed to do? Treat him differently from the others? You know very well what I think about rewards and favoritism.”
“Only a machine can be impartial, and Father doesn’t seem to want us to be, since we’re, after all, human. He himself shows favoritism.”
“I don’t want to be Father, or even be like him. He’s a tyrant who wants to subjugate everyone and obtain their obedience. He creates beings almost devoid of humanity, like you or the Custodes.”
“You ask your shroud to speak only in your presence. You don’t appreciate Typhon disobeying. If you truly want to avoid tyranny, give your legion more weight in decisions that concern it. Demand assemblies so it can vote for its captain or on laws passed in his name. However, don’t forget that the Astartes were created to blindly follow their fathers, even if they possess a little free will…”
“You’re right… An assembly will bring together the seven company captains, who will themselves be elected by their respective lieutenants upon the death of one of their number, to make decisions with me.”
Tertius Malvek then entered the room.
“My lords, we have intercepted a distress message. It originates from an Imperial planet located a few days away in space. Should we proceed there?”
Desolia was a densely populated hive planet. Its activity was relatively low along its major trade routes; its economy relied on the sale of various chemicals, particularly to neighboring agricultural planets. But when we received the first images, the hive cities had ceased emitting light at night, and thick purple clouds enveloped the planet.
I then entrusted the mission to Mortarion. It was his first long campaign without my supervision or that of my Father.
The report I read later was chilling. The planet was contaminated by various chemical agents. Only a portion of the population had taken refuge underground, and the gases had managed to seep in small quantities into the storage tanks. The surface was so toxic that Mortarion lost many of his Astartes there, including the first captain, whom I knew well. At the end of this grueling campaign, Mortarion asked the First Company to elect its new captain. Typhons put himself forward and became his second-in-command.
He then proposed that his captains vote on the fate of the planet, believing that its population had shown remarkable resilience in the face of the toxic gases. With all government destroyed, the planet was without a sovereign, and Mortarion offered to take it under his wing and protection. Besides the few surviving Earthlings from the legion and the growing number of barbarians, the Death Guard recruited on Desolia. The inhabitants of Desolia, due to the toxic fumes, had purplish skin, contrasting with the yellowish skin of the barbarians. The two peoples got along fairly well, and the new recruits were quickly integrated, leaving the Earthlings increasingly isolated and fewer in number.
The Empire expanded so much that I ended up knowing very few of my brothers, though I carefully studied every report that was given to me. Aside from the cordial letters I sent to introduce myself, Magnus was extremely curious about how I used my psychic powers. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for the future, we never had the opportunity to spend enough time together to truly learn from one another. Among the brothers I barely knew at that time were Lion el Johnson, the Khan, Vulkan, Rogal Dorn, and Roboute Guilliman. I corresponded extensively with the last three, however, no doubt because they had families and understood the meaning of that word far better than most. I also observed that Roboute and Lion were more effective than I was and had conquered far more planets—something that had never happened with other Primarchs.
But I eventually managed to put my jealousy aside.
Through the many conversations I had with more than half of them, I quickly realized I wasn't the only one who coveted our Father's recognition. Yet, none of my brothers involved me in their rivalry. They all considered me separate to their competition.
But the one who most desired recognition, even if he never expressed it directly to our brothers, was Perturabo. As with Mortarion and Ferrus, my father offered me to take him on as an apprentice. Perturabo was at least more ingenious than Ferrus, but far less resigned to the limitations of the flesh. He had never fought the Cult, had always considered himself a superior being created for command. I remember that several of my Magos appreciated his talent for architecture and archaeology.
After the Angron incident, the Emperor granted me sabbatical leave without explicitly stating when it should end. During this time, Perturabo assumed command of my fleet, despite my protests, replacing Malvek, my last husband, who was still alive thanks to his numerous augmentations. Throughout these years, I bombarded all my brothers with letters, demanding reports from the front lines as well as updates on their emotional and mental states.
During these years, the Emperor increasingly desired my presence at his side, particularly for the development of infrastructure necessary for the Empire's future, such as terraforming techniques and transport vessels. It was during this time that I would meet the man who would inspire my greatest fear.
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We were in a room reserved for the imperial family. Rogal and I were playing Regicide while Fulgrim was sprawled on top of Ferrus. Ferrus was playing with him, feeding him juicy grapes.
"Father wants us to go to the planet; one of our brothers is there." "Fulgrim said casually. Dorn reinforced his front line instead of heading toward the trap I was setting for him.
"Did he say the Legion?"
"Yes, the 8th…" Fulgrim began, but before he could finish his sentence, Ferrus silenced him with a grape. In a tone far too serious for the situation, Rogal replied:
"I hope he can save the 8th like Sanguinus did, because there's a lot to be done." I kicked him in the shin, but the primarch didn't flinch and reinforced his damned fortifications once more.
"Father made us all different; the Eighth is quite effective," I tempered.
Ferrus frowned.
"Yeah, I hope it won't be another monster like Angron."
"We're all monsters in every way." Human or xenos. Rogal, do you plan on changing your lines one of these days?
The Seventh chuckled. Fulgrim added casually:
“Father is perfect, and we are his creations. How dare you speak of us like that, my dear sister?”
“Father created us to wage war, and this war has been monstrous since the arrival of the Xenos.”
“I agree about the Primarchs, but tell me, why did he create you? Hmmm? Especially since we haven’t seen you on the battlefield for five years.” “Fulgrim mocked.
“I’m not sitting idly by either, Fulgrim.” I brought my queen to seduce Rogal and lure him out of his fortress.
“In any case, I’m sure he’ll be a wonderful person,” Fulgrim said.
Nostramo was the kind of planet that would never appear on anyone’s vacation list.
Father stepped forward, his presence dazzling the crowd. My three brothers stood beside me, but only Fulgrim charmed the assembly, his smile melting more than one Nostramian. Thanks to my keen eyesight, I heard several people wondering about my skin color, as well as Dorn’s. None of them seemed to understand the concept of tanned skin, which was hardly surprising given their lack of sunshine.
Our brother was seated on a black throne, but at the sight of the emperor, he suddenly stirred and asked to be… to join. I had seen many of my brothers react this way in visual recordings, but being there in person was something else entirely.
I couldn't make out his face clearly, but he had long black hair. Even from where I was, he smelled of carrion. He wore a black crown without sapphires, but adorned with eight very long points that reached towards the sky.
"My dear son, I am so happy to see you again, Conrad Curze." When the Emperor embraced her, she felt a change in the Warp. The Eighth murmured something to our Father, but I could neither hear nor understand what he said, or perhaps it was erased from my memory.
In accordance with tradition, we introduced ourselves in ascending order of our legions. My number was accepted as 0.
I then introduced myself to my new brother.
"Pleased to meet you, Conrad…" The Primarch stood up abruptly. My head snapped, grasping the metal wrist concealed beneath my glove. He tilted his head, clearly gripped by profound anguish. My heart raced, despite my best efforts to hide the intense fear this man inspired in me. His gesture was too reminiscent of Angron's, and the event was still too recent for me to forget.
"I don't want that name. I prefer Night Hunter, as I'm called." I nodded and very gently brought my hand to his shoulder. At its touch, he shuddered, staring blankly at me. He smiled, his sharp, pointed teeth chilling me to the bone for a long moment. "Enchanted Void Dragon."