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tw:mention of abuse, death and suicide.
"Look at this ice Rogal. Look how clean, how shiny, how perfect it Look. Qell, it's dangerous. Can you see the crack appearing when i put pressure on a small spot? It means this ice is thin and dangerous. This lesson shall be used for many subjects,so never forget how fragile and deceptive is beauty."
His grandfather words came as a gust of Wind on a muggy day, suddenly and yet on time.
He had saw you three times, he had counted, and this was the third. The first one was the day of your presentation to him and his brothers, a show off from the pettiest of them,a way from Perturabo to parade the most beautifull woman in the entiee galaxy.
Presumptuous he had thought.
When he saw you entering the room almost dragged by his brother he could think so little of you, that's why he studied you from your first step to the bow you made in front of the Emperor. Everybody congratulated with Perturabo while he basked in the praises of this accomplishment, all while Rogal could only look at your meek nature, to the few words you were able to express, to your body holding itself because no one could.
"She look miserable."
People gasped, Guilliman coughed, Horus called him back while Magnsubtried to distract the sudden rise of rage from Perturabo.
He didn't said anything it wasn't true ,you looked like you wanted to cry, you looked miserable. And yet he was the insensible, the one that look to a newly bride and say she looks miserable.
The second time was durinf a celebration of a new victoria. He remembered you close to one of your husband son, the distance made for the eye and not because they needed to protect you as their legion mother, looking scared, worried, observing how Perturabo was trying to prove that he was the better option for the rebuilt of a new colony, that he deserved that position. And he also remembered how you looked terrified when ,after the rejection of their father, Perturabo stormed our the room.
Now you, even if the veil of fear and worry still lingered, all that Rogal could see was tiredness. From what he could only guess, but he knew that the damages that has been done were deep.
His eyes darted from you to Alexis, the captain that he had sent to retrieve, to the communication that still lay flat under his gaze. A request, a pray, one made by a man under one that jad teached them to be like iron, unmoved, cold like ice and to never bend.
I beg of you to guarantee her right of asylum.
Barabas, a demoted captain, one that should have done everything to gain back his father respect, had presented this request.
He will kill her. She have no protection. No one can stand between her and my Lord. Everyone except you. So please, allow this request of mine to be at least considered.
He cpuld had ignored it. He could had left the message where it was, ifnoring everything knowing of what could had leaded him. Instead...instead you were there.
And he didn't know why.
"I-" you gulped, trying to speak even if it sounded like a whisper. "I wish to not trouble you too much, my lord..."
"You don't, something else is." He said, starnly, immediate and controlled.
"...I don't-"
"You'll stay under my banner. My inner sanctum will be yours untill a solution is found."
"Y-your private-..."
"...too many people know you." He tried to explain, noticing just know how confusinf his order was. "Untill we can fix this situation it would be wise for you to not be seen around. The Serf will be arranged, people I Trust will be in charge."
"...I'm sorry for the deep trouble..."
You apologized too much...
///
During his younger age, stories of monsters that lurks under the ice, demons from the deep and ghosts weren't unusual. He never believed in them, without a proof then nothing was there waiting for him to make a mistake, so he was known to be the bravest among other children. He wasn't, he was just more practical.
On the other hand, he had started to believe that ghosts do existed, but they were not the souls of the deads.
You were almost invisible, unnoticeable to everyone except for the ones thay dared to search for you.
When the door of the room that he had made for you closed behind you he had noticed that only his personal staff had always opened it, allowing food to move inside and the tray of the previous meal to be returned. You, on the other hand, refused every kind of interaction with the outside world. He wasn't even sure you were in that room sometimes, if you were still resided there or had disappeared from his walls that he had assured you would keep you safe. His only proofs of your presence in that room were the tray, those soft thank you and the sound of a beating heart that seemed more interested in disappear.
He didn't blamed you. He couldn't understand, but he could hodl the weight you were carrying.
Sometime he pictured you there, in that room, alone...
...Were you dressed correctly for the coldness of Inwitt?
This thought came one day, while hearing once again teh serf bringing the wood for the fire, looking concerned. Olyumpian dressed were always admirable for their beauty, one thing he couldn't completely understand his nephew and brother was the omission of thei presence during banquets or political meetings, yet they were far lighter than he expected. The material was light, made for a planet that lived in a far more acceptable condition, not for one that had always been covered ina thick strate of ice and storms.
He told you that, in any circumstances, to make sure to voice yuor needs and requests, yet he wasn't sure he had saw any blankets or furr entering those doors. Maybe it was a sense of curiosity, maybe that voice it kept pestering him since your arrival, yet his hand meet the door, a soft knock echoed behind. It didn't not opened but a few inches, but he could see the features of your face from the shadows of the room.
"...Y...yes?"
"Are you dressed up correctly?"
You blinked your eyes, taken aback. He stopped, thinked, then refrased.
"These rooms can be cold. Olympian dresses may not be functional for this enviroment."
"...Are you asking me...if I need anything to cover myself up?"
"Correct."
"Oh...I...well...It's....It's fine, the fire is fine."
"The fire can die out. Furrs and wool are far more effective, they can isolate from the cold and collect the heat from the fire."
"....Do you want me to accept?"
"I would like to be sure to open this door one day and not finding you frostbite, my lady."
You sighed, the door finally opened. The room was warm enough, but he had learned many time that just a fire was not enough to protect yourself from the danger of the cold. It can came slowly, make you sleep, your heart gave up even before you could fight it. And your fingers surely needed more heat than ever, and that simple blanket around you wasn't making the job.
"Thank you for your kindness."
"It's the bare minimum."
"I accept the blanket."
"...I would also like for you to not stationate too much in this room."
"Pardon me?"
"... You haven'r left these for walls in a week, my Lady. As much as I appreciate the cooperation you giving to me to secure your stay, I also worry that this seclusion may affect your mental state."
You needed to process correctly his words. Talking with Rogal Dorn was like talking with an instruction book that begged to be translated.
".....I wish..." he started, seraching the right words. "For you to...spend some time outside...doing something else than.....what were you doing there."
"But I believed that....if less people knew about me would be a better option for everyone?"
"I did said that, yet, I did not suggested total isolation."
"...Would you spend some time with me'"
"..."
You realized Rogal Dorn wrinkled his nose when he was thinking of something he couldn't completely picture the outcome.
///
Perturabo rarely had shared good words or compliment about people around him. If he found them adequated no word wasbspoken about themnor to them, when he didn't appreciated them he had vocally poned his ideas. And Rogal Dor. Was someone he had always had a word about.
He had told you that Rogal had stole the purpose he believed to be his, that he was a mediocre Artificier of the Imperium, that he had walls for arristic references. Perturabo was your husband, you believed him and followed the one rule he wanted you to follow: to not talk to Rogal Dorn.
And now, sitting across his office, observing him while he's completely obsessed over his work, you wonder how wrong he must have been.
Rogal was a man that spoke when he needed to be heard, never out of time and never too early. He used words like they were bricks, solid and never wasted on someone, made to stay and to be seen. His eyws were the ones that take everything in and stillbare able to notice the details,the small crevice of an entire structure,the flaws and the stenghts of a person like a statue.
He was also a man with his own way of thinking, following a flow rhat only he could understand and yet found a way to translated to others. Like when you saw him take out from one of the drawers in his desk some geometrical wooden fogures and started to impilate them in a series of sequences, one different from another.
"...Toy blocks?"
"Building blocks." He responded while continuing his work. "I use them to visualize my ideas, to see them in fuction. "
He did not needed to rise his gaze to notice your approach. Soft movements of cottons, the delicate footsteps, came to his ears almost like a direct whisper, thanks to his senses. His hands stopped, enough to hear how close you were allowing yourself to go, to observe.
A meter from him...a progres.
"Why not using projections?"
"...When I stare for too long the image seems to blend."
"...eyes problem?"
"No, my head just work differently. "
"Oh."
This wasn't a flaw as it wasn't a compliment for himself. It was just what it was, a concrete truth that he had long gone accepted. Everybody has accepted it and he had his job done, so why bother?
You started to staring to the blocks, they seemed almost new by the vibrants colors, yet you couldn't not notice a few signs or the bevelled angles.
"They are...were a gift, from my grandfather." He responded almost predicting your question. "He gifted them to me when I started to stay under his care, said he wanted to gave them to his future nephews but he never married."
"Ah, an heirloom then?"
"Quite. They are from long ago, they has been passed through his family from before Inwitt."
"So, you'll pass them to your children one day?"
His hands stopped working and you notice the Praetorian blushing ears.
///
It was like something was pressing against your chest and each breath it became harder to put oxygen in.
"It's not a good idea!" You breathed out, trying to turn away from the door. Rogal hand stopped you, trying to ground you back down. "You said that the less.that knew about me the better it was!"
"I do remember what I said, but I do believe that informing my captains it will help to deal with future issues." He responded with rhe same certantly that he used when explaining a new project.
"I know of your fears. You have to trust me."
"I do trust you, but-"
"You must do it now too."
He gaved you so little time to responde when the door opened.
You recognized two of the astartes in the room. With his abnormal height even outside his armor, Alexis immediately darted his face toward the door and the almost stressed expression that was painted on his face dissipated immediately, leaving him by just sighing in relief. At the center the second one that looked awfully familiar with his blond golden hair tied in a messy pony tail and decorated with a laurel and an expression that seemed unimpressed by anything. The third one reminded you of more cleaned version of the wolves unde Russ banner, his hair short couldn't hide the many scars that seemed so unnatural on an Imperial Fist. Alexis and the second one shared those blond hair that seemed to be a characteristic from theirgene-sire, while the third one shared the same stoic expression.
"It's that her? I thought she would be less pleasant."
"Quiet Fafnir." Hissed the one at the center, unsatisfied with the comment.
The one that spoke, Fafnir, rised his hands sharing a not so complacent look.
Rogal's cough called their attention back, the three immediately stood on their two feet like stone pillars, their hands on their chests.
"Rest, my sons." He rised his hand, gently guiding you inside. "This is...Lady Y/n. Captain Alexis Polux had already had the chance to met you before, of course."
You shared a timid smile when the soldier inclined his head against you, acknoweldging you.
"My first Captain, Sigismund." He then pointed to the man on the center. You noticed only then the cross against hischest, a curious shape of it, and the sword against his side. He bowed fastly and precise, one made merely to show by someone that had never learn the meaning of the act.
"First Captain?" You said remembering now the first time you met the man. "Then we met before?"
"On Terra, my Lady. I could berely speak to you before the first Captain of the fourth fourth could drag you away."
"Y-yes..." You remembered now just a mere interaction that you coudln't fully registered before Forrix intervention.
"Have your arm recovered?"
"Excuse me?"
"With that force, I assume that Kydomor had made more damage than good."
"Oh, no no I...I'm fine,thank you for your concern, my lord."
Sigismund hummed, hiding the small satisfaction in his face.
"And him-"
"Fafnir Rann, young one. Must say, you look quite..small to has been the wife of a Primarch such the Lord of Iron." He repsonde immediately, crouching down reaching your eyes. He looked exactely like he sounded, a man that know no defence beside the one that a knife can give. He sounded and moved so differently from Rogal or his brothers, yet he seemed not a threat like one you could recognize.
"...Beside not being unpleasant?" You mentioned remidning him of his previous comment. He just laughed, shrigging off the heavyness that you holded from the moment you had entered the room.
"That's quite a good trait!"
"He's the Lord Seneschal and, as you could understand, he's quite straight forward in his manners. Please, don't mind him, he's usually worst."
You tried to hold a small laugh for the comment, completely forgetting the fear you had before entering the room.
"As I explained, Lady Y/n will stay under our protection. I'll take time to entroduce her to the captains that I find fitting to hold the knowledge. I hope you can understand the risks of her presence here and my motivations on why I accepted this arrangement. I pray you can treat her as a member of this legion."
"It shall be done."
"It will be...But please, I have so many questions about the personal life of one of those unsofferable trenchs constructors."
You observed these man arguing in a way that didn't looked like anything you had seen before. They did it in front of their father, of their Primarch, wich such a tranquillity that seemed unreal and he just observed between a nod and a small comment. He did not rised his voice, he did not make them quiver in fear or rage against them like iof they had offended him in person. They did not used every chance they had to shine under their father eyes, they acted in the way they were without even forcing themself, knowing that the only way for them to be reconnized was just to be.
It felt fresh, for once.
///
Talking with Rogal started to became normal.
In front of the fore, with the warm beverage between your fingers, covered in a soft furr from a wild creature of Inwitt, everythingbstarted to became normalcy, almost needed to you.
He listened, but he also spoke giving advice, solid ones, and never out place bit exactely how they should have been. As amways, like stone for a castle.
"I should had stopped before it was too much."
You sighed out, talking about what has been like a boulder that has been bound on your ankle with a chain.
"He was young...a child. I voiced my worries but Calliphone, bless his heart, never took my words like i beg her to. I should had been more direct..."
"You couldn't predict that."
"His sudden growth? The gact that the infatuation of a chils became the obsession of a man?"
"No, that he would go that far to have you."
You sipped the beverage, a sweet concoction of herbs that Inwitt's people seems to enjoy during the colds nights.
"...I even blamed her...my friend, my beloved Calliphone..."
"It may be just a suspicion, but it ever accured to you that maybe she had intentionally allowed the union?"
Your eyes widened, lookinf at hisndirection. He stayed calm, but the idea that he may had spoked roo arshly started to dancing in his mind. Another trait you had learned of him is that, sometime, Rogal spoked with no intention to harm and yet creating such damage that could make crumble the strongests of the bastions. He imagined you defending the Lady that you had saw as a sister for so long, to accuse him of trying to picturing her like a double-face witch, that he should watch his tone. Instead he saw your eyes searching for the answer in the murky beverage, like if it could float inside.
You had suspected it, for such a long time, but never dared even to think about it like you should had. Her dismissing excuses, her constant praising on a brother that was renowned since his young age, her almost fake sadness from your broke engagement...
The fact that she was almost satisfied on your wedding...
It was there, always there, but that truth was like a stain on a dress that you tried to ignore.
"... I do not hate him."
You looked at Rogal, his back relaxed against the old armchair just like his expression, a calm and neautral one.
"As much as he think or say it, my feelings on my brother are not of hate or disdain. "
"...you did not?"
"No, not at all. I do, in fact, respect him and find his work admirable."
You coughed against the mug, taken aback from the information.
"Surprised?"
"I am?!"
"Understandable. We do have a rivalry that no other of my brother can have. Yet, I have never silenced my thoughts about his work. I had learned how to build to endure and resist, my home wasn't one for art or beauty. He, on the other hand, had not once presented a project that was below the expectations."
You listened to him, realizing that his words didn't came from a place of formal nicety, but from.tge place were he grow up. Plain and simple, true.
You observed his expression, he hold nothing against him, not in the same way Perturabo did. Every time he had opened his mouth to talk about Rogal he morfed in thw jalous creature he was, the one that has been denied what he wanted the most. Rogal... he was calm, understanding, almost with that int of admiration that he had silently holding inside and never got the chance to prove.
"He has been task woth destroy, but he also wish to preserve the beauty of the planet he had conquered. He can find what we lack and would help us in the future... and somehow I can understand your marriage..."
"How?"
"Because he wanted to protect something beautifull that he loved before someone else could have it... I'm just disappointed that he had started to do what he has been ordered to even with you."
You couldn't hide the blush, neither your wet eyes.
///
"What are those?"
He looked to the window, where the frapes of colors and lights met the ice of the surface in a silent dance.
"Aurora borealis. A atmospheric phenomenon that happen when we're hittdd by the dsolar storm close to us. It usually not dangerous."
You stared at the window, admiring the scene in front of you. Never on Olympia you were able to see something like this, not once in your life you could ever imagined to be even present for something like this.
"It's...beautifull...back at home we-"
"This kind of phenomenon are unusual in area such as your. But I presume that they did appear on your home planet as well."
The quiet of the room came back, only to be interrupted again by the click of the door window. The first thing that came was the soft gosh of cold that came like a sweet parfume. The storm outside had stopped hours ago, the clouds of ice had moved away allowing a vew of the Inwitt night sky, with its stars, the moons and that spectacle that would be covered up by the winds.
He saw you there, between the glass of the window, admiring the outside like if nothing else could had never catche dyour attention before. The warmer clothes moved along the soft blow of the wind and the shawl slighty pending to one shoulder than the other gaved you a look that he had never noticed before.
You ignored the thick snow on the parapet and your hands grabbed the old stone like making sure those lights didn't take a liking on you and decide to take you away. And he saw a glimps, the spectre of a smile that had been there for so long, that has been hiding from someone that had despertly tried to catch it.
And for once, Rogal needed to side with his brother by admitting that you were indedd the most beautifull woman in the Imperium.
///
His bed felt wrong that night. He kept on moving, trashing, searching a good position but nothing helped.
He did not needed to sleep, he was made to endure hours of work no-stop, but he found the activity far more helpfull now than to staying there fixing a paper with no idea of what to write. Because yes, the Praetorian couldn't work now, not knowing what was happening in his head and how dangerously stupid it was.
Yet, laying down had no helped him at all, because sleep cannot come when a mind is running wild like a river.
Circuling the information was silly and useless: he was indeed feelings something towards you, something that has started to developing in those few months you had started to stay under his care, where he had saw you finally regain what he believed was a life before his brother, your husband had decided that it wasn't enough. He had written down everything, like a medicae that appoint down on paper the symptoms of an illness, like if he needed to make sure that they weren't just some mirages of a over saturated mind.
He had noticed that he had started to stare at you approximately between the 10 and the 15 seconds. They may seems small amounts of time, yet they had started to became a recurring thing that lead eventually for you to notice him and him to try tp get back to work.
He had memorized many information about you and many of them are for a matter of fact details that are not valuable to him or any purpose he know. Like, what kind of purpose got the detail that you enjoy admiring the snowflakes that fall? It is not necessary, and yet that had leaded him to a long rumble in shapes, form and the time he had ctached one that was big as his grandfather hand.
He had started cunted the numbers of sketch he had made of you during some pauses, each of tghem different from the other, small changes of expression that he had saw you make and some he imagined you could do. He had counted 20 of them, but he suspect he had more in his desk.
And so so many other things he did not need and yet have and wish to never loose. And was not bothered by it.
He also knew how dangerous was getting so close towards you, especially knowing the silent ruckus that was happening between the fourth legion. Perturabo tried to hide it, to make sure no one knew, yet things do slip out especially when someone is trying to get them as close as they can do.
The lady of Iron has gone missing.
And Rogal knew that, at some point, Perturabo would had started to watch each one of his brother, because no one could steal somethign from a Primarch than another Primarch themselves.
But he did not stole you, you allowed him to help you and you accepted it.
...Why he has done that? Why cross so many lines? Sigismund asked as well and even there Rogal didn't had the correct answer.
Why help you? Why risk so much? Why getting exposed to something so dangerous as the rage of his brother?
...Karmik...
Ah...ah he almost forgot that name....he almost forgot that girl from his tribe, how she looked so jovial, especially the day of her wedding.
...But thing went wrong. Her parents stopped seeing her around, always away with that husband from another tribe, always too occupied to care for what she once has. And people talked and they were worried.
He did not remembered everything, what he had remembered was that night, when she appeared despite the storm to his grandfather in tears and covered in bruises. How he had ordered Rogal to get to the other side and to not hear what they were talking about, even when he ahd heard mostly her crying and begging his grand father to help her.
...But he could not help her, not when their tribe was at risk.
The next morning she went back and no one saw her again.
Someone said she had fallen in the ice. Someone said it was tge husband who pushed her...someone said she did it herself.
And heremmebered the guilt in hsi grandfather eyes everytime the story came back like a bubble from the deep of his mind and he remembered the remorse in his voice.
"If only I did what i could have done something..."
Ah...He had almost forgot this story...Maybe it wasn't usefull enough? Or maybe he had just wanted it to remain silent...
He smiled, looking at the ceiling, realizing that, in the end, he did accomplished one of his grandfather wishes.
And also realized that everything he was feelings right now weren't so bad.
