Space marine headcanons 2! When they notice servitor reader
The first time they noticed you...
It wasn't because you were loud.
Or particularly important.
Or because you had spoken to them.
It was because, somehow, you always seemed to be there.
The battle barge never truly slept. Engines rumbled endlessly through its immense hull, servitors shuffled through endless corridors, and Chapter serfs hurried from one duty to the next.
Just another human assigned to keep the Astartes' war machine running.
You carried ammunition crates to the armoury, transported damaged weapons to the Techmarines, scrubbed blood from the decks after every deployment, restocked medical supplies for the Apothecaries, and somehow always seemed to know where you were needed before anyone had to ask.
Most Space Marines scarcely noticed the serfs who served them.
You expected nothing different.
Brother Valius noticed first.
Every Chapter serf aboard the battle barge looked exhausted.
But no matter how tired you were, your work never suffered.
He watched you struggle with a crate nearly half your own weight before another serf hurried over to help.
Once the crate was secured, you offered your companion a tired smile before returning to work without complaint.
The next time he passed you in the corridor, he inclined his head.
"Thank you for your service."
No Astartes had ever thanked you before.
By the time you managed a quiet, "My lord," in response...
He was already continuing toward the launch bay.
He thanked you every time your duties crossed paths.
Brother Quartus noticed the little things.
The way you instinctively stepped aside whenever a squad approached.
How you always ensured the corridors remained clear before an operation.
The way you checked every ammunition container twice before sending it to the armoury.
One afternoon he found you attempting to drag a damaged blast shield across the deck.
You had clearly been trying for several minutes.
Without saying a word, Quartus lifted it effortlessly.
Set it exactly where you had been trying to move it.
Then gave you a single nod before walking away.
Brother Decimus couldn't understand how one human kept appearing everywhere.
"...Didn't I just see them in the launch bay?"
"...Now they're in the armoury?"
"...How are they already cleaning the sparring cages?"
Scipius didn't even bother looking up.
"That's not what I meant."
"It answered the question."
Eventually Decimus started greeting you whenever he spotted you.
Mostly because he was genuinely curious.
"Weren't you just somewhere else?"
You simply smiled politely and continued carrying your supplies.
Some mysteries remained unsolved.
Brother Scipius observed patterns.
Every squad returned from a mission.
Repair requests already organized.
No one had instructed you.
You had simply learned the routines.
Eventually, Scipius realized something.
Whenever a squad returned with wounded...
You always made sure they were attended to first.
Even if it meant your own workload doubled.
It was the closest thing to praise he ever gave.
Brother Vespasius first spoke to you after seeing you stop beside a small shrine tucked into an otherwise forgotten hallway.
You paused just long enough to straighten a fallen purity seal and relight the candle that had gone out before continuing your duties.
"A servant of the Emperor need not wear power armour to display devotion."
From then on, whenever your paths crossed...
"The Emperor watches over the faithful."
You always bowed your head respectfully before hurrying back to work.
Brother Straban noticed you because you were blocking a corridor.
You were trying to move several ammunition crates stacked on a trolley whose wheel had become hopelessly jammed.
A massive shadow stopped beside you.
Straban looked at the trolley.
Looked at the damaged wheel.
Then picked up every crate by hand.
Set them neatly on the opposite side of the corridor.
He stared at the trolley for another second.
Straban continued checking the feed mechanism on his Heavy Bolter.
"The corridor was obstructed."
"...That's the only reason?"
Brother Telorian noticed your work in the forge.
Unlike many serfs, you never touched equipment without permission.
You organized tools exactly where they belonged.
Returned every sacred implement to its proper place.
Never interrupted the Techmarines during their rites.
One day he watched you carefully polishing an ancient plasma conduit while cross-checking the maintenance records.
You looked up immediately.
He gave a single nod before returning to his work.
That was practically extravagant praise.
The operators would return from another brutal deployment.
Their weapons fouled with blood and ichor.
Before they even removed their helmets...
Repair requests prepared.
Replacement equipment waiting.
Water for the Chapter serfs assisting the armoury.
No one had assigned you to greet them.
Eventually, the operators found themselves unconsciously looking for you whenever they returned to the battle barge.
If the hangar seemed strangely empty...
If your familiar figure wasn't already moving between the rows of Thunderhawks with another cart full of supplies...
Someone would inevitably glance around before asking,
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blakekathryn
