Mx._f1shz

Boasting cheers, hands clapping, people throwing praises for every small step he was making.

Horus has returned.

A Warmaster has been crown.

He had won and he had everything he needed.

Well, not quite yet.

Ullanor had took him from you, his beloved, for quite sometime and hebwas sure of many things and one was that he needed to finally hold you in his arms, feelnyour warmth...and your voice begging him to go slower.

His breath became heavier by just the though of you, waiting patiently in your cage room, waiting for your captor lover to return and claim his spoils. He could already picturing you, begging and wet under him, your body showing how much you needed him even in your refusal. Of course, after all this months, he was sure that you had missed him and his presence in your shared bed, he thought while playing with the key of the chastity belt he had made Perturabo made for you.

The lock on the door click, these rooms are far more differents from the rest of his ship: far more airy, sodt dim lights made to recreate the ones of your house and flowers that gave that absurdly sweet smell that he had learnd you loved. The intricated and lavished design of the furniture was another show of how much he could gave you, and this was a room for a princess.

But not one for a Queen...

And there, stuck like a deer observing the hunters,you stood. The doors of the wardrobe, wich you suddenly shutted in the moment he appeared in your vision, on your face a shocked and fearing expression.

"Little one.." he mormured, completely enamored by you, that now was pressing your back against the door likebtrying to get yourself merging with that.

"H...horus...y..you're back..."

He looked at you, dressed in one of the dresses that he had gifted you, white like snow, reveling nothing but a mere spectre of your delectable body. Rubies and pearl decorated your figure, gold chains shimmered in the light. His insignia as a pendant on choker, tightly against your neck.

Perfect, just perfect.

"Yes, beloved. I have returned to you..." the doors closed behind him. "Won't you greet your love?"

You gulped, air seemed to had vanished from the room, all while he opened his arms, the ones that holded you while he dragged you in this cage, with that smile splatter across his face.

You trembled, of course you knew he would return, they told you that. You just wanted to have some more time...

"Y/n?"

His tone was low, scary, like if the sky has been covered in a summer storm all of a sudden. It meant he was impatience and you had to play along. You got closer, enough for him to grasp you and hold you against his chest, your feet dangling from the height.

"That's far better..." he sighed, your smell filling his nose and his lungs, allowing himself to bask in your essence.

He was still in his armor, the ones he paraded while saluting his legion after the victory, the one that had saw him crowned as Warmaster, that has been bathered in the Emperor presence. Horus was in his full glory and now he was gifting you with the honor to strip him.

"I missed you..."

"....m-m...me too..."

"You're trembling my love. I hope is for anticipation." He chuckled again, his barotone voice showing his fearsome intent. You wanted to scratch his face with your finger nails, but you know that he would only make everything worst.

"I'm....I'm just happy..."

"Oh yes I can fully hear it in your tone." He said mockling your attempt of sute him. It almost felt like he wnjoyed the scared you more than the idea of you of love him.

"You know what had happened today?"

"...You...You've been... eleveted to...a new status?"

"Yes!" He laughed. "Yes yes...I'm no longer at the same level of my brothers, my adored one, I'm more! I have been chosen by my father!"

His tone was proud, full of accomplicement, but the following sigh and his temple touching your showed a new color.

"It means....a lot...It measn new duties...new burdens...a new beginning..."

You felt it, not bnecause there was even a inch of compassion for the captor that has been nothing but a nightmare to you, but because his last words felt like a grave on your shoulders.

"And this also means..." he smiled, showing his canines. "That I'll need a proper...cvompanion to my side."

"A-A companion?"

"A Queen."

Your heart stopped, the trembling ceased only because your brain had no time but processing what was happening in that room, while those fiery eyes were drawing a future that you surely had no plan to be part of.

"A proper one...a real one...one that everyone can look and say that's the Warmaster spouse. One that will the jewel of my crown. And I want you."

"...I-"

"You know you’re mine, don’t you?” His joyfull voice again disappeared. "That it was just a matter of time. That this room was merely a preparation for what had to come right?"

"I-I know."

"And you know that I will not accept a no as an answer. That I wonp't accept delay, any second thoughts, that you WILL be in front of everyone declaring your love for me, right?"

That wasn't a proposal. He was not on his knees, asking for you to be his wife, that was far too much to ask from a man like Horus. No, he was just stating what he had wanted to happen for a long time, that this was in his plans all along. You were in his arms, incapable to escape, any chance to by broken in two by him, with no answer to gave from a relactant yes.

And you didn't wnated that.

"...I just...wnated to say that....we should celebrate it!"

"..."

"Now...between each other...alone?"

That gleam in his eyes was enough to shake your motives, yet you kept yourself steady against the storm. He smiled, a wide one, his face nuzzling across your chest like a puppy that has been finally given the treat he had hoped for.

"Of course! Of course we will! My love of ocurse we'll do that! Today, every time you want!"

It was almost sad. He released you on the absurdly giant bed made for the two of you, his fingers freeing his shoulders from the massive scarlet cape that has been dragged along, and with that you moved away from his grasp like a mouse from the cat. It was just a moment fo surprise before he could hear the sound of wine being poured in two glasses and your still shaking hand offering him one. They were small, baseline standard one, yet he foud absolutely adorable how you tried to pleases him.

"Just...just for...s-setting the mood?"

In a certain way, you knew you were quite odd. You had never once acted this attentive to him, never tried to act like he had wanted, never accepting of him and you surely never offered him wine!

You were sure he would had sniffed something,he would notice!

But what you didn't predicted was one thing: someone starving for affection will get even the crumble.

His rosed his hand, he would had even drank that wine from your hands if he had to, and this has been the one of the few time you acted like his heart desired. You were opening up, finally!

It was the news of your marriage? Of course it was! Sweet little thing you needed that to finally accept his love? Knowing this sooner he would had proposed sooner!

Hi rised the gobblet, awfully small for him, the metal clacking with the one in your hands while the small cheer has been made.

"To us... for our union..." he whispered looking at you. "To a future for our people..."

You nodded, watching like a hawk the liquid disappearing from his lips and slowly falling down his throat. You weren't sure, nothing made you sure, whatbyou wanted was trusting their words, and with that you gulped your own wine, feeling the bugs in your stomach turning and raging.

It was done...it was done...you surely wanted to believe it but it was-

His hands clasped against your sides, your back slamming against the bed again. The loud sound of the golden gobblet and the spilling wine followed your small and muffled gasp.

The armor made him look even bigger than he already was, more scarier, fitting the image of the demi-god that could crush an entire planet by just moving a finger.

He's scary and he's hungry.

His hands, placed firmly against your sides, hurt you by their strenght and the hardness of the leather, far too occupied on untied the small knots of your dress than observing how unpleasent everything was from a different angle.

"And talk about union..."

You could feel the sultry in his tone, the way his eyes were already undressing you before his hands could start. You could smell the wine in his hot breath in the instant he tried to get closer to kiss you, completely ignoring the look of absolute distress that was painted across your face.

He drunk the vine, you knew he did, you saw it disappearing in his throat but you had just follow the few instructions they gave you! You did not asked how long it would take to be effective or that Horus would be even slightly affected! You did mentione dhe was a Primarch, that nothing could touch him, and they assured you that this time wwould be different!

They told you what to do next., not how long it would take!

He was a few inch, maybe going along would had helped you! Maybe he would just let his guard down even further, suspect nothing, maybe what was about to happen would just speed the process,maybe-

"NO!"

Your hands met neck, the only available thing closer to you taht would allow to create space, you pushed but he did not bulged. Yet, he did not get closer, he stopped in his tracks and not because your weak hands could do it. No, he just opened his eyes, wide opne, and stared at you with his expression, the one of a child that has been so close to get something and now has been tacked away from him like nothing.

He wanted to feel betrayed, because a few seconds ago you were accepting of being his bride, he wnated to be angry because he had done everything right to court and you just showed him away like he was nothing. But mostly, he felt fed up.

"No?...NO?!"

His grip now focused against your shoulders, gripping you so hard that you could feel your bones begging from isnide you before the snap. He holded you down, the mattress pressed so hard that you were almost disappearing inside against Horus weight.

His voice wasn't low, it wasn't a scream, but it was something that you could imagine was close to what a beast could do, a rumble that made your heart went into a frenzy, panicking, ready to jump out from your body and run away.

His eyes were digging holes in your head, a ferocious look of a man that has been reached the breaking point and it was that one.

"how much do you need?! HOW MUCH TIME DO YOU NEED TO LOVE ME?!"

"Y-You're hurting me, stop!"

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT IT MEANS TO BE HURT!"

You screamed when his armored fist punched the mattress so hard that a hole was left behind. He just needed to get closer and your head would had-

“You don’t even know how lucky you are! I protect you and provide for you! DON'T ACT SO UNGRATEFULL!"

"Please I-"

"I'VE BEEN PATIENT! I gave you everything you could ever want and YOU STILL REFUSE ME! But I had ENOUGH..."

You feared that he would finally kill you, that it was it, that the only freedom you would ever gain was through death. You felt it in your guts, but instead of holding your neck and snapping it like a dry branch his grip focused on the front of your dress, just above you chest. He just needed a good push to ripping away from you the front of the silky dress, leaving your chest bare exposed to him, and suddenly death seemed absolutely the best outcome now.

You trashed, ounched, kicked, cried,everything in your position could do. Your feet and hands hurted for the several impacts with his armor, a few stain of blood even remained, but you could care less because this...this was too much.

"NO! LET ME GO! TAKE YOU HANDS OFF ME!"

"STOP BEING A BRAT AND JUST TAKE ME! I'LL TEACH YOU HOW TO ACT IN FRONT OF THE WARMASTER! NO ONE REFUSE ME! NO ONE!"

"NO! NEVER! STOP IT!"

You kept on trashing untill you finally strike something. You scatched his face with your finger nails so deep that even with his inhuman biology he had to back down, emitting a long hiss and holding the sheared part of his face.

It wasn't somethign meant to stay, no scar would ever stay on a Primarch body, not on a wound like that. Horus could already feel his eye already regenerating on a inhuman speed, but it wasn't this the reason why now he was completely done.

You hurted him. The one he loved and wanted more than anything had refused and hurted him.

He stood again, his shadow enguklfed every lights could touch you and even if that was a small victory you knew that there was no turning back from that.

"You...YOU....How....dare you to-"

He stopped.

Your eyes glued on him, searching for his next move but he just....stopped.

His head head started spinning, like if hitted by an hammer, everything was fast and slow at the same time. The colors were a blurr and the lights hurted him like looking directly to a Super Nova. He touched it, trying to regain some sense of space and relief from the sudden pain but the more he tried the more everything became confusing.

He tried to make a few step, to reach for the walls to stabilize his height, but every steps felt unsure and wobbling. He couldn't stay upright, doing it just made his head hurt more and he felt his own weight suffocating against his chest. His breath ragged, he couldn't let the oxygen get in, leading him to a more panic state.

Something was happening and he couldn't understand what and why.

If Horus felt like if time was slowing down, to you it was a matter of minutes of seeing this sudden change. You just heard then a low grunting from him and then, in a loud crash of metal, his massive body fall down, like if suddenly what kind of energy taht had ever moved the Primarch had decided to leave.

You panted, still fearing for your wellbeing, but you gathered enough courage to leave that damn bed and take a few step closer. He wasn't moving, his eyes were closed and his breath was smooth.

He was...asleep.

"...It....It work? IT WORK?!"

You laughed, your nerves screaming in your head after their releasing from the stress, and you allowed yourself to kick that armor just one more time.

The vial worked, that strange liquid they gave you worked!

HORUS WAS OUT!

You needed to collect yourself, to breath, to laugh out every kind of emotion you had in your body because you did it!

YOU DID IT!

...Almost.

It wasn't done, you weren't out from the Wolves den. His sons were still out, ready to grab you if they ever catched you. They were still distracted from the celebrations but you weren't escaped yet and the chances of Horus waking up were like a blade against your back.

You opened the cabinet, taking out the few things you gathered and the Serfs uniform they gaved you to help your escape. The key to the door was like always against Horus's side, tied close so he couldn't lost it and you coudln't take it from him.

But the cage was open now and you rushed out, checking the corridors and the area. No one in sight...you started to run.

Thery waited for you in the hangar, they gave you a number, a window of time.

You couldn't miss it.

///

"So, it is done?"

Omegon looked down to the monitor, close to his brother shoulder. Alpharius nodded, confirming the image of one of their spies dressed up as a member of the Astra Miliitarum making you embark the Thhunderhwak.

"It is."

"How long till the serum is ineffective."

"Enough time for her to be out of his reach."

"Good. This is good."

Alpharius nodded again, the words of that prophet still hunted him.

"This will suffice."

You stagger back into your house around midnight. Mercedes pokes her head out of her room to see what you're doing, and upon seeing your haunted expression she abandons her game to come hug you.

Hesitantly, you return the gesture. Her hold on you isn't as firm as Vulkan's had been, and you slip away to go to your room after a few minutes. She doesn't pry further, giving you space. You're in the house, after all. Not at sea.

Your door closes with a dull click, and you try your hardest to go to sleep, forgoing a shower at all. Figures haunt your mind, and you continue jolting awake as your brain attempts to go to sleep. Even a locked door doesn't give you peace, and you spend most of the night slumped against it, feeling the wood on your back. The cold floor of your bedroom bites at your heels, and you shiver, but you watch the sun rise through the curtains on your window.

The alarm on your bedside stand goes off, and you sway slightly as you stand to silence it. You need to go to work, and warm up for your mermaid time. The world feels unsteady as you make your way to shower, actually getting the grime off of you.

Mercedes is on the couch when you come into the main area, and she asks if you're alright. You manage a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes and tell her that 'Yeah, you're all good. Just a rough day.'

You curse halfway to work upon realizing that you forgot your lunch entirely. At least there's a cafe nearby that you could hit if you wanted to.

The parking lot to the aquarium is guarded by a locked gate, and you check your watch when you pull your car to a stop, cutting off the engine. You've got some time before you technically need to go inside. You rest your heavy head against the steering wheel, and close your eyes. This time, sleep welcomes you with open arms.

There's a knock on your car window, and you jolt to life as you hear it. Blinking wearily, you see Rob at the door— his eyebrows are drawn together in an expression of concern. He's holding his gear bag, and there's already highlighter spread across his cheekbones. You fumble for the door latch, and he opens the door while you slump a little.

"Hey, Brandy's been looking for you," he says, frown deepening as you push yourself out of the car, "Are you alright? You're normally not out here when I show up." His tone turns slightly humorous, "You know I like to be the fashionably late one."

You stare at him for a moment through tired eyes, before you wave him off, "Yeah I just…didn't sleep well last night. Once I'm warmed up I should be good to go."

He watches you get your own bag out of the car, before he murmurs, "Right. C'mon, I'm not beating you in to the pool."

Checking your phone as you make your way inside, you see a barrage of messages from Brandy, who seems to be working herself into a frenzy of worry via the phone. There's a few missed calls too, and you think that maybe you had been more tired than you thought if you missed your ringtone.

The two of you make your way to the back, and the girl in question rushes to come see you.

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry to spam your phone, but I saw your car out there and you didn't respond? I—" she follows you into the locker room, and you're really not listening to everything else she says.

You're getting equipment out of your bag as she continues on, and she frowns.

"Are you listening to me?" she asks.

"Yeah, of course I am," you respond, although you definitely have not been.

She says your name, and you look up to see that same concerned expression that everyone's been having all day. You're getting very, very sick of seeing it.

"Are you okay?" Brandy says, eyebrows furrowing again.

You set your makeup bag down a little more forcefully than you intend, and you snap at her, "I'm fine, Brandy. And you know what— it's really annoying having everyone ask me all the time if 'you're okay'. I'm great," you cackle, eye twitching, voice increasing in volume, "I've never been better. Stop asking."

There's a long, long moment as she stares at you in the mirror, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. You turn partially, and apologetically begin, "I…" The words fade away as your throat closes in shame, choking the words down.

She takes a deep breath, and then exhales, and her eyes dart away. When she looks back at you, her gaze is full of pure steel.

Brandy snaps, "You can't try to help other people and then push them away when they try to help you. It's not fair."

Then she's gone, pushing her way out of the room and slamming the door behind her. You're left standing with the buzzing lights and a halfway put together mermaid outfit. Doing your makeup is tricky, and your hands are shaking as you attempt to do your eyeliner. You know you need to apologize— but there's a gaping cavity in your chest and it's hard to muster up the energy to go do so.

Your reflection distorts as you look yourself in the eyes longer, and the cavity in your chest floods with guilt. When you make it out to the pool again, Brandy is talking to Stan, and that guilt gives way to a bit of anger. You're fine, you don't understand why everyone is acting this way. The only reason Stan would be here would be to…

The older man looks over Brandy's shoulder, and he motions for you to come over. You do, and he tells the lifeguard to leave you two alone for a second. Your heart is slamming in your chest as your duo goes into the hallway. It's empty, and Stan waits a minute to make sure no one comes to the door to listen to your conversation.

"Alright kid, what's up?" he says, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms.

You scoff, "Nothing's up. I don't know why everyone is acting the way they are."

His eyebrows bob upwards, and he nods, before prodding, "Are you done trying to lie to yourself?"

Bristling, you snap, "What are you talking about?"

He motions towards the pool, "Brandy told me what you said. Rob told me that you were sleeping in your car. That's not like you. So, one more time. What's up?"

Your intestines feel like they're twisting into knots as you look at him. Stan is unmoving, unflinching, and you relent.

"I- nothing's wrong, really. I had a scare the other day and it's been weighing on me a bit, that's all. I can do the performance just fine." There! Not the full truth, but not a lie either. A nice medium.

The older diver frowns, looking at you. "It's not that asshole again, is it?"

You stiffen, and his eyes immediately narrow at picking up the reaction. Stan knew more than the others when it came to Dawson— after all, he was the one you had needed to tell about taking time off for the court case. He'd never pried too hard about it, but the details weren't difficult to fill in once the partial truth had come out.

Stan coughs, "He's not.. back, is he?"

You shake your head aggressively, "No, he's not. Just… something came up that reminded me about it, that's all." Your tone turns pleading, "I can do this, really. I'm fine."

He looks back at the pool where Rob and Diana are wriggling into their tails. Stan takes a deep breath, and then sighs. He asks, "Can I be honest with you?"

After a pause, you nod.

"You look like shit."

You blink, and say nothing.

Stan continues, "Look kid, I know you can do this. I've seen you do a performance under worse conditions. However," he lifts a finger to stop you from interrupting, "That doesn't mean you should. And quite frankly, as your diving supervisor, I'm telling you that your current state is not fit for being under the water today."

"Stan-" you start.

"No," he rumbles, cutting you off, "No if's, and's or but's about it. You're not going in that water today. You have bags larger than my wife's Burkin under your eyes and I cannot in good faith let you out there. I'm not risking your life, or anyone else's. Go home."

"But-"

He says your name sternly, and with finality, "Do not make me write you up. Go home. Get some rest. Come back when you're feeling better. Don't come in tomorrow either."

With that, you're thoroughly offended, "I don't— I can't miss two days!"

Stan scowls, "Your attendance will not be docked— go home."

"I-"

"Get your things. Go home."

The two of you have a stare down, and you break eye contact first, going to get your things and heading for the door. Rob and Diana wish you well, but Brandy is strangely quiet. You detour to walk over, and murmur an apology.

She turns to look at you, "I'm still mad at you. Just…" her face scrunches, before relaxing to reveal a tired expression, "go get some sleep. We can talk about it next time."

Nodding, you depart. You almost run into Oliver as you make your way to the outside, and he says something to you that you don't process, and you mumble a hello as you stagger on.

You throw your stuff back into your car and sink into the driver's seat. The next thing you do is scream as loud as you can inside your locked vehicle, the sound ripping through your vocal chords and running them ragged. Your yell drops off into a coughing fit that activates your tear ducts, and once the salty water begins to run down your face, you begin to sob.

They're large, heaving sobs that rattle your entire frame, and you feel awfully lonely as you sit by yourself in your seat and cry. You run a hand through your hair, whispering that everything will be fine, but the tears still come. Your nose is dripping snot, and you blindly fumble in the backseat for a tissue.

Eventually you manage to calm down enough to begin driving, but about halfway home you're hit with that twisting pang in your chest again and the cycle begins anew while you're screaming and crying and driving. You probably look insane to anyone outside of your car, but it doesn't really matter to you.

Pulling into your driveway, you pull your bag out of your car and limp inside. You feel like a soldier that's come back from a battle they lost, and not even the sight of Piper cheers you up. He just reminds you that you have a friend waiting in the cove, and you tear up all over again.

"Damn it," you mumble, wiping at your eyes.

Inside, Mercedes is working on another costume project, and you're quite certain you're a sight to see when you walk in, because she drops what she's doing to rush over.

"What happened?" she asks, gingerly taking you by the shoulders, "Do I need to beat someone up?"

You give a watery chuckle, "No, I'm good."

She guides you over to the couch, and disappears into the kitchen, only to come back a minute later with a root beer and a sandwich. The two of you sit in silence while you look at it, before looking up at her.

"I know you didn't eat before you left this morning," she informs you, "I already had lunch, but I'll go get a snack if that helps."

It really wouldn't, but you pick up the soda to sip at it. The guilt from the day is settling in a pit in your stomach, and suddenly nausea overrides any appetite you might have, so you set the drink back down.

Your friend watches you, a question in her eyes, but she doesn't say anything. You already know the question, and while you weren't willing to share with your coworkers— this was Mercedes, and she'd seen you through your best and your worst.

You take a deep breath, and begin: "There was a man on the boardwalk yesterday…"

With that, the entire story (minus the merman part) comes out, and Mercedes wrinkles her nose as you tell her about the weird behavior.

"Ugh," she says, "Why do men have to ruin everything?"

You laugh a little.

Mercedes continues, "I'm so serious! You're minding your own business and he got in your space like that? So rude." She offers you a smile, "Thank you for telling me. You want to go back to Bunker Protocol?"

Your eyes dart to the floor, then back to her, "I don't know yet. I'll think about it."

She nods, then leans forwards with a pinky finger extended, "You know if you want it, I'm here. Promise you'll tell me, right?"

The infamous pinky shake is shared, and the tangles in your stomach have lessened enough that you can choke down about half of your sandwich. You still need to apologize properly to Brandy, but she was right— that could wait for the next time you saw her.

You stare off into space, then say: "I may go down to the cove. Maybe try and take a nap there or something."

Mercedes eyes you suspiciously, "You sure have been going down there a lot lately. More so than I ever remember. Anything interesting?"

Shrugging, you push off the couch, "I just like to see the sharks."

Your body feels a little bit like lead as you pedal down to the water, and you've never been more grateful that the path there is mostly flat. Your helmet lands with a messy throw as the normal walk down the trail turns into a scramble. You're in plain clothes still, no backpack and no fins or equipment. There's a slight breeze that ruffles your hair as you slump onto the beach.

The sand digs into the side of your face as you lie there, staring out into the waves. It's not long before you spot the telltale fin poking out of the water, and there's something like a wash of relief as it gets closer. Vulkan's massive head surfaces about the water of the shallows, and he frowns as he sees you motionless on the shore.

You stir when he says your name, rising up to a sitting position. Sand falls off of you as you do, and you lean forward again, propping yourself on your knees.

Vulkan's gaze practically pierces your soul as you sit there, struggling to stay upright.

"Did you sleep?" he asks, and honestly you're a little caught off guard by the lack of greeting.

You blink slowly, "What happened to 'hi? how are you'?"

Your laugh tapers into a dry chuckle. The merman doesn't appear to be amused by your idea of a joke, and simply waits for you to quit.

His tail swishes in what you assume to be irritation, before he responds, "Hello. Did you sleep?"

Well, if you have to ask.

"I know how I look, Vulkan. You don't have to dance around it."

His left ears twitches, and he scowls, "You're simply… here earlier than usual."

You scoff, "Well, they sent me home early today. Something about 'I look tired', which, by the way, isn't my fault since someone's brother scared the shit outta me yesterday."

Which you know isn't an entirely fair statement, but you feel like shit and that energy needs to go somewhere.

His eyes narrow, and with a heave of his arms, Vulkan vanishes into the water. His action snaps you out of your stupor, and you lurch to your feet. Panic surges in your chest. You hadn't meant to-

"Damn it," you say for the umpteenth time today.

Your shoes get wet as you splash into the water, and your head is swinging from side to side as you try and spot your merman's fin among the waves. No, no, no- you'd done it again. The urge to sob hits you again, and you trip over a rock and stumble into the shallows, scraping your knee as you go.

The saltwater stings your eyes as you land, and you flail, hissing at the pain. Your clothes are thoroughly soaked, and the waves drag the fabric as they wash up, not caring about how you feel.

You clear your throat and fight through, calling out: "Vulkan? Vulkan I'm sorry. It's not your fault, you told me that yesterday."

Only the faint sound of birds reaches your ears over the gentle sloshing of the water, and you continue on your ramble, "I didn't sleep well last night. I was really freaked out about this whole thing and I thought coming here would help but maybe I made everything worse."

Rubbing sand on your knee doesn't improve the situation, but at least you aren't bleeding.

"You are not very good at apologizing," rumbles a deep voice, and you look up to see your merman only a few feet away. You realize that you're in the water now, and he can reach you.

You narrow your eyes. Was this whole thing a ploy to get you in the water? He doesn't seem particularly angry.

But instead of asking that, you say, "Yeah. I'm working on it."

Scooting further into the water, you take note that Vulkan moves away from you, and you're a little hurt. You understand, given that you basically blamed him for your sleepless state, but you're hurt nonetheless. It must show on your face, because he stops moving.

Then he states, "For the record, my brother did not intend to scare you."

That surprises you, and you stare at him, confused.

Vulkan elaborates, "I spoke to him. Apparently he was meaning to mess with you, but not scare you."

You're attempting to comprehend this, "You…spoke to him?"

It's the merman's turn to look confused now, as he shoots you a look and says, "I told you that I would, did I not?"

Fumbling, you say, "Well, yes, but I didn't think you'd actually do it, or so quickly."

He shrugs, "I am a creature of my word, I can promise you that."

You nod, and scoot further into the water to the point that it comes up over your shoulders. There's the rhythmic rocking of the waves as you sit, and Vulkan watches you.

"I used to not be able to sleep, as well," he says, breaking you out of your stupor.

You turn your head to look at him, "Really?"

Vulkan nods, before leaning backwards as well, his tail swishing with the motion. He continues, "I used to hunt these drakes— massive underwater monsters that are near my city." Your brain picks up on that, but he clears his throat, "They are large sea serpents, and to kill one is an enormous accomplishment. To become a true warrior, one must hunt and present the head of a drake to the council."

He does a lazy loop, and your eyes follow him as he goes.

"I found the largest drake that had been recorded in our history. It gave quite the fight too— and left me with a permanent reminder of our fight." He gestures to one of the largest scars on his tail— a long, wide thing that wraps up to his back.

You're really not sure what that has to do with your current predicament, but he informs you, "I had trouble sleeping for a long time after— the drake ambushed me while I had stopped to take a rest. Even in areas that I knew was well fortified, resting became a difficult task."

"What did you do to fix it?" you ask. Maybe if you were more awake, you'd be asking questions about the direct confirmation of more than just mer-folk trading.

"A friend of mine stood guard while I slept," Vulkan says.

Small waves tickle the bottom of your ears as he slices through the water. You stare at the sky for a minute, then tentatively broach, "Are you…offering to watch me sleep?"

"If you'd like."

It's a very, very tempting offer. And beyond that, you'd already cried all over him the night before anyways. Your brain separates from your physical being for a second as you mull it over. It would help with your worry that something might happen— and you trust that Vulkan's an apex predator. If you're in the water and he's nearby, nothing is going to happen to you.

You make your decision. "Alright. If you don't mind?"

He nods, "You sleep— I'll keep watch."

You're not sure how to go about the sleeping situation, but it turns out that you didn't need to worry about that at all. Vulkan's hands make light work of the sand in the shallows, and soon enough he's dug an indentation that he can fit into without beaching himself. It's a brilliant idea, and you watch him in fascination.

He turns back to you, then digs a second, smaller hole in the sand right next to his area— you'd liken it to a sand nest.

Beaming, your merman gestures towards the smaller hole, "You can rest in this one. I can block most of the water as it comes in."

He demonstrates, wriggling into place. And he's right— very little of the waves make it past his enormous build.

Your eyes are heavy, and you crawl in, curling up in the sand. Initially you face away, but you wind up rolling over so you can see your protector watching.

"Thanks, Vulkan," you murmur, "it means a lot."

He smiles, a hint of his teeth showing, "It's no trouble at all. Rest— I will be here when you wake."

Laying there in the warm sand, listening to the gentle sloshing of the waves, with your friend guarding you proves to be just what you'd needed— you fall asleep with no trouble at all. You do not dream.

~~~

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Despite the shopping bags in her hands, despite her little ones waiting at home, she steps closer to the screen.

"The adeptus astartes of the Lamenter chapter fight valiantly for YOUR safety. Now, you can pay them back!" the smaller text below the title reads, now in a much more subdued format. "By personally sponsoring one of our fearless Angels, you assist in providing ammunition, medical supplies and only the most premium Nutrient Gruel® the Empire can provide! Help our valiant warriors help YOU, and sign up today at-"

Lyanne blinks. The marine on the digital poster blinks back, the short pict recording looping on itself.

When Lyanne's oldest was about eight, she had taken him to a zoological display facility. He'd fallen in love with a particularly miserable looking example of an antierre lizard and, having been recently cursed with the ability to read, had noticed a poster offering the option to "adopt" the animal immediately. Even the information that he would not be taking the depressed looking creature home, only helping sponsor its needs, hadn't dulled his fervor, and after ten minutes straight of pleading, Lyanne had relented.

For the following two years, the family had received monthly updates on the lizard… right up until the miserly creature finally gave up the ghost, meaning she could stop paying for its continued struggle to cling to life. And-

Well. And the very thought of it is surely heresy, but, looking at this poster, Lyanne can't help but see… some notable similarities between those two situations.

Then the poster switches to a different recording, and- needless to say, the sight in front of her is miles better than a sickly reptile.

It's the same marine as before, still somewhat tired looking, but no longer appearing thoroughly crushed. He's photographed from further away, sitting on what looks like a medical table - medical slab? - while one of the red robes works on installing an augmentic hand over the stump of his left arm.

There is a tiny shadow of a smile tugging at his scarred lips, and he is clad in only what appears to be a casual robe, wrapping over one shoulder and ending above his knees. A robe which, Lyanne cannot help but note with absolute clarity, leaves the majority of his chest bare. His magnificently broad, heavily scarred, perfectly muscular chest. Combined with those thighs - and Throne preserve her, they each look thicker than her own torso - it makes for a very, very appealing picture.

The lizard carers sent them picts of it sometimes, she remembers then, twin spots of heat sitting up her cheeks. Lyanne wonders if whoever organized this campaign would be sending some too, by any chance. Especially of this specific marine. She would definitely not mind seeing more of him.

Despite a faint effort to talk herself out of it, she jots the sign-up information down on her personal data slate before moving on, trying to get home before the predicted rains catch up to her.

The yellow clad Angels - Lamenters, apparently - operate somewhat regularly in the sector, and she still remembers the xenos raiding party they beat back on her world. It may have been on the opposite side of the globe, but no matter. As the poster said, she thinks to herself, it's only fair to pay them back.

Her kids will love the idea, no doubt, and she-

Well. As she said, it'll be a much better sight than a mangy lizard, that's for sure.

-

The very moment their teachers give the go-ahead, Penelope rushes off into the museum's gilded hallways, practically vibrating with energy.

She's been looking forward to this for the entire year. Several years, honestly, but she knew her father wouldn't have taken her- meaning she had to wait for the fifth grade school trip like everyone else. Well, all except for Eurylocus, but that's just because his older brother was accepted for the Ultramarine initiate trials. The families of those get free attendance, apparently. Lucky!

But, at least she's here now! Konor Guilliman's museion of the Ultramarine Legion is hers to explore for the day- and that's exactly what she'll do!

A few hours pass this way, in a blur of exploration and occasional chatter with her classmates, jumping from exhibit to exhibit. The storied history of the Ultramarines is ten thousand years long, and there is a lot to go through. Armor variants, weapons showcases, even sculptures of chapter heroes- mostly replicas, but every now and then, a real weapon or piece of ceramite will rest behind the perfectly polished glasscrete, dragging excited ooh noises from Penelope and her friends.

But eventually-

"Aw, closed?" Penelope whines sadly to nobody in particular, staring at the sign sitting right below the giant 'Roboute Guilliman' painted above the closed door. She'd been looking forward to that! With the Lord regent now back from his long sleep, she wanted to know everything there was to know about him- and what better place to learn than here! "Why?"

"You came at a bad time, kid," a man polishing a nearby glass box says from a little further away, drawing her attention. "After the removal of about a third of our best display items, we're restructuring the place."

Penelope blinks. "Removal? Did somebody steal them?"

The man - a museum worker, she would guess - rubs the back of his neck. "More like the original owner wanted them back," he says, and when she stares, uncomprehending, he adds "the Lord Regent. We had the largest collection of his household items in all of Maccrage - plates, cutlery, casual clothing - but…"

"Oh!" Penelope says. That makes sense! It's a shame she can't see them, but she supposes it's better for Lord Guilliman to have them. It must be hard, finding utensils that big otherwise! She imagines the figure she'd seen on statues and paintings trying to eat with her childhood spoon, and snickers. "I understand!"

The man nods, making to turn back to his work, when Penelope spies the pendant handing around his neck and gasps. "Where did you get this?" she exclaims, pointing, and watches the worker step back, startled by her suddenly loud voice. Oops! "Sorry!" she whisper-shouts, and watches the man sigh, suddenly looking very tired.

"There's a gift shop by the exit, they sell all sort of-"

But Penelope is already gone.

"No running in the hallways, kid!" she hears shouted after her; she throws back a quick 'sorry!' then continues on her way, only a little slower than before. She'll be super careful not to hit anyone, so- it should be fine!

She finds the shop where the man said it would be, and Penelope audibly gasps when she sees what's inside- and only partly because she's winded by all that running. She feels like she may have died, and received the Emperor's blessing in person.

The shelves are packed with Ultramarine themed trinkets. She spies the necklace that worker was wearing immediately, but that's far from the only thing she sees. Posters, picts, figures- they have it all! Here's captain Ventris, posing heroically; there, a foot tall statue of chapter master Calgar, intimidating even in tiny form. Chapter heroes from all corners of history line the shelves, blue and gold bracelets and necklaces hang from wooden pegs and models of legendary ships hover in the air, held up by magnetic pads.

And Penelope wants it all.

"75% of all purchases go to the chapter's expenses," reads the sign above a rack of robes with embroidered Ultimas, and she beams. Even better! Once she grows up and becomes a pilot, she'll go join the Ultramarines and help them in person. But until then-

Counting out the thrones in her backpack, she starts gleefully pulling things off the shelves.

-

By the time they arrive at the market, Arihiro's son is practically dragging him along the walkway through sheer excitement. Though, judging by the gaggle of other parents and children clustered around one specific stall, he isn't alone in his eagerness.

He gently tells the boy to settle down, then leads him over to wait in line. No sense pushing, after all; they can wait their turn like anybody else, no matter their personal circumstances.

When the project was first brought up to the citizens of Nocturne, a lot of people jumped on it. Every larger settlement tends to have someone in the Salamanders, and even those who don't are only glad to support their brothers, uncles and elders in battle as much as they can. The way they are doing may be somewhat unexpected, yes, but… it makes sense, in its own way, And Arihiro can't help but find it endearing.

Though the wider Imperium often seems a distant thing, Arihiro is aware of some of its problems, ubiquitous as they are for any populated world. And money is always a problem; especially for a space marine chapter.

The solution their elders in the chapter have come up with?

Plushies.

Made by locals based on pre-established designs in the image of chapter heroes and important historical figures alike, the benefit would be twofold. Half of the proceeds remains with the craftsmen, and half go to the Salamanders themselves, to help sustain their needs, hopefully making their lives easier in the process. Arihiro thought it was a good idea when they announced it, and now, seeing the joy it brings, only serves to affirm him in that belief.

The family ahead of them in line walks away with their purchase, nodding at the two of them in recognition- a gesture which he returns, giving the mother and her two sons a friendly smile. And then it's their turn to peruse the contents of the table, Arihiro's son hopping up and down with glee.

The plushes sit together in groups, their steady poses speaking to some internal wire framing. They're made out of a variety of materials; some crocheted, some sewn, all made with such dedication and artistry it makes him smile. The little figures have name plates set beside them, accompanied by little plaques, detailing their lives' stories.

A tiny plushie of chapter master Tu'shan stands a touch taller than the rest, stubby hands formed into the Aquila. Beside him, a group of He'stans leans against one another, their red eyes rendered in some shimmering fabric that makes them almost look like they're glowing. And beside those-

His sons gasps. "Look, father!" he exclaims, pointing. "They have him! They have uncle Zeraua!"

Arihiro smiles down at him. "They do, yes," he says, examining the plush. Its creator did him justice. Zeraua Kamati's short-cropped curls look as they do in real life, the green and gold armor decorated with flame motifs across both gauntlets and his salamander skin draped over one shoulder. The plushie, unlike many others, is pictured with an amicable smile, And Arihiro can just imagine the man himself requesting it, wanting to come off as friendly to his people as he can.

"An elder of your clan?" the saleswoman asks, having noticed his interest.

Arihiro smiles. "My great uncle, actually," he says, and watches the woman nod respectfully.

"I assume you'll be taking that one, then?" she says, and he nods, then pauses for a moment.

"Actually, make it two," he says, and the woman laughs, his son soon joining in. Fourth company is said to be on its way back home, with an expected arrival in six to eight months. He can't wait to see the expression uncle Rau's face when presented with his own little mini-me's… and maybe this little purchase will help make his journey just a bit safer.

-

Captain Konstantine looks at the makeshift magazine, as comically small as all human-sized objects are in his hands. His own painted visage looks back, though it is… far from the usual portrayal of a space marine, to say the least.

Before him, two loud, racing heartbeats echo through the room for his enhanced senses to hear, the sharp, pungent smell of human anxiety filling the air. By his side, his young equerry, Catalina, takes one glance at the page and pulls a face.

Konstantin can relate.

Clad in what could only generously be called a robe, his painted double sits leaning backwards in a dimly lit environment, a large part of his abdominal musculature on display. His hair has been rendered in meticulous detail, his skin is so shiny it appears almost oiled, and the look in the figure's eyes is what his once-equerry's wife would have called a deadly smoulder.

Having zero desire to look at this any longer, he turns the page- but what he finds there is not much better.

it is unspeakably odd to see what is clearly supposed to be the chapter master Dante clad in only the bottom half of a ripped up bodyglove… though the fact that his body looks little like the real man does make it a slightly less jarring. Still, seeing what is meant to be a representation of his superior so exposed is- not something he wishes to linger on.

The following images continue in the same manner. One of his sergeants, pictured nude from the waist up in the showers. Lord Raldoron, staring hungrily at the viewer. Battle brother Adrios, draped only in a piece of crimson cloth, looking up at the reader from beneath unrealistically long lashes, with a tiny 'for Tarao <3' written underneath the artist's signature. Lieutenant Jaimes, entirely in the nude, the only thing preserving his decency being the long rifle held in front of his-

Konstantine closes the magazine, deciding he has seen enough. The heartbeats of the two humans stood before him skip a beat.

"So," he starts, watching the serfs - a man and a woman, both somewhat young if he's guessing right - startle. "You made this?"

The woman opens her mouth, but the guard standing beside her beats her to it. "We found numerous copies of this filth in their quarters, my Lord " he spits. "They have also been found in possession of an unusually high amount of thrones, slacking on their work to produce-"

"We do not slack!" the woman jumps in, then turns her gaze to Konstantine, bowing deeply. "My lord, we do our work, I promise! You can see the records for yourself- we would never do anything that would go against the ideal working of the chapter."

She speaks the truth, Konstantine can tell. These humans' devotion to the Blood Angels is clear in their postures, the fire in their eyes.

The guard moves to open his mouth, but Konstantine raises his hand, halting him.

"You make these in your spare time, then?"

The man speaks up this time. "More like we distribute them, m'Lord. We're no artists, but we help them get their work out to interested parties. We work together on it all, y'know?"

Konstantine nods, but raises a brow. "For a fee?"

"Well," the man flusters, "we do have to pay for the printing paper, and access to the copiers, and pay the guards to even let us access the floors with the copiers-" he pauses, realizing what he has just admitted to, sweat beading on his brow, but he is quick to talk over it.

"We- uhm, we could give you a cut!" he blurts out, and Konstantine cocks his head. "Yeah! However much you want! It could go to the needs of the chapter?"

From her place at his side, Catalina fights to contain her laughter, and even he himself has to breathe through the urge to snort. "And how, exactly," he says, evenly, "would you imagine we put that in the munitorum reports?"

The two humans look at each other helplessly, shrugging.

Konstantine sighs.

"I will make you a deal," he says, watching the two perk up. "I will not punish you, or any of your compatriots, as long as your actual work continues uninterrupted. Nor will I impede your efforts in producing these… artworks, under these same conditions.

"In exchange," he makes a step forward, holding out the dubious magazine for them to take, "you will make certain that I never-" he gazes into both of their eyes, "have to see this again. Understood?"

The two begin nodding so frantically Konstantine fears for a moment their heads might fall off.

"Good," he says. "Dismissed."

The humans are nearly out the door when he stops them, feeling the need to add on more thing. "The skills of your artistic compatriots are considerable," he says, and he does mean it, for all the subject matter is uncomfortable for him to look at. "Perhaps they would be interested in utilizing them in painting some of the middle decks, instead of only producing magazines of dubious repute?"

The woman brightens. "Oh! Meliana and Adrien will be glad to! But Angeline… ah…"

"Your friend would rather paint me and my battle brothers in various states of undress, you mean?" he says, tone flat.

She blushes, but her companion only shrugs his shoulders, agreeing with his words.

Beside him, Catalina loses her fight with laughter, and Konstantine drags a hand over his eyes, feeling as if he has aged another century in the past ten minutes alone.

-

Alright, that's that! This entire fic was inspired by an absolutely hilarious conversation in the Armoring room warhammer server, and it gave me such brain worms I had to write this. I hope you enjoyed!