#lamenter x reader

You didn’t realize you’d spoken aloud until a low hum resonated through you. It lifted at the end, sounding almost confused.

“Why would you think that?”

Your head lifted. You couldn’t help it.

Firelight danced over Taliesin’s face, painting the ridges of his weathered features in alternating orange and black. He would have looked like one of the stone statues in your village’s small chapel if not for his eyes.

Golden and slightly luminescent, like a predator’s. But carrying none of a predator’s hunger. Only warmth in which you desperately wanted to bask.

“I can’t…,” you breathed, “... I shouldn’t!”

His head tilted slightly, once again reminding you ludicrously of a giant canine. You didn’t know if he intended to shift his great weight forward, but the slight movement made you flinch all the same.

Something in his eyes broke your heart anew.

“I will not hurt you.”

How many times has he told me this?

You looked back down at your knees. “I… I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He was quiet for a long while. You heard his breathing, ponderous and deep. You found yourself trying to match it, your heartbeat slowing, the roar of blood in your ears quieting. Despite everything, the panic guttered as quickly as it had ignited.

Leaving only a soul deep ache.

The words slipped past your lips before you could think to bite them back. “I’m broken. He… broke me. Sometimes… I almost forget. Like at the river. But it comes back.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks.

“It always comes back. I’m not… not strong enough. Not worthy. You shouldn’t… shouldn’t….”

“Stop.”

It was not a rebuke. A sigh like the roll of the tide against a shoreline washed over you. It carried the weary sadness of entire worlds. You shivered, but not because of fear.

Do Angels truly feel so deeply?

The insects continued in the night. The fire kept up its crackling. And tension hung in the air like fog.

“Rest, Little Cat.”

The presence retreated, ground trembling under his footsteps. Somehow the maelstrom of despair in your chest had faded. 

You didn’t know how to describe what remained.

***

Taliesin stood over you in the pale light of dawn. They should have started moving hours ago. The mountains loomed foreboding overhead, and he did not know how treacherous the journey would prove, pass or no pass. Best to get an early start.

But he couldn’t bring himself to wake you.

You lay curled on your side, knees bent to your chest, hands tucked beneath your head. For once, you had not cried out during the night. Your face was smooth and peaceful.

It made something in his chest twist.

You look so young. So innocent.

He frowned as he recalled your words from the night prior. The self-loathing he’d sensed beneath them. He knew that feeling. He deserved it.

Not you.

It was not a sentiment many other Chapters would share. The Salamanders, certainly. He’d heard tell of their compassion toward even the victims of the Archenemy. Most Lamenters had. Chapter lore spoke of the Great Shame of the Badab War, when the two Chapters had found themselves on opposing sides. Veterans of that damned conflict told of the respect between them even then. 

Taliesin had always hoped to encounter the Sons of Vulkan someday.

His eyes slid to your back, the knowledge of that cursed mark eating at him. 

If not the Salamanders… the Blood Angels themselves… or perhaps a particularly understanding Ultramarine…. 

He thought of what would have become of you if you’d encountered the likes of the Black Templars. His fists clenched.

They would have cut you down on sight and called it mercy.

Hadn’t he almost done the same?

As he had the previous night, he sank to one knee next to you. You’d regained some condition in the time since he’d met you. He no longer feared snapping your limbs with a mere touch. Time under this world’s sun had returned color to your formerly translucent skin.

It looks so soft.

He stood with a jerk, jaw clenching.

“Little Cat.”

Your eyelids fluttered.

“Little Cat, awaken.”

They flickered open. He braced for the bolt upright, the instinctual flinch back from his armored form. Instead, you simply blinked up at him. You did not smile. But you did not grimace, either.

He felt some of the tension bleed from his shoulders. “Forgive me. We must go.”

Taliesin’s hands twitched inside his gauntlets as he watched you push yourself upright. “Do your feet yet pain you?”

You took a few, hesitant steps. “Not as much.”

“Good.”

He stepped back.

Distance, Lamenter. Distance.

“There are some rations remaining. Eat.”

As you gnawed on the meal bar and sipped river water he’d made sure to boil over the flames (he’d remembered just in time how sensitive mortal digestive systems could be), Taliesin eyed the forested slope rising steeply above them. No scent of predators or other threats wafted to him on the breeze. The calls of small avian creatures were the only sounds.

He raised his bare face to the sun now peeking its way over the mountains. The warmth pleased him.

“It will be a good day for travelling.”

You sniffed the air. “No rain nearby.”

He arched an eyebrow and you quickly looked away.

“I… I think.”

He wanted to question you. 

On what planet were you born? Was it as… green… as this one? Was the terrain mountainous, forested, both? Did you have family?

A grimace twisted his lips. His desire to hear your soft, sweet voice was entirely selfish. He didn’t deserve it.

Unworthy.

The similarity to your own words last night sparked unease. But now was not the time to dwell upon trivialities. 

“Let us go. Do you require my assistance?”

“No!” 

The sharpness of your reply surprised him. “Very well. Follow… please.”

***

You hadn’t lied about your bandaged feet. Not really. They felt much better than they had the previous day. But as you scrambled up the slope behind your giant protector, you found yourself wishing yourself back in his arms.

Stop it!

Gritting your teeth, you pressed through the steadily increasing ache. You did not deserve his touch, or his pity. So you would learn to do without it.

I was strong once. I can be again.

The thought sent a surge of determination through you. And more than a little fierce glee. He… had kept you weak. Forced you into helplessness and frailty. Every step you took now, every rock over which you scrambled, every steep slope you pulled yourself up by grasping tufts of grass, you did to spite him.

I may be tainted… but I will not lay down and die. 

“I… will… not!”

“Little Cat?”

Ahead, Taliesin had turned toward you. You felt heat flood your face as he looked down on you with that same glaze full of concern.

“I’m… all right.” You panted. 

Again, not exactly a lie. Your lungs burned as they had during your panicked flight from the cannibals. The muscles in your thighs screamed. You gritted your teeth in disgust at your pathetic body. 

“Your cortisol levels are rising.”

You had no idea what that meant.

“I’m fine!” You snapped, then cringed.

Anger is not allowed. Anger brings pain. Oh, Throne! I can’t believe I just-

“Hmm.”

That was all. Taliesin paused atop the slope, eyes scanning the approaching treeline. He didn’t appear the slightest bit annoyed by your outburst.

He wouldn’t be. Not him.

The surety of the thought surprised you. Taliesin wouldn’t punish you for your anger. So you let yourself feel.

“I used to… be able… to do things… like this..” 

You wasted valuable oxygen by talking. But you couldn’t make yourself stop.

“I could climb… without… bleeding.” A tuft of grass loosened in your grasp, and you slid back a few feet. “Argh! I could run… without… falling.”

You slammed your hand against the moist ground. “I wasn’t… useless!”

“I believe you.”

The words made you pause. Taliesin’s golden eyes regarded you, not with pity, but calm assurance.

“Reach up and to your left.”

You did. Your fingers curved around an embedded rock the size of your fist. It didn’t move beneath your weight. 

“Good. Now pull.”

A grunt burst from your chest as you hauled yourself the last few feet up the slope and flopped to the ground at Taliesin’s feet. For the first time, your heart beat like a wild thing from exertion rather than fear. 

Exertion. And pride.

“I did it!” You smiled up at your Giant in Yellow Armor.

“You did.” He smiled back.

You lay there in the grass for a few moments, staring up happily at the Emperor’s Angel. The position felt familiar. Images of that glorious moment by the river flooded your mind.

I wish I could touch him again.

The happiness seeped from you like blood down a drain. Looking away from those beautiful golden eyes, you rolled up onto your knees. Trees, the same as the ones from the forest the two of you had journeyed through days ago, swayed in the breeze just beyond Taliesin. And beyond them….

“Ugh. More climbing.”

You swore you heard the giant chuckle.

***

Taliesin was proud of you. 

It was a new feeling. He’d felt protectiveness over mortals before, often. Fondness as well. 

But pride?

He watched you eye the mountains. You frowned, lips pressed together until they protruded slightly. He remembered seeing a serf woman instruct her young son to aid in removing the gathered refuse from their hab compartment once. The boy had made that exact expression.

Pouting. It’s called pouting.

His own lips twitched in amusement. Guilt followed swiftly.

I should not find enjoyment in your displeasure.

“Do you see the gap in the peaks?”

Your eyes narrowed and you shook your head. He knelt beside you, trying to get as close to your eye level as possible. The restrictions of his armor made it difficult.

“There.” He pointed.

“Oh!” 

“I believe that is the pass. If so, we will not need to scale the peaks.”

Relief flooded your features. He felt the same. Hauling himself alone over the sheer rock walls would be difficult enough. He was no Raven Guard. And he had no means by which to secure you to his body.

The image of you tumbling to your death made something tighten within him. He stood.

“Do you require more water?”

You nodded, and he passed you the canteen he’d filled with purified river water. A few rivulets escaped your lips as you gulped, trickling down over your throat. The sight held an odd fascination. He looked away.

“You have done well this far.”

The color deepened across your cheeks. He’d seen the effect before, usually following something he’d said to you. 

“What is the meaning of that?”

You cocked your head in confusion.

Before he could think better of it, he brushed an armored finger across your reddened skin. “The increased blood flow to your facial dermis. What is its purpose?”

Your eyes widened. The color went from a subtle shift to a far more vibrant tone. Pulling back, you scrambled to your feet, seeming to look anywhere but his face. 

“Forgive me. Have I offended you somehow?”

“N-no… it’s… you shouldn’t….” You pressed your palms to your cheeks, as if hiding. 

The image was oddly adorable.

“It does not cause discomfort?”

You backed up a few steps as you shook your head. “I… I’m fine.”

“Hmm.” 

It seems there is much I still do not know about mortals.

Taliesin watched you turn away and brush nonexistent dirt off your poncho. A familiar melancholy ache pulsed behind his hearts.

I wish… I could learn more of you.

He was so warm. You couldn’t remember if you’d noticed that before. His heat banished the chill from the water dripping off him and onto your already soaked form. Without thinking, you slid your thumbs along his cheekbones. 

Rough. Leathery. Nothing like… His.

You traced the scar bisecting his lower face. When you ran your fingers over his lips, he shuddered.

“Little Cat-”

“Beautiful.” The word slipped out without conscious thought.

He was. The sunlight reflected off the water droplets clinging to his hair, turning what had once been vaguely yellowish to glittering gold. Crouched over you, he seemed crowned by a halo of the Emperor’s Light. 

An Angel. A true Angel.

He closed his eyes under your touch. When they opened again, you gasped. There, too, was that holy light. Bright with an intensity that made you want to press closer. To bask in the warmth you saw reflected there. 

For a heartbeat, his great head lowered, forehead brushing yours. Hot breath washed over you. Not sweet. But you didn’t mind. Your eyes fluttered closed as you lay there, surrounded by your Giant in Yellow armor, your Angel.

“Taliesin.”

Emperor, please, let me stay like this. Don’t take this away.

But, like so many before it, this prayer remained unanswered. The trance shattered as a tremor seemed to run through the giant warrior. He reared back, first to his knees, then up to his feet with a groan of overtaxed metal. The damp earth beneath you quivered as he backed away.

Something sharp pierced your chest.

Shame followed, hot and foul. You curled in on yourself, trying to hide beneath the folds of your soaked poncho. The skin of your hands tingled. You stared down at them.

What have I done?

***

Uncertainty was not an emotion familiar to Taliesin. Bewilderment, even less so. Yet as he staggered backwards, away from the tiny, sodden figure on the grass, he did not know what to do.

Water dripped into his eyes. He swiped at them, as if clearing his vision would somehow clear his mind. All three of his lungs expanded. His chest rose and fell with increasing rapidity, his cracked chestplate groaning.

Is this the Rage again?

The thought sent a lightning bolt of very un-Astartes fear straight through him. He shook his head, flinging river water in all directions.

No… no. That was different.

Taliesin half-turned to look back at you, his Little Cat, to reassure himself you had suffered no true harm. His eyes made it as far as your feet before darting away once more. 

You’d been so small beneath him. Shivering from the shock of icy water. He’d just wanted to make sure you were all right. That was all he had wanted. But then you laughed.

The sound had shocked, then concerned him. Mortal minds broke as easily as mortal bodies.

He remembered one ruined colony, a figure in a half-scorched Guard uniform stumbling out of the smoke, blood streaming from her skull. He remembered the constant, high-pitched titter emanating from her slack lips. He remembered spending precious hours coaxing her into the medicae’s tent.

He remembered the crack of a Commisar’s laspistol minutes later.

All these memories had flashed through his mind for one awful moment. Because surely that could be the only explanation. You’d almost died. He’d almost failed you. How could you possibly find any sort of… levity… in that?

But then, your hands on his face. Soft. Cool. Just like before. And your voice, whispering a word that damned as much as it uplifted. 

Only now no madness blunted their devastating gentleness.

Taliesin squeezed his eyes shut as he had then. The loss of sight did nothing to dull the sensation of your willing touch against his face. The sound of your awed voice in his ear.

Has anyone ever touched me like that? Spoken to me like that?

Something hazy and vague, buried beneath layers of indoctrination, told him yes. Someone had. Long, long ago. His chest ached with a longing for which he had no name.

It sickened him to know he’d surrendered to it.

I only wished to comfort you. 

A paltry lie, even to himself. You had not asked for more. Had not pressed against him like you did the previous night, seeking security in his arms. No.

This time he’d leaned into you.

And no Rage, no madness, no temporary lapse in faculties could excuse his actions. His weakness. His shameful, selfish desire for an intimacy he did not deserve and could never ask for. 

Taliesin pressed a gauntleted fist to his forehead.

What have I done?

***

The crackling fire did little to soothe the chill settling deep in your soul. 

Taliesin had not spoken in hours. He’d been gentle, always gentle, as he led you from the river’s edge to the base of the rocky, forested hillside sloping upward toward the mountains. Waiting for you as you hobbled on bandaged feet, canvas poncho heavy with rapidly cooling river water. Directing you around the roughest patches of ground. Pausing just long enough to ensure you ate and drank.

It seemed like mere moments before he discovered a boulder nearly his height with a hollow worn into its base. A hollow just big enough for you to huddle in. He’d then knelt and begun to hack out what you soon guessed was a firepit with his huge knife. You’d tried to be of use, limping out to search for firewood near the trees. One glance had sent you back into your little hollow.

Not in fear. You didn’t fear him. But the look of concern in those golden eyes inspired more obedience than the old terror ever could. Besides, if you complied, perhaps he would forgive your shocking boldness of hours prior.

Hugging your knees tight to your chest, you stared into the crackling flames. The moment next to the river replayed over and over in your mind.

What had you been thinking?

You hadn’t. That was the only explanation. Exhaustion, the euphoria at surviving once again, the sheer relief of putting another obstacle between you and the horrors behind, it made you reckless. 

You cringed.

Your eyes flicked to Taliesin, standing with his back to you on the opposite side of the fire. A monolithic sentinel in battered armor.

He’d killed people before your eyes in ways no mortal man could have. He’d clawed his way through madness. Even the way he moved screamed something you’d been willfully ignoring for far too long.

Not human.

Not a monster either. Not like those cannibals. And not like… Him.

But still not human. More than human.

And yet you’d babbled to him about your childhood. You’d asked questions. You’d touched him. Not to pull him from madness, but simply because you’d wanted to.

An Angel of the Emperor. A real one. A chosen warrior spoken only in the passed down legends of village elders, or the sermons of wandering holy men and women. Someone to be revered and respected.

But not befriended. Not poked and prodded by someone… someone like me.

You pressed your face into your knees. 

I don’t deserve his kindness.

Tears welled. Everything you thought you’d buried clawed its way back to the surface of your mind. The mark carved into your back pulsed with remembered pain. The thin golden wire around your throat, almost forgotten until this moment, seemed to tighten.

“You are mine now, pet. Sweetly ruined, deliciously debauched. MINE FOR ETERNITY.”

Hands, hands on you, and worse than hands. Everywhere. Always. Corrupting. Fouling. Unclean in a way no river could ever cleanse.

And I dared touch him. Him! 

***

Distance. Distance would be his salvation.

Or so Taliesin told himself. All the rest of that day. Not allowing himself to speak to you, or even look too long in your direction. Because if he did, if he gave into that longing, he would be lost. And you with him.

Did I forget my curse? The torment I am doomed to bring down upon any I grow close to?

As he scouted the terrain, found a defensible position, and prepared it for the long night, he forced himself to remember every person he’d failed. Every Battle Brother he’d watched cut down. Every civilian refugee who’d slipped from his grasp. Every serf child he’d failed to save.

How many times must I learn the same lesson?

The sun set. He stared into the growing darkness, the heat from the fire radiating against his back. He’d promised you rest. And he would fulfill his promise.

As a guardian.

As a sentinel.

As a protector.

Nothing more. 

His fists tightened on the hilts of his combat knife and chainsword as he methodically analyzed every moment since he’d found you. He’d let himself grow too close, too fast. He saw that now, and the shame ate at him.

The foul Mark he’d seen on your back burned behind his eyelids. You did not speak of what was done to you. But you screamed words in your sleep, muttered stilted phrases when your eyes went vacant and haunted. And he knew.

He’d seen the wreckage those abominations made of human bodies, human souls. Even if outwardly you looked undamaged, he could only imagine the scarring within. Sometimes he wished he could still feel the raw terror he saw in you. If only to know how best to soothe it.

No. No! Damn it all, Lamenter! 

You needed something he could not provide. Could not let himself provide. Not even if he wanted to. Not even if he ached to. Not even if your touch, your voice, had beaten back the Black Rage itself. 

Why? Why you? 

Taliesin’s mind drifted to dangerous places. 

There were rumors. Whispers spoken between only the most trusting of brothers. Whispers that other Chapters allowed their brethren certain… eccentricities. Bonds between Astartes and mortals that went deeper than mere fondness or even friendship.

He wanted to turn around. He wanted to look at you. Were you sleeping peacefully? Did you need anything? Did you need… him?

Bile rose in the back of his throat. He bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, embracing the pain.

I deserve it for such thoughts. 

I deserve it for my selfishness.

I DESERVE IT.

Then you cried out, the sob of anguish shredding his defenses with all the force of an orbital bombardment. 

He went to you.

He could not stop himself.

***

The ring pulsed with your anguish, and his eyes rolled in their sockets at the sensation. He felt his body responding. The delicious ache of anticipation as he remembered all the agonizing art he and you had crafted together. 

Your every scream a symphony.

Your every convulsion a ballet.

The masterworks he’d painted across your skin had made his brothers weep with envy. Some had not been content with a mere share in your delectable flesh whenever he felt generous. Some had tried to claim you for their own. 

His muse.

His masterpiece.

His beloved Pet.

HIS.

The runes on his fangs twisted as he bared them to the disgustingly clear air. His tongue lolled, forked end writhing as he let loose a sibilant hiss.

Those who dared challenge him took their proper places in his Gallery. Their covetous forms sculpted and shaped into perversions far more artistic. He even allowed a few to keep their minds, locked in eternal awareness of their new purpose.

To please him.

The highest purpose any being could fulfill.

The runes on his fangs pulsed, a shockwave running down his spine and igniting each and every one of his augmented nerve endings. He gasped and laughed as he amended his thoughts.

“The highest purpose, save to dwell eternally in your service, oh Dark Prince.”

The agony shifted into a caressing torment of a far pleasanter kind. He sighed, finally deigning to take notice of his surroundings.

The primitive little village rested at the bottom of the hill. It’s primitive little people just settling in for the night. He heard mothers hushing anxious children, telling them no monsters lurked beneath beds or in the shadows. 

Telling them they were safe.

His Gallery was no more. So much beautiful agony lost when the crude loyalists rammed their ship. But as long as there were souls in the galaxy to mold like bloody clay, he could begin again.

He would come for you soon. Pull you back into his loving embrace. Let you watch as he transformed whoever had dared steal you into a glorious amalgamation of agony and ecstasy. The highlight of his new Gallery.

Perhaps he would then, finally, relieve you of the burden of sentience.

His plush lips pursed at that.

“No. Perhaps not.”

He liked you aware. He found few things lovelier than doomed resistance. It was why he’d chosen you in the first place, after all.

But that could wait. Grass withered beneath him as he slithered down the hillside toward the village. 

For now, he saw a blank canvas in need of a Master’s hand.

“Indeed.” He eyed the fast-flowing water. “And yet, this is the only place I’ve found that could reasonably be considered a ford.” He glared at the water again. “Though I do not see how a pack of ill-equipped mortals could cross it.”

“It was probably lower when they did.” You studied the river through drooping eyelids. “It must have rained upstream… or maybe this is snowmelt.”

Taliesin blinked down at you. He still could not accustom himself to your newfound willingness to speak to him. And touch him. His arms remembered your negligible weight. You’d slept in them off and on as he carried you through the night.

His fingers flexed in his gauntlets as he resisted the illogical urge to scoop you up again. Instead, he refocused on the river.

“You are experienced in this type of terrain?”

“Mmmhmm.”

The soft, sleepy sound hit him like a punch from a power fist. 

For the love of Sanguinius, Lamenter! Control yourself!

“There was a river like this about a day’s journey from my village. Mama and I would travel there sometimes to dig for pearl mussels. Really, she’d dig and I’d swim.”

Smiling. You were smiling.

The words spilled free before he could stop them. “There were no bodies of water such as this where I was born.”

Why am I…? Of what possible use…?

You glanced up at him. “Where… where were you born?”

He blinked. 

Smoke. There was always smoke. An acrid, chemical cloud that burned my eyes. And the thunder of machines. And corroded, metal towers that rose up, up, up. I was small then. So very small. That place was called….

“I… cannot remember.”

***

He looked so lost when he said it. 

Such a strange thing to think of an Angel of the Emperor. For surely Taliesin was a true Angel, and not like… Him. 

Do Angels ever look like lost children?

The remnants of blood drying in flakes around his mouth and down his neck made the thought all the more ridiculous. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog from your mind. You’d slept some in his arms, true. But not nearly enough to rid you of exhaustion.

Another yawn all but cracked your jaw.

“We will cross, and then we will rest, Little Cat. I swear it.”

You nodded. You trusted him. A mad thing to do, perhaps, especially given the previous night’s events. But still, you trusted him. 

Or maybe I’m just too tired to do anything else.

The frothing water called to you. You remembered swimming. Diving for shells in the warm, salty shallows as the fishermen cast their nets. Collecting water lilies in the ponds that dotted the Fangwood. And, of course, playing in the river as your mother dug for pearls.

Mama always used to say if I wasn’t up a tree I was under the water.

Taliesin glanced toward you again. Your eyes widened when you realized you’d spoken the words aloud. 

What else have I been saying?!

These memories were precious. Things you’d locked away inside your mind where even… He… couldn’t reach them. Treasures to be guarded, hoarded, and never, never shared. 

Until now.

You dug your fingers into the wet grass, feeling the cool sensation of real dirt on your skin. It did little to stem the rising tide of panic. You felt your heart begin to pound, found yourself gasping for breath.

“Oh no… oh no…!”

“Little Cat?”

They’re all I have left!

“Easy now.”

They’ll fade now, I know they will!

The ground shook as Taliesin took a knee next to you. A hand, somehow still hesitant for all its size and power, settled upon your shoulder. You jerked at the touch.

“Stay with me.”

You latched onto that voice, that deep, smooth voice, like an anchor in a hurricane. His armor felt warm beneath your fingers as you clung to it. 

“I am here.”

He’s here. Taliesin’s here. He won’t take my memories from me.

The thought snapped you back to the present. The roar of water. The warmth of sunlight. The weight of a gauntlet on your shoulder. 

Your breathing evened. You stared up into golden eyes.

They’re safe with him. I’m safe with him.

***

Taliesin listened to your heartbeat slow, felt the minute shift in pressure as you relaxed into his touch. He didn’t know what had triggered your sudden terror. 

What did I do wrong?

Had he moved too quickly? Said the wrong thing? He wracked his brain for some turn of phrase that might have alarmed you. 

Or… did you think of last night?

Bringing his hand to his face, he felt the tackiness of dried blood upon his skin. Shame stabbed at him. 

Fool!

Striding toward the bank of the river, he knelt down and cupped a palmful of water before scrubbing it vigorously across his skin. The scent of rehydrated blood made something dark and thirsty flicker to life inside him. Swallowing a mouthful of saliva, he crushed the feeling without mercy.

Never again will you see me like that. NEVER.

“...Taliesin?”

“A moment, Little Cat.” He scrubbed until he could no longer smell the iron tang. 

“Are you all right?”

If you had wrapped your little hands around his primary heart you could not have had a greater impact. He staggered to his feet, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying. 

For the love of the Primarch, cease flailing about like an Aspirant after his first surgery!

“I am… well.” Breathing deeply, he turned to face you once more. “I calculate the water will rise to nearly chestplate height on me. I will need to carry you again.”

You nodded and stood. He steadied you when you swayed slightly, wincing.

“Do your feet yet pain you?”

“A little.” You reached up and touched a spot on your shoulder. “And this is still sore.”

Not for the first time, Taliesin wished he had a fraction of an Apothecary’s knowledge. Those honored brothers of his Chapter often knew how best to treat the mortals under their care.

“The Outpost will have medical supplies.”

I hope.

You lifted your arms. This time he understood the gesture, cradling you close to his chestplate. Some knot of tension deep within him relaxed with you back in his embrace. Safe.

“Hold on to me.”

You nodded. “Look out for submerged rocks.”

He felt his mouth curve into a smile. “Your superior knowledge of such things is welcome, Little Cat.”

You ducked your head, but he swore he saw your cheeks change hue.

That is… a positive thing for mortals… is it not?

Turning, he stepped into the flood.

***

You gasped as icy water rose to lap at your dangling feet. Spray drove into your eyes, blinding you. The roar of the water drowned out every other sound.

You loved it.

It’s cold and fresh and clean, clean, clean.

A small, mad part of you wanted to let go of Taliesin and dive into the rushing depths. Not in the way you’d considered while being hunted the past night. Not for the release of death. To regain something from your childhood you’d thought stolen from you forever.

Taliesin walked on. You marvelled at his steadiness against the rushing torrent. The sheer power of him standing resolute against nature’s might. You swore the river’s voice took on a note of annoyance as your Giant in Yellow Armor walked on. Utterly unbothered.

The thought made you smile. Then laugh.

Taliesin’s head jerked down toward you so fast you swore you heard his vertebrae creak. Your breath caught at the look in his golden eyes. As if the sound of your laughter was something to be marveled at.

The intensity of that look made your cheeks burn once more.

Laughing… blushing… I didn’t realize I could still do these things.

And yet. With every step he took, you felt the horrors slipping farther behind. The weight that had lived in your chest for so long lightened. You could almost forget that, not five minutes before, you’d almost drowned in the thought of losing your cherished memories. 

In the sunlight and the spray it seemed so silly now.

Stretching out a hand, you dipped it into the water. The half-healed scabs on your skin stung. But you endured it for the sheer pleasure of watching the grime finally wash away. You shouldn’t bathe here, you knew. The water was too fast, too deep. Every lesson from your childhood encouraged caution around such places.

But, oh, you wanted to. 

“Hold on, Little Cat.”

Is there… amusement… in his voice?

A lingering unease flared in your stomach. Old, awful memories of other amused voices pressed against the fragile walls you’d built in your psyche. This time, you fought back. You refused to let the fear overwhelm you.

He is not like… Him.

He’s not.

He’s NOT.

Gathering your courage, you smiled up at him. He smiled back. It felt… right.

Then a growling, grinding noise cut through the river’s roar. You tensed. The sound triggered something from your memory. Old warnings from leathery-skinned men and women who’d spent their lives by the water. 

More things that fish are swept along by a river in flood.

You opened your mouth to shout a warning. Too late.

The boulder, half the size of Taliesin, reared out of the water like a breaching sea monster. He pivoted his body to take the blow against his shoulder. 

CRUNCH.

The next thing you knew, icy waves closed over your head.

***

“NO!”

You were gone. Gone. Just like that. One moment in his arms, the next…!

With a grunt he shoved the great chunk of rock to one side, listening to it grind and roll its way further down the river. Then he swung his arms wide. It had only been a few seconds. You couldn’t have been pulled far.

A desperate lie.

The speed of the current… the volume of water… the weight of your body….

“LITTLE CAT!”

He should have seen this coming. He’d allowed himself to become distracted. You’d laughed, and all of a sudden the world had narrowed to your face looking up at him. On the battlefield such loss of focus would have gotten the both of you killed.

Perhaps it has already-

He strangled the thought in its infancy.

A more fanciful man might have thought the river roared in triumph as he flailed about. Might have grown to hate the non-sentient geographical feature as some being of malice actively trying to take you from him. 

Taliesin told himself he was not so foolish.

A step taken with too much haste and he went down on one knee. The water spilled over into his gorget. Another time he might have enjoyed the icy shock of it against his skin. Now he struggled back to his feet.

The water hampered his senses. He could not see you, could not hear you. Even your scent had been washed away.

Failure. I failed you. 

Another step.

You trusted me. Smiled at me.

He raked his hands through the water.

And I could not even hold on to you.

“Tal… Taliesin-”

The choked gurgle had him whipping around. There. Yards downstream and growing farther away by the second. A pale hand waved.

The Lamenter charged.

He’d never swum before. Didn’t know any Astartes who could while fully armored. The rushing water played against his balance in odd ways, but at least now both he and it travelled in the same direction. Taliesin became another boulder tossed in its flow.

When he could blink the water from his eyes, he saw you were keeping your head above the surface. 

Good. That is good. Mortals cannot hold their breath for long.

“Grab my hand!”

The current tossed you, keeping you from him. Taliesin snarled.

It will not win. I will not let it have you!

A powerful lunge and your soft fingers curled around his gauntlet. Taliesin yanked you up and over his shoulder, only then realizing the current had carried the two of you close to the bank. Just a few more steps!

He slammed a hand down on soft turf. Then another. One mighty heave and he sprawled on the grass, you slipping from his shoulder to lay beneath him. 

To his surprise, Taliesin found himself panting with exertion.

Either I am in greater need of rest and sustenance than I believed, or the river was truly a worthy opponent.

He pushed such thoughts aside and focused on your sodden form laying beneath him.

“Little Cat, are you-?”

You were laughing.

You didn’t understand why you weren’t afraid. 

“Taliesin, please….”

Please, what?

You found yourself inching toward him, reaching out again. The first person you’d voluntarily touched in so long. The remnants of his heat still lingered in your fingertips.

His head hung low. His features veiled in shadow.

“Do not… come near….”

The voice sounded forced through clenched teeth. You hesitated, mind spinning.

I could run. 

The cannibalistic tribespeople were dead, slaughtered. Their limbs lay scattered all around you, blood soaking the ground. You felt no pity.

They were monsters.

A chill breeze ruffled your sweat-matted hair. You heard the rustle of branches beneath the everpresent rumble of the river and strained your eyes in search of the treeline.

I could run.

Your feet ached. Your shoulder stung where the spear blade had creased it. A thousand bruises throbbed. But you could make it. Pain had never stopped you before.

“Sanguinius….”

The rasp dragged your attention back to the struggling giant.

“Father… aid me…!”

He’d crumpled onto his stomach, face pressed to the dirt. His hands stretched out above his head, fingers still clawing and twitching. He looked so… broken.

Something in you shifted. The same something that had made you take his bloody face in your hands after seeing him massacre people like vermin. Something warm and fierce. Something you didn’t realize yourself capable of feeling anymore.

Ignoring his words, you crept closer, crawling past empty-eyed corpses to your giant’s side. He didn’t seem to register your presence as you crouched near his head. Soft curls of steam rose from his armor into the cool night air. You heard him panting in between muttered prayers.

“Taliesin.”

Your hand rested against his golden hair.

***

SLAUGHTER. MURDER. VENGEANCE.

No… wait….

VENGEANCE. BLOOD.

It’s not… I’m not….

VENGEANCE. VENGEANCE. VENGEANCE.

“NO!” 

Taliesin opened his mouth and bit the dirt beneath his face in an effort to dull the ache in his fangs. To rid his tongue of bloody ambrosia. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, terrified of what he’d see if he opened them. 

The Arch Traitor?

The Broken Angel?

Or… you.

Little Cat.

You’d touched him with your soft little hands. Said his name with your soft little voice. He clung to those memories like a man struggling not to fall over a cliff. 

You looked at me at my most monstrous… and did not run.

His whole body shuddered as another wave of madness clawed at his psyche. His hearts beat against his fused ribcage. He bit deeper into the ground, fingers clawing. Rage threatened like a flamer held inches above a lake of promethium.

The Rage.

“Sanguinius… please… no….”

Not as prevalent amongst his brethren as amongst their Blood Angel cousins. He’d only witnessed it once.

I remember… Verus… the orks killed that civilian woman in front of him… his eyes went black… he stabbed his own Apothecary… the Chaplains dragged him away screaming.

He couldn’t become… that.

SLAUGHTER.

He had to hold on.

BLOOD.

For you. 

VENGEANCE.

I… can’t… rage. Rage. RA-

A soft touch. Again, the feeling of cool water. His hearts slowed. The screaming inside his skull quieted. 

Small fingers brushed through his hair with a gentleness that made a lump form in his throat. Almost unconsciously, he pushed into the touch. It didn’t pull away. The fingers moved from the crown of his head down to the back of his neck. Then again. And again. Each motion dousing the fire in his veins a little more.

This… is impossible.

But he didn’t want it to stop. He lifted his head from the ground, spitting chunks of dirt, and inhaled. Your scent filled all three of his lungs. No longer sour with terror. Almost… sweet. He heard your soft pants, the beat of your single heart, the rush of blood in your veins. 

Then….

“Taliesin.”

The whimper slipped out before he could bite it back.

***

He won’t hurt me.

You knew this. You knelt beside a bloody giant amidst a killing field of dismembered corpses and still knew. 

He’d never hurt me.

He’d come for you. Your bloody angel. He’d slain monsters for you. Gone mad for you. And even then, never, never hurt you. And now you had your fingers in his hair, petting as you’d once petted your little brothers’ heads to help them sleep. 

And you were not afraid.

“Taliesin.”

You didn’t know what else to say. But he seemed to respond to his name on your lips. You stiffened in shock when he pressed into your hand and whimpered like a puppy. A massive, blood-soaked puppy. The sheer nerve of the thought almost made you laugh. The strange, warm feeling in your heart kept growing.

More words finally came as you knelt there, the moisture from the ground soaking through your tarp poncho. 

“Please get up.”

He’d stopped shaking. Stopped groaning and clawing at the dirt. But he wouldn’t look at you. The first hints of fear crept back into your soul as you wondered if his eyes still burned black. The thought of it made your stomach clench, even though you didn’t understand why.

“I need you.” 

What if he doesn’t get up? 

The thought made your heart hurt. Your gentle Giant in Yellow Armor had saved you… but what had it cost him? Was this… this madness… your fault?

“I’m sorry, Taliesin.” Moisture blurred your vision. “I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I didn’t understand. I’m so-”

“Little… Cat….”

The halting rumble made you gasp. You looked down to see eyes staring back up at you. Golden eyes. 

“Did they… hurt you?”

The tears finally overflowed. For the first time since your captivity, you let yourself weep. Great, wracking sobs that shook your frame. Beside you, the ground shook as the Astartes heaved himself onto his knees with a groan. Even on his knees he towered over you. And still you knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

You wept harder.

“Little Cat?” The voice sounded alarmed now. “What-”

You pressed against his cracked, bloodstained chestplate. The heat of him surrounded you and you snuggled closer, wanting nothing more than to burrow into this place of safety. His grunt of surprise resonated through you. Then you felt hands, massive, armored hands, slowly settle against your back.

“Is this… acceptable?”

“Y-yes.” You sobbed.

“Oh.”

He said nothing more for a long while. Just let you lean against him. Just held you, fingers barely brushing your skin as if afraid of their own strength. Just let you cry until the tears ran dry and you felt hollow.

“Forgive me.” The quiet words made you look back up into his face.

Sorrow. Exhaustion. Guilt.

His eyes slid away from yours at first, then came back to you as if determined to do penance. 

“I was wrong to leave you. I apologize.”

You blinked damp lashes up at him. “No… I… I left you.”

He closed his eyes with a pained expression. “And I should not have let you. Please, Little Cat, forgive me.”

You couldn’t help yourself. He looked too tragic, too noble, blood coating his face and all. Your fingers brushed his lower jaw. 

“You’re not like… Him… are you?”

***

Him?

Taliesin’s body screamed, every muscle strained by the fire of the Rage. Or… whatever his temporary madness had been. Surely, he could not have fallen completely. No one came back from that. 

Did they?

He pushed the thought aside and refocused on you, curled against his chest like the felines he’d named you after, tears drying on your cheeks. Some distant, long-buried part of himself purred at the feeling. He pushed that aside too.

“To whom do you refer?”

You looked away, body stiffening, and he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake. He didn’t want you to leave his arms. Didn’t want you to stop saying his name. His hearts seized at the thought of it.

“I should not have-”

You gestured to your own back. To the carved mark he knew burned beneath your clothing. 

“...Him.”

Oh.

“No.” The word came out with more growl than he’d intended, but you didn’t flinch. “I am not.”

You didn’t respond at first, leaning against his abdomen. He didn’t move his hands from your shoulders. 

Then, in a voice that strained even his enhanced hearing, “I’m sorry. For everything.”

… what?

“You did nothing wrong.”

Your laugh was bitter. He hated it.

“I did everything wrong. I am… wrong.”

Taliesin opened his mouth. Then closed it again. He could do many things. He could disassemble and reassemble a bolter with his eyes closed. He could coordinate a shock strike on an enemy stronghold. He could cobble barricades out of wreckage and hold when the tides of enemies seemed endless.

But he could not find the words to refute a statement that often echoed inside his own skull.

All he could do was pull you closer. You gasped, and he again wondered if he’d done wrong. But then you softened against him, pressed into him, trusted him.

They couldn’t stay here. No cover. No shelter. The bodies would draw predators, and it was unwise for him to remain near so much spilled blood. They should continue on to the river ford. Assuming the now-headless tribeswoman hadn’t lied and there really was a ford. A problem for another day.

As the first gray hints of dawn began to lighten the sky to the east, Taliesin found himself hesitating. 

What if you come to your senses and never let me touch you again?

An unworthy thought. You were his duty. An innocent to protect. He had done so when you hated him, he would continue to do so… whatever you thought of him now. Touching was irrelevant. He could not fathom why he would desire such a thing.

Or why it was so difficult to take his hands off you.

You are safer when I hold you.

The excuse paled considering he’d just gone mad and torn a dozen people apart in front of you. 

“Can you walk, Little Cat?”

You shifted, putting your weight on each foot in turn. Your soft gasp of pain had him reaching for his chainsword before he thought better of it. 

“I… I think my feet are bleeding again.”

He knew. He could smell it. Pushing to his own feet with a barely stifled grunt, he reached down to lift you into his arms. Then stopped.

“Would you be… displeased… if I carried you?”

He remembered the first time. You’d shrieked and pounded against his armor with fists and feet. And the second time… well. You’d been unconscious then. But you’d reacted with the same outcry when you’d awoken in his arms.

This time, you merely cocked your head, as if thinking. Then you raised your arms toward him. After approximately a minute of you standing in that position, you huffed softly.

“Taliesin?”

“Yes?”

“You may carry me.”

“Oh! Good.”

***

Normally he enjoyed pain. 

Long years of service to She Who Thirsts had taught him the exquisite art of finding pleasure in even the most excruciating circumstances. Especially the most excruciating circumstances.

But this… was growing boring.

With an annoyed sigh, he wrenched the jagged fragment of hull from his abdomen, taking some small delight in the sweet sound of metal parting muscle. He frowned at the jagged wound left behind even as it began to close on its own. 

Crude.

Boorish.

Un-artistic.

If the shattered drop pod he found himself in didn’t seem on the verge of implosion, he would have taken his time. While he preferred crafting others’ flesh, his own would do in a pinch.

But now, alas, was not the time for artistic pursuits.

Needle-like nails probed the buckled hatch above him, finding the weak points. There.

A precise blow and the door cracked like a skull beneath his hands. He gripped the sides of the opening with his primary limbs, his secondary steadying him as he climbed up and out. Blue sky stretched overhead. What grass remained unburnt by his descent was a vibrant emerald green. In the distance, forested mountains swayed in the golden dawnlight.

Scarlet lips curled away from fangs carved with Slaaneshi runes. 

“How disgustingly natural.”

Opalescent eyes falling to half-mast, he stretched out his mind like tentacles. Ah, there was life on his primitive rock. Perhaps enough to provide some meager entertainment as he prepared the rituals necessary to take him back to the Warp-

Oh.

Ohhhhhh.

That soul.

He knew that soul.

His laughter flayed the air around him. Birds fell from the skies to writhe on the withering grass until their bones shattered. A passing simian tore its own eyes from its skull. 

He didn’t notice.

His gaze focused on one of his many rings. One that pulsed with a soft, red light. Like a heartbeat.

“So you yet live, sweet pet?” A long, forked tongue tasted the air. “Deliciousss.”

A leap. Cold. Deep and dark and still.

Whatever burned inside you that had kept you alive until now rebelled again. Your head twisted in the opposite direction, fighting to see the treeline you knew could only be a short distance away.

Knew? Hoped, more like.

Could make a break… hide… climb….

From monsters who hunted their own kind?

The futility of it brought a sob to your burning throat. 

“Tal… Talie….” The name wouldn’t come. 

He wouldn’t come.

Tears ran down your cheeks, chilling in the night air. 

I left. Left him. Despite all he’d done. I left.

Stupid.

Worthless!

Still, your lips curled soundlessly around the name. Your one fading hope of salvation as you ran on and on into the night.

***

Xavier never broke.

The techpriest, as he called himself, carried a spark within him, it seemed. Something that clung to life in the most soul-crushing of circumstances. And you found it ignited something inside you as well.

Whenever… He… left you for any length of time, Xavier came. His jerking mechanical gate and metal face became sources of comfort rather than fear. Sometimes he brought things. Odd little packages of paste-like food that didn’t make your head spin. Water free of concoctions that lit your blood on fire. 

Once, a scrap of mostly-unstained fabric he draped over your bare body. You knew you couldn’t keep it for long, but you relished the brief covering nonetheless.

He asked for nothing. But you gave what you could. Whispers of things you’d overheard from… Him. Most you didn’t understand. But Xavier seemed interested in the strange place names and technical terms you struggled to pronounce. 

Once you feared he’d been killed, when he didn’t come for an extended stretch of time. You didn’t know how long exactly. Time had long since stopped making sense. When he finally staggered through the door, your heart leapt… then dropped.

They’d been playing with him.

Sparks shot from the place his left arm had been. His scarlet robe was torn and stained with oil and… other things. He moved with an even stiffer gait than normal, wheezing through his mouth-grill with each ginger step. 

He didn’t speak. Just found a spot near you and stood. Every now and again you swore you heard a whimper through the hissing static of his mask.

For the first time, you reached out. You brushed against his still-flesh right hand. 

He said nothing. Didn’t even pivot toward you. But his fingers curled around yours. 

You stayed like that for a long while in shared misery, listening to the sickening symphony of screams and laughter in the distance. 

Somehow, it made it more bearable.

***

Whoosh- thunk!

Something sliced a line of fire across your shoulder. You snapped out of your memories just in time to veer around the quivering spear shaft buried in the turf before you. Hot liquid dripped down your back. Touching your shoulder, you brought your fingers to your face and saw red. 

Saw.

The torchlight! It surrounded you once more, making shadows writhe like daemons. Howls rose behind you. Closer than ever before. You inhaled the sour reek of clotted blood and sweat and filth. 

Too close.

Your lungs burned fiercer than ever. It felt as though each step landed on hot coals. You weren’t going to last much longer.

Maybe… I don’t deserve to.

***

The Lamenter pounded through the darkness like a true avenging angel. The thought brought a bitter laugh to his lips.

Angels. That is what the mortals call us. The Emperor’s Angels.

He deserved no such reverence. Sanguinius Himself, in all his compassion, would turn his face away in shame could he but see this failure that once called him “Father”. 

Failure.

Failure.

Failure.

The word pounded in his head with every step. In it, he heard the voices of every soul he’d tried to save. Brothers. Serfs. Civilians. The children were the worst. He swore he heard their sobbing little voices chanting the loudest.

Why didn’t you save us? Why?

He forced his battered armor faster. Every now and again an alarming crack rent the night as something gave way. But he didn’t dare slow.

Because he, Taliesin, the Lucky Lamenter, had sunk to a new low.

I gave you to them. Offered you up like a sacrifice to beasts.

A groan he could not stifle echoed through the moonless darkness. He remembered the depth of your liquid eyes as you stared up at him. No mortal he’d ever encountered before had eyes like that. So full of sorrow and terror.

But also impossible resolve. A strength to survive the horrors of this galaxy. A spark of spirit refusing to be snuffed. The spirit of a Lamenter.

I could drown in those eyes and be grateful.

The strange thought sent an ache through his hearts so strong it made him gasp aloud. He didn’t have time to wonder why before the crushing weight of shame dropped upon his ceramite-clad shoulders once more.

You survived so much…

… until I cursed you.

“Forgive me, Little Cat.” He rasped to the night air as it whipped past. “Forgive me.”

***

The next time you saw Xavier. He seemed almost manic.

“Slave-Unit!”

It took monumental effort to shift your body toward him on the mound of soiled cushions, even more to force your burning eyes open.

You forced his name past a tongue thickened by… His… latest concoction. “Xav…?”

“This unit ex-express-sses grat-tit-tude f-for Slave-Unit’s in-in-forma-tion-tion.”

His voice hadn’t been quite right since the incident. But even through the crackles and hisses and occasional spark, you heard excitement.

“What…?”

“This her-heret-tic-tic-al ves-vessal will be enter-enter-entering the Mater-rium in a mat-matter of stan-stan-dard hours.”

“I… don’t….”

He bent his clattering body closer. “This unit has com-com-com… sp-spoken… with a less cor-rup-ted-ted shut-shuttle’s mach-chine s-s-s-spirit. A w-waaaaAAAAA-”

A metallic shriek made you clap your hands over your ears, your abused muscles screaming at the sudden movement. You watched through watering eyes as Xavier adjusted something at this throat.

“A-a-polog-ies.”

With a fair amount of awkward clanking, he managed to lower himself to his knees beside you, human hand reaching out to hover over your face. For one moment, his voice came through clearly.

“A way of escape.”

He left you then. Hobbling away on lower limbs that leaked oil, promising to return when the time came. And you rejoiced.

A way off this ship of horrors.

A way to escape… Him.

You managed to clamber to your feet, pulling sodden cloth over your bare form in defiance of… His… commands. You whispered prayers of thanks to the Emperor who’d finally, finally heard your pleas.

On shaking legs you wobbled across a floor that squelched, toward the door. You’d be ready when Xavier came back. Even if you had to crawl. You’d be ready. 

A way out. A way out! A way OUT-

The door opened.

He… entered.

All sharp angles and porcelain skin and filigreed blades. A sinuous body beautiful enough to send less-favored mortals blind and mad with poisoned ecstasy. You’d seen it too many times to count. 

He… looked at you… and knew.

“Ohhhhh, naughty pet. Just what have you been up to, hmmm?

The voice like silken needles flooded your nervous system. You never could remember what came next, only blurred colors… and spasming muscles… and screaming. So much screaming.

After an eternity you opened your eyes to see Xavier’s bloody face-plate propped up before you. Your raw throat couldn’t manage another sound. But something in your soul wailed.

“You told me so much, pretty pet. Such a good, loyal pet.”

Your fault.

You stared into the broken eye-lenses.

All your fault.

***

“I’m sorry.” You wept as your legs finally gave out beneath you. “I’m sorry!”

You hit the ground hard, curling into a ball as you skidded among the stones and moist dirt. It coated your skin. 

Filthy. 

I don’t deserve any better. 

The earth beneath your cheek trembled with approaching footsteps. The stench grew overwhelming. The cries took on the gleeful tone of ghouls about to sate their hunger. Torchlight glowed red as blood behind your eyelids.

The light inside you finally guttered out.

This is what I deserve.

For surviving. 

For daring to cling to defiled life when you should have sought the purity of death.

For betraying the only friend you had.

The tribespeople surrounded you now. You sensed their grasping, claw-like hands. Seconds away.

This is the Emperor’s justice.

You surrendered to it.

Then, a maddened roar split the night.

“HOOORRRRUUUUSSSS!”

***

Taliesin smelled the blood first. Then he saw you, in a crumpled heap on the ground. Surrounded by grinning, slavering animals in human form. They hooted and gibbered and waved their torches. 

You didn’t move.

Too late.

Failure.

Again.

Something in the Lamenter’s mind snapped.

Black and red swirled at the edges of his vision. Everything blurred, shifted, changed into a scene he’d never witnessed with his living eyes. 

A giant in black armor. The charred pelt of a wolf thrown over its shoulders. Scarlet eyes gleaming at Taliesin from its breastplate. And, crumpled at his feet, white wings stained with red… an Angel.

“HORRRUUUUSSSS!”

The howl drowned out even the revving of his chainsword. He didn’t remember triggering it. Didn’t remember charging. Didn’t care when his vision blurred again and a dozen pairs of bestial, but still mortal, faces stared back at him in horror. 

Vengeance.

Vengeance.

VENGEANCE!

The foe, Primarch or mortal, he no longer cared, scattered before him. Screams of laughter mingled with his roars of rage as he watched them try to run. The chainsword bit deep, bisecting three in one swipe. Then another. And another.

Limbs and heads flew in bloody sprays. He opened his mouth wide and lapped the fluid from the air. His vision flickered again, and he brought his weapon down on a cowering Primarch, splitting him from crown to crotch. 

“YOU WILL PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

Another flicker, and a mortal man stood before him. Some remnant of memory placed this one. This beast, leaning over the broken angel, filth-stained hands reaching out to corrupt its purity. He didn’t bother with the chainsword. His hand snapped out and caught the yowling creature around the throat. 

“How dare… how dare you try to touch….”

His fangs lengthened. For one second he relished the helpless terror in the mortal’s bloodshot eyes. Then he tore his throat out.

The chainsword was no longer in his hands. He cared not, leaping after each Primarch, or mortal, like a wolf among sheep. Tearing with hands and teeth alike. Guzzling the thick, red ambrosia. All the sweeter coming from a brutalized foe. 

Then… there were no more foes.

No more traitorous Primarchs.

No more scurrying beast-men.

He found himself standing in a ring of dropped torches, surrounded by nothing but carnage.

A sound behind him. He whirled, fangs bared and hearts eager for more slaughter. Only to see…

The Angel… lived?!

In an instant he crouched over the broken figure. The face filled his vision. Feminine. Perfect. The most beautiful he’d ever seen. Those eyes. 

Your eyes. 

This isn’t… she isn’t… I don’t….

Taliesin shook his head.. Something was terribly wrong with him. 

“I must… I need… oh, Sanguinius… I cannot-”

Hands pressed against his gore-splattered cheeks. He leaned into the touch with a whimper. 

Soft. So soft.

Then, a voice like cool water on the conflagration in his veins.

“...Taliesin?”

You had wanted to leave him. He’d read it in every taught line of your body, every longing glance toward the ragged tribespeople. He wondered that you hadn’t darted out from beneath his guarding arm and run for them at the earliest opportunity. 

He didn’t blame you.

Taliesin’s mind wandered back over his encounters with mortal civilians in his century and half of service. Agri-workers who’d abandoned their lumbering harvest machines and run shrieking at the mere sight of him and his brothers. Hive-dwellers panting like animals in their hovels, cowering against walls even as they crumbled under enemy bombardment. Refugee children sobbing into their mothers’ skirts, whimpering to be saved from the “yellow giants”. 

He’d never blamed them, either.

Smiles helped, he’d learned. The veterans among them said so, often cuffing younger Battle Brothers and barking at them to “stop glowering”. The expression felt so foreign in his younger days. Vague memories showed him a time when it had been natural, but it had taken years to convince his mouth to curve in such a way again without conscious effort.

And more than a few hours spent practicing in front of the nearest reflective surface.

Taliesin winced at the memory of being discovered grinning like an idiot at his own reflection. Veran had never let him live it down.

The Battle Brother mockingly patted Taliesin’s scarred cheek as they sat side by side in the descending Thunderhawk. “Smile, Taliesin! Let’s see if your luck holds today.”

His had. Veran’s hadn’t.

You didn’t seem to care for his smiles. Nor for his words of comfort. Even less for any offer of friendly touch. You’d all but hissed whenever he tried, eyes wide with the kind of terror he’d only ever seen in those poor souls with the misfortune to draw the Archenemy’s attention.

The joints in his gauntlets creaked as he clenched his fists.

The next time I sate my thirst for Traitor blood, it will be with your name as a battlecry upon my lips. I swear it!

He remembered then… you hadn’t told him your name.

The thought of shouting “Little Cat” in the midst of battle made him snort. 

But I will. For you.

Again, the overwhelming urge to look back. 

Were you safe?

Were you happy? 

Were they treating you well?

He slowed to a halt, eyes staring straight ahead, seeing nothing. Beside him, the river roared as if shouting a warning.

He needed to turn around. Needed to go back. Needed to make sure-

“NO.” He growled the word between gritted teeth. “It’s better this way.”

Keep moving.

So he did. Even as foreboding grew like a living thing in his chest with every step.

***

You’d made a mistake.

Huddled in the smoky dimness of one of the hide huts, you wrapped your arms around your knees and willed yourself smaller. 

Don’t look at me. Forget about me.

Laughter from outside made you jump. The men, and even a couple of the women, shrieked like the wild hogs in the Fangwood of your home world. You’d caught glimpses of them swigging from bone horns strapped to their belts. The scent alone made your stomach turn.

Mistake. Mistake. Mistake!

How your heart had soared when the Giant in Yellow Armor had stepped aside and allowed you to run toward your fellow humans. You’d forgotten the ache in your bandaged feet as you sprinted forward, expecting….

What?

A warm welcome? Open arms? Clean, human touch after so long amongst monsters?

Instead, they’d shied away from your outstretched hands. You’d stood there, in the center of a ring of narrowed, bloodshot eyes, and felt no less alone than you had before.

The burly woman gave broken directions in growled Low Gothic to the Giant in Yellow Armor. Then, you’d heard the heavy footsteps that had been your constant companion these past days move away.

And away.

And away.

Until the sound of rushing water drowned them completely.

You’d never looked up.

It should have been a relief. Instead, you felt a cold fist clench around your stomach. 

And the tribespeople closed in. 

With your eyes on the ground, you’d smelled them before you saw them. Sour. Feral. Almost animal. You’d tried to tell yourself hunters often smelled thus. But something in the reek made your skin crawl.

Instincts sharpened by years of terror had flared to life. But you’d told yourself you were being foolish. These were humans.

So you’d looked up, and tried to smile. 

The big man, the one who’d shouted at you and the Giant when you’d first come across the encampment, smiled back, baring blackened teeth. He’d lumbered forward, matted furs adding to his sheer bulk. You’d jerked back on instinct, only to stumble into another of the men who’d been standing behind you.

Hands like claws gripped your shoulders so hard it hurt. Wet breath huffed in your ear, the reek of old blood making you gag. A voice rasped something you did and didn’t understand at the same time. 

Before you could pull away, the first man exploded into action. Furs and tangled hair swung wildly as he barrelled past you and into the other man. The grasping hands were yanked away. You’d spun to see both men rolling on the wet grass, clawing and grappling, drool flinging from thick lips as they snarled. 

The other tribespeople shoved past you to surround the brawling pair. They’d jumped up and down, delight shining in their reddened eyes as they cheered. You’d stumbled backwards. 

Then you’d looked for the Giant in Yellow Armor. You didn’t know why. 

But he was gone.

Seconds later the burly woman appeared at your side and shoved you hard into one of the hide tents. You’d stumbled, falling to the floor. She’d made no move to help you, eyes roving over you with an oddly analytical expression.

Then she’d reached out and pinched your upper arm until you yelped.

“Thin.” She’d grunted, and stepped back outside, only to appear a few minutes later with a fistfull of some kind of dried meat.

“Eat.”

Hurling the strips into the dirt at your feet, she’d turned and left without another word, leaving you alone.

Alone.

That had been hours ago. There’d been an excited roar from the direction of the fight, a disturbing wet crunch, then sounds of growing revelry. You’d managed to choke down one portion of the meat before the sour taste made any more unbearable. The sunlight filtering in through the thinner segments of the hide faded, replaced by the red glow of fires.

Smoke trickled in through the hut’s flap. Your eyes and throat burned at the acrid fumes, but you tried not to cough. Tried not to make any noise at all.

Mistake. Mistake. Mistake!

You wished you’d stayed with the Giant in Yellow Armor. The truth of it stunned you. But you remembered the gentleness of his touch, even when you screamed and fought. The softness of his deep voice, even when you responded with icy silence. And those golden eyes….

Their image wouldn’t leave your mind. 

Soft. Warm. Sad.

You hadn’t let yourself think this way while in his company. Couldn’t let your guard down. Always expected the mask to drop. The pain to begin.

It never had.

He protected me. 

“...Taliesin.”

***

Taliesin came upon the ruined encampment just after sundown. His enhanced senses recognized the scent of scorched flesh long before the half-burned huts came into view. Smaller than the first encampment, only two huts, one dead firepit. Nestled against a short cliff well back from the riverbank.

He couldn’t have walked past without investigating if he’d tried.

The Lamenter read battle in the torn sod surrounding and between the huts. Several dark stains spoke of blood spilled. More blood than any mortal could lose and live. He felt it thick and metallic on his tongue, and something feral in him growled.

Another part of his damned Luck: the Thirst had never overcome him. 

He pushed it away and gripped the hilt of his chainsword. The surrounding underbrush crackled with the passing of the occasional small fauna. A few birds he took for scavengers circled high overhead. No unnatural stillness announcing the presence of a predator. 

Besides him, anyway.

Whatever had done this had come and gone.

Or, whoever had done this. Taliesin bent to observe a broken spear left laying in the mud. Dried red flakes encrusted its chipped point. His eidetic memory supplied an image of a near identical spear, shaken in the hands of the tribesmen he’d left behind earlier that day.

They would grapple with each other in the mud while the true horrors of the galaxy lurk just beyond their borders.

He shook his head and stood. He knew nothing of these primitive peoples’ lives. He should not be so quick to cast judgement. 

Plausible scenarios ran through his mind as he moved toward the smoking opening of the nearest hut. The stench of burned flesh grew stronger.

Perhaps these people attacked first.

Perhaps whoever destroyed them did so in self defense.

Perhaps they simply know no better.

Perhaps-

What he saw within the hut eradicated all scenarios in his mind but one.

Perhaps they are Emperor-forsaken MONSTERS.

And he’d left you among them.

***

“Slave-Unit, awaken. This unit has calculated the optimal time for escape protocols to commence, Omnissiah-willing.”

Your sleep-dulled mind struggled to process the tinny voice.

“Xavier…?”

“Awaken promptly. Danger threshold at 67% and rising.”

“I’m… tired….”

“73%. Awaken. 80%. Awaken! 85% AWAKEN!”

Your eyes snapped open just as a filthy hand covered your mouth. You bit down without thinking, sawing your teeth until you tasted blood. The Thing above you howled and jerked back. 

A haze shrouded the darkened air. Smoke filled your eyes with tears. But you heard the Thing snarling in a language you couldn’t understand, heard it lurch toward you once more. 

Suddenly, you were no longer human. You were cornered prey.

You lashed out with all four limbs, feeling the heels of your feet strike something that gave beneath them. The Thing wheezed. You swung both hands, fingers curled, and caught skin that tore beneath your nails. Another animal yowl.

Hands at your throat. Lifting. Hurling. Your back connected with the hide wall of the hut. You remembered now. Remembered where you were.

 Who you were with. 

Your vision cleared enough to see the big man, the one with the black teeth, lumber toward you. He stumbled, hunched over in the small space, a pain mingling with the rage on his face. Blood dripped from the scratches you’d unknowingly carved across his cheeks. 

His eyes reminded you of the beast who’d hunted you in the dark only a few days past. Feral. 

Hungry.

Panic flared bright and sharp behind your sternum. You couldn’t gather the air to scream. 

You scrabbled backward, pressing against the layered hide. The whole hut tilted at the sudden pressure. 

The man leaped at you, hands extended, a dark delight in his black eyes. You twisted, and he slammed into the curved wall. You heard something pop loose somewhere and the entire hut toppled onto its side. The man bellowed and thrashed. A flailing elbow caught your jaw. 

This time you tasted your own blood.

But the way out beckoned. You crawled forward as your assailant flopped and bellowed like a crippled seal behind you. Then you clambered to your feet, jaw already swelling, and stood in the red firelight.

A scream finally tore free of your throat.

Remnants of a revel lay scattered about you. Tribesmen and women draped over each other in barely conscious piles, horns of that foul-smelling liquid still clenched in stained fingers. The fire had been built to a roaring height, hissing as melted flat dripped into the flames from the roasting carcass impaled on a spear.

In that hellish light, you could make out the carcass’s shape. A shape no animal ever bore. 

A particular large gobbet of fat fell, making the flames roar up bright for a brief moment. You wished they hadn’t. The carcass’s face hadn’t yet been fully charred away.

You stared into the butchered features of the man who’d grabbed your shoulders earlier that day.

“Emperor… oh, Emperor… no…!”

Behind you, the collapsed hut jerked and convulsed and finally flew away, landing hard on a pair of inebriated revelers who moaned and snarled. You spun to see the big man rise up, firelight making him resemble one of the daemons you’d glimpsed in the worst moments of your captivity.

You understood the hunger in his eyes now.

So you ran.

Out of the firelight, into the darkness, using the sound of the river to guide you. You ran for your life yet again. 

The tribespeople howled in the dark like the beasts they were. Footsteps pounded after you. In your mind’s eye, you pictured rolling, bloodshot eyes and bared, broken teeth. 

You’d run from an Angel into the arms of Daemons. 

“TALIESIN!”

***

“NO!” 

The Lamenter’s eyes opened on ruin. He lay, half on scorched earth, half on twisted metal. Smoke filled his mouth and lungs and he realized the lower half of his helmet had been torn away. He tasted blood, his own.

The remains of the Flentes Angelum rained down all around him, burning meteors of metal and promethium. Explosions shook the ground. 

Secondary explosions only. This battle is over.

Chunks of armor fell away as he slowly regained control of his numbed limbs, lurching onto his knees. The remainder of his helm slid from his head and clattered to the metal grating. He stared down at the cracked red eye lenses.

A miracle it lasted this long.

Memory of his last moments aboard the voidship slowly trickled into his rattled skull. The Traitors had come out of nowhere, ripping into reality with wild screams of agonized noise that overwhelmed the old ship’s systems in seconds. Then… the boarding….

Taliesin tried to close his mind against visions of lavender-hued horror. Wide, fanged smiles. Monoliths of mutilated flesh and armor. Eyes bulging with agonized ecstasy. They’d flooded the corridors with vapors that turned the mortals into writhing, wailing beasts. 

He remembered Castor, an arming serf he’d known since his elevation to full Battle Brother. He remembered finding him giggling and weeping as he used a knife to-

Taliesin glanced down at the congealed blood on his cracked gauntlets and let the familiar wave of sorrow roll over him.

Forgive me, my friend. 

He’d fought alongside what remained of his company. They’d enacted a heavy toll, to no avail. Too many of them. Not enough Lamenters. The old story.

The Shipmaster had been right to order a ram.

Taliesin groaned as he rose to his feet. Burning fragments still trailed smoke across the sky above. Fires crackled amidst a debris field that stretched for miles. He glanced back at the remains of the drop pod and winced. 

I remember an impact before losing consciousness. We must have struck ship fragments on the way down.

“Nestor! Luciel!” His voice cracked. “Come!”

No reply. 

A sick dread filled his gut. “Brothers! We cannot remain here!”

Silence.

“No….”

Not again. Please, by the Great Angel, not again.

Dragging armored legs that suddenly seemed far too heavy, he stumbled up the twisted ramp. Smoke billowed from the pod’s interior. The rich tang of blood filled his nostrils. 

“Nestor… Luciel….” Taliesin fell to his knees. “My brothers….”

Why? Why do I always remain?

They called him Taliesin the Fortunate. The Lucky Lamenter. The Sole Survivor.

Alone… all alone… again….

Throwing his head back, he loosed a single, echoing wail as black grief consumed him.

***

You laughed.

It hurt. It hurt so much. Each acrid breath scraped knives across your insides. Something was broken in there. Something was always broken.

But still, you laughed.

I’m free!

You crawled on hands and knees out of the wreckage. Jagged metal cut into the palms of your hands, the skin on your knees. You cringed, but not at the sight of your own blood.

They’ll scar. Master hates scars! He’ll punish-

“Stop!” You forced yourself to keep going, keep crawling. “He is not my Master! He’s gone. Gone! I’m free. I am-”

What is my name?

Your heart seized. You grasped at the memory, struggling to hold onto it as it wriggled and slipped from your grasp like a live fish.

Fish. I lived in a fishing village, on the edge of the Fangwood.

I had a family. A mother, two brothers. 

We were happy. They called me-

You whispered your name into the smoky air as tears of relief flowed down your cheeks. 

“I’m still me. I’m still me.”

“Pretty pet. Sweet pet.”

You sucked in a breath and gagged on the taste of burnt flesh. Nearby, a twisted shard of panelling leaned against a section of voidship hull, creating a shadowed pocket. You scurried into it on all fours like an animal.

“He’s not here.” You pressed your bloodied fists to your temples, rocking back and forth. “It’s just in your head, just in-”

“Such a naughty pet, trying to run away. So ungrateful.”

You hated your whimpers.

“Stop….”

“I let you keep your sanity, and this is how you repay me?”

“No….”

“Where would you even go? No one will want you now, not after you’ve been… mine.”

You wanted to crawl out of your own skin. The skin he’d touched.

“That’s what you are, pet. What you will always be. MINE.”

The collar around your throat spiked with pain.

“NO! I WON’T!”

Desperate fury gave you strength. You leapt upright and ran, bare legs pumping, arms flailing. You ran like you had the day the twisted, screaming ships descended upon your village. The day the Emperor abandoned you to monsters.

The monsters had caught you then. Laughed as you clawed and bit and shrieked. They’d liked your defiance. 

He’d liked it.

You bared your teeth as you ran, leaping hunks of metal and charred chunks that might once have been flesh. You hoped one of those chunks was Him. 

I hope you burned. I hope it hurt every single second!

Pain ricocheted through your body with every step. You didn’t dare look down and see the state of your bare feet. You just ran. And ran. And ran. Through a field of wreckage that seemed never ending.

You laughed again. Open sky above. Real earth beneath. 

It’s been so long!

You didn’t care where you were going. As long as it was away. Away from chains and silks and screams and perfumes and long fingers and pale barbed tongues-

Something shifted beneath your right foot. Pain shot through your ankle. You cried out as you fell, tumbling down a mound of debris to lay, panting and shaking, at its base. Above you, the groan of tortured metal. The bent frame of a vehicle of some kind teetered on its side at the very top of the mound. You held your breath, relief flooding through you as it seemed to settle.

BOOM. 

The explosion shook your battered body like a ragdoll. You covered your head with your arms as a wave of heat and ash rolled over you. Sparks sizzled into your exposed skin. You tried to stand, to escape, only for your ankle to give out.

Scraping. Sliding. The awful screech of metal on metal.

You looked up just in time to see a wall of death rushing toward you. Its roar drowned your scream.

***

Taliesin clawed his way out of the abyss of despair. He didn’t understand why. He never understood why he kept fighting, kept going.

He just did.

He stood, staring into the drop pod turned tomb with hard eyes. His scarred lips curled around the familiar words.

“For those we cherish, we die in glory. Rest, my brothers.”

Enjoy the peace denied me.

He turned his back and surveyed the debris field once more. In the distance, beyond the fires, rose a treeline, arboreal giants taller than the cathedral he’d prayed in as a boy. And past them? The vague, blue outlines of mountains on the horizon.

Planet Designation: MM-026

Category: Feral

Population: Scattered tribes.

Imperial Presence: Single listening outpost, abandoned.

Importance: None.

He remembered the debriefing when they’d exited the Warp and into this world’s orbit. A perfect place to resupply their badly depleted stores and begin repairs. Far from the frontlines. 

Quiet.

His lips twisted into a bitter smile.

Until the Lamenters came.

Taliesin began walking. At first, he kept his head on a swivel, scanning the wreckage for survivors. Hoping against hope that, maybe, just this once, his luck had changed. Once, he spotted a black and white checked pauldron and sprinted toward it. But what he found attached to it could barely be recognized as human anymore. 

As the hours passed and the planet’s sun arced down toward the horizon, he stopped trying.

Alone.

The black grief rose again. He fought it back down into the place it resided, just behind his hearts.

Harden yourself. Turn your grief to stone. Do your duty.

He repeated the mantra taught to him by an old Sergeant. Over and over again. As he passed the fragments of bodies that might once have been friends, brothers. Now reduced to so much burnt meat.

A few bore the marks of the Enemy. He bared his fangs at those, rage dulling the grief’s pain. But that too, he knew, was a trap.

Better to feel nothing at all than-

A scream. A human scream!

He was running before he had time to think.

***

You clawed at the wreckage surrounding you. More skin tore as you desperately tried to drag yourself away from the onrushing avalanche of metal. Your ankle throbbed. Your ribs screamed. 

No use. You looked over your shoulder to see death mere feet away.

“Not now! Not like this!” You sobbed. “Emperor, please!”

“Your Corpse Emperor is disgusted by you, pet.”

“No!”

Your last thought couldn’t be of His voice! 

You focused on the memories you’d clung to like treasures during the worst of your torment. Bright skies. Shining water. Your mother’s smile. Your brothers’ laughter. The sun on your-

Something massive hurtled out of the smoke and met the onrushing wall of metal head on. Another scream, more shocked than terrified, tore from your lips as you saw the armored giant catch the sliding vehicle, boots digging ruts in the dirt as he braced himself against its weight with a rasping groan. 

Time stopped.

***

Giants in armor leapt from the grinning maws of ships as they hovered over the waves. Your people, wide-eyed and innocent, gathered on the shoreline. 

You tried to pull your mother away. You didn’t like the screaming sounds those strange ships made. But she just kept staring, eyes wide, head cocked to one side.

“Mama, let’s go!”

“But,” she’d whispered, “they’re so beautiful!”

They were. Their armor glistened in ever-shifting hues, ranging the gamut from pastel lavender to royal purple. They all but danced through the shallows, their movements serpentine.

“Surely these are the Emperor’s Angels!”

You didn’t know who said that. All you knew was that you wanted AWAY.

“Mama, please-”

“Shhh.” She turned to you with a haunting smile. “Don’t you hear their music? It’s, it’s….” 

She began to laugh. Then scream. You stumbled back as the rest of the crowd, men and women and children you’d known all your life, burst into a wild cacophony. Fingernails raked down cheeks and gouged eyes. Clothing tore. Then flesh.

The giants joined them, howling and shrieking like the banshees your grandmother had once warned you about. Then they drew their blades. And the screaming began in earnest.

A whip of bone and thorns curled around your mother’s waist and her eyes cleared for one, horrible moment.

“Run, child! RUN!”

***

You ran.

Before, fury gave you strength. Now, it was fear. Mad, animal terror that drowned even the agony in your swelling ankle in its intensity. Tears blinded you. Sobs ripped from your heaving chest.

“Nonononon…!”

I won’t go back! I can’t I can’t I can’t-

“Woman, wait!”

The voice, deep and hard, spurred you on. When your ankle gave out, you crawled over wreckage and corpses alike.

“Stop!”

You almost laughed. Did he think you’d return willingly? 

I’d rather die!

Footsteps shook the ground behind you. 

I can’t outrun him.

Your outstretched hand found a shard of smoking glass. You gripped it through the burning pain. A quick slice, and it would be over. You knew how. You’d seen other, braver slaves choose death before.

The glass seared your skin as you laid it against your throat, just beneath the collar.

Do it. Do it! 

“No! Do not!”

The deep voice sounded… different. Concerned? But that was impossible. The giants, the monsters, they didn’t care. They never cared.

Why am I hesitating?! I just need to-

Armored fingers enveloped your own. A second hand spanned the width of your waist, restraining. But not crushing. 

“Let it go, little one.”

Soft. 

Gentle. 

A trick. 

A lie!

Shifting the shard in your hand, you summoned all your strength and plunged it into a crack in the yellow armor.

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