Cyb3rAnge1

Trudging through exhaustion in the latest hours of the night was something all marines were used to after years upon years of endless war. But this was different- the three of them weren't heading to a fight, weren't heading to spill blood for their daemon father and the god they swore themselves to.

The path they were on leads them through the trees, opening to a well maintained clearing. In it, sits a house. It's big, with tall walls and a double door leading to the inside. There are other smaller buildings near it, all closed for the night it seems.

It's…quaint. Quiet. Not the kind of place you'd imagine anyone like them would linger.

The double doors open easily, not even locked, allowing them entrance to the house. The ceilings are just tall enough to contain a primarch, made with wood and stone. It's warm, and smells nice- like some kind of sweet spice. It's quiet here, too, all lights turned off save for a small one in a neatly organized kitchen.

A soft thumping catches their ears, and they turn in time to see a figure step off the stairs leading to the second floor. You look every bit like a woman who's just rolled out of bed, your hair a mess, eyes half closed while one hand tries to rub sleep out of them.

Guilt creeps through the three of them. Their legion mother slept very little, and here they were interrupting a rare moment of rest.

"Oh," You mumble. " 's just you guys."

"Sorry for waking you," The youngest says. You just shrug.

"It's fine. Take all that shit off and put it outside, then go find a bath. You reek."

They're quick to follow your orders, removing and dumping their armor into the grass outside. They argue over who got to use the shower first the whole time, with the eldest using his rank against the other two in order to win.

By the time they're all clean and in fresh civilian clothing kept here just for when they or their brothers visit, you've awoken fully, and the house was coming more to life.

Lights were on, and the resident Magos' servo skull was scuttling around the floors and across the wall, the man himself also having appeared at some point. He regards the three of them with tired annoyance, but leaves them be, vanishing down into the basement without speaking to any of them to return to whatever he'd been doing before they arrived. He'd likely only surfaced to investigate who exactly was here, just as you had.

The marines can hear others within the house somewhere, still sleeping or just avoiding them. You always had people here, your home was a respite for all who needed it, it was how their father had come across you in the first place, all those many many years ago.

In the time it took for them to get themselves together, you had made them something to eat and left it in the kitchen for them to scarf down like starved dogs. It wasn't anything fancy, but it was better than anything they'd eat anywhere else in this galaxy.

Full bellied, they're sent to locate an open bed and settle in.

The youngest lies on his chosen bed and stares up at the ceiling, finding it difficult to sleep. Visiting you always made him feel…strange. He was new to these trips still, so perhaps one day he would be as used to it as his brothers, but he's sure it will take quite a while.

This place was safety in a way he'd never really felt before. It was warm, inviting, filled with life and love. You always welcomed them, no matter who was in the group. Always fed them, made sure they bathed, and let them sleep for as long as they wanted. You took care of them, and dared to tell them it was easy.

Your only price, was an occasional message brought back to their father. The daemon primarch would hear them, but never send any kind of response. He can't anymore, not since his ascension into what he is now. It's a miracle he can even stand still long enough to hear the words they pass along at the behest of their treasured mother. Though, sometimes, Kharn will disappear for an extended amount of time. No one asks where he's gone, no one looks for him on the battlefield. They all know where he is, and they all know why.

Angron still loves his wife despite his current state, and sends his favored son to personally check in with her on his behalf.

The young marine tries not to be too loud as he trudges down the stairs from the second floor. He lingers in the hall, where dozens of pictures hung on the wall. All of their mother with people who have stayed here. People who became family to her.

There are several of his father in his human form. He looks at those the longest.

"What are you doing?" Your voice doesn't startle him, he jumped for absolutely no reason.

"Nothing," He says, turning to face you.

"Can't sleep?"

He hesitates.

"…no, I can't."

You hum, understanding.

"Come sit with me."

He nods, following you from the hall into the main living room. You sit on the massive sofa, and gesture for him to join you. He lays himself across the cushions, resting his head in your lap without a single question as to if it was okay. You chuckle and start running your hand through his hair.

He didn't have the Nails yet, but he likely would soon. You wouldn't be able to do this anymore once that happens, so he had to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Kharn had told him you was dead, when he first joined the legion. That was what he told all of them when they were still too new to know the truth. It was how he protected you from the undeserving, from those who would hunt you down and cause you harm. Only after marines proved themselves, could they be brought in front of their mother and receive your affection and care.

And oh how he treasured these moments with you.

You were soft, deeply kind despite the hell of the world around you. You kept your home open, and was always here to offer aid when someone needed it. You were- you were better than anything any of them deserved. Yet you loved them anyway. Loved their father despite the fact that he, in a way, betrayed you by turning to chaos and abandoning you.

It was no wonder many World Eater astartes would linger here for far longer than they should. Leaving you was hard- borderline impossible sometimes.

There was always a fear that this time is the last time. That one day, marines would arrive only to find the place empty, their mother long gone. Dead. And that thought alone had him wanting to throw up.

"Shh," You smooth your hand over his face, wiping the wetness from his eyes. "It's alright."

You never asked about why he cried when you held him. You never really needed to- he's certain you know the reason. He doubts he's the first, or only, marine to sob in your arms simply for the fact that your peace reminded them of parts of themselves they lost a long time ago. Of families, friends, and lovers they may have had before being recruited to the legion.