“Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy is fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the Lord.”

How the Mournival, who thought they had a free night, showed up on the command deck:

His Brother, His Bird

Horus was not, at first, skilled in—or rather, he had no idea how—to braid another's hair. But when his angelic brother, Sanguinius, came aboard the Vengeful Spirit to learn from him by the Emperor's command, Horus gradually mastered this craft. In the beginning, Sanguinius would often let out soft hisses at Horus's unskilled techniques, and strands of that molten-gold hair would remain caught in his palm, each one stirring a deep sense of guilt within Horus.

But as time passed, he perfected the art. The golden river flowed under his hands as he wove it into styles both practical and resplendent.

In certain moments, Horus would think to himself: This is too much like keeping a pet. You provide them with food, shelter, and trust, and in the end, you must also tend to their wings. And they, in turn, would place their complete faith in you, even drifting off into a daze in your arms.