Getting Warhammered [WH 40k Fanfic]

Guilliman

The Primarch watched the spot where the flaming portal stood just moments ago, his thoughtful stare lingering on thin air. Was he reconsidering his decisions? Doubting himself? Sure. Who wouldn’t?

In the end, he reasoned it was for the best.

He couldn’t find it in himself to trust the creature his father so wanted with his own genes, no matter the possible benefits. The risks were just too great. He also had to reinforce the idea that taking an ‘alternative’ route by the way of his brother’s corpse would be the last thing she did without a crusader fleet hunting her through the galaxy.

It relieved him that she seemed hesitant when he mentioned that, though less so than a single being with a handful of people and not a single voidship to her name should be.

“I would appreciate your opinion,” Guilliman said, not taking his eyes off the open space, nor glancing at the constipated look on Octavian’s face — though even he could find it amusing. “Commander.”

Dante stood beside him, the old chapter Master having recovered enough to stand after the Emissary smashed him into a wall. “She is dangerous. More so than most beings I’ve met in my life.”

Guilliman nodded. The pressure he felt, that presence she emitted almost unconsciously was … it was worrying. It was hardly the strongest he felt. He met his father after all, and both Magnus and Malcador eclipsed the strange woman as far as he could tell. But the fact that he was even comparing her to those two was the problem.

In his moment of doubt, when the Shadow retreated and her aura first brushed against his, he asked for guidance. His father answered. He glanced down at his sword, hanging at his side.

He wanted her, for something, alive. No, not only alive, but … strong? He wasn’t sure what he felt from his father’s errant soul shard at that moment, but he knew for certain killing her would be a mistake. His father seemed to believe so, at least.

“I meant about rejecting her ‘offer.” Guilliman corrected, glancing at his brother’s son with a dour look. 

“I would have done the same in your place, My Lord. … or more.”

The last part was a sour whisper, but he heard him. “Why?”

“She is … erratic,” Dante said with a frown. “Like a child trying to appear strong, overbearing, arrogant. That strength wielded by someone so unpredictable … I don’t like it.”

Guilliman hummed. He agreed. At the same time, he could also see why his father would want the creature. If she can rebuild herself from nothing but bone, who is to say what else she can rebuild? 

If she could really heal his father … 

He hesitated. Would that even be a good thing? Would the thing his father became even be a good ruler? Would he still be the man he knew?

He had an inkling of a suspicion to the answer, but it hurt to admit and felt treasonous.

Anyway, not that he could even trust any of the ‘information’ the woman would have provided in return. Not until he verified the ones he’d already been given … but if they did turn out to be all true …

He glanced down at the newly made squishy thing in his hand. The bridge was shaky at best, but not burnt to ash. Not yet. He made sure to be diplomatic enough in his rejection for that, and the woman seemed to be observant enough to notice it.

Well, all in all, he felt satisfied with this outcome. His instincts told him he could have killed her with his father’s sword. But if he allowed her to take and replicate the Emissary? Or if he gave her some of his own bio-sample? He wasn’t so sure. He would have to make sure Sanguinius’ crypt remained unmolested, but aside from that, she couldn’t really get her hands on other beings that could really threaten him.

It wasn’t like there was another Primarch out there. He was alone. 

Not if she spoke the truth. He let out a minute sigh, then turned on his heels. The battlefield was burning, leaving nothing to any of the errant Tyranids that might have escaped to the corners of this wasteland planet. He nodded. “We are leaving.”

Yes. It was well past time he returned to the fleet and continued the crusade. He spent more time on Baal than he would have liked already.

He put his thoughts about the strange white-haired woman to the back of his mind. 

In the grand scheme of things, she was just a smidge above inconsequential. Especially if he decided her healing capability and/or information was worthless to the Imperium.

He had a galaxy-spanning empire and quadrillions of humans to save from horrors beyond reckoning. One eccentric psyker with an ancient relic was the last of his worries.

 

*****

 

Valenith

Fools, the lot of them. Absolute, idiots. Morons. 

He had a thousand more colourful words, and a million more idioms and metaphors to describe his opinion of the humans and their bumbling primarch.

He snorted. What an arrogant title, and they dared to call Valenith’s kind narcissistic? 

Though he guessed the majority of them didn’t have the faintest clue what ‘primarch’ even meant beyond it being a title for their glorious emperor’s spawns.

“What got you so worked up?”

He glanced to his side, his mood lightening instantly. “Idiocy.”

The little human called Selene nodded, a frown creasing her brows. She was one of the good ones, serious, dutiful, smart, and a psyker.

The last one being the most important one. Even if he respected Echidna, and showed a fragment of that to her human partner, he would have had to pretend if she wasn’t a psyker.

He couldn’t bring himself to even consider the regular human more than a beast. They felt so similar to his senses. Such weak, sightless souls. They were closer to insects than the Aeldari despite the outward similarities.

“It can’t be helped,” Selene shrugged, though he still saw the worry in her posture. “I just hope they leave her alone.”

He almost snorted. Like they could do anything to her. He saw the way their precious primarch looked at her. He might deny it, even to himself, but he saw the doubt in his gaze when he saw her release her power.

Some part of him must have realised he couldn’t win.

“They are hopeless,” Val said, carefully listening in on the conversation happening just in the other room. “Just the fact they didn’t double down to capture or kill her was a monumental surprise. Your kind’s first response to fear is to murder what’s causing it.”

The woman nodded sullenly while Valenith shook his head. It was to be expected, he just hoped the woman quickly left behind her attachments to those morons.

He just knew they would have an army of fanatical marines trying to murder them before long. It would be for the best if she had no reservations about standing by their side by then.

He would be ready. He watched how they fought, tested their armour with a few errant bolts of lightning, and poked at their psyche during the fight.

He had to know his limitations after all, he hardly knew what he was capable of now that he was free. What better test subjects than those who tried to coerce his mistress and kidnapped his student? He hoped their souls held out for long enough to feel the daemons ripping them apart.

It couldn’t compare to the fate his own kind had to suffer should they fall without a soulstone, but it was horrible enough to be a satisfying end to them.

To show the pathetic humans what a true Aeldari was capable of, to have them one day realise they had only ever managed to fight back against even the tiny fraction of their once glorious Empire when they had both of their hands tied behind their backs, was one of his burgeoning hopes for the future.

He knew the day would come. Alas, it was still far. He had to make do with the knowledge of that being the truth and that he would never again be such a weakling to be trampled upon by humans until then.

“Do you think she is alright?” Selene asked, the worry trickling off of her aura clear as day to the Eldar. 

“It is a minor setback,” Val shrugged. “Did she not say getting the primarch to part with a lock of his hair would be the absolute best outcome? Anything besides that had been achieved. It is not perfect, per se, but nothing is. She still has much to learn.”

“Can’t you teach her?” she asked, curious. “I know your kind are the masters of fighting with words just as much as with weapons.”

“… I suppose,” he hummed. “I could grant her some guidance … though she would have to learn to handle herself on her own for the most part. She is unlike any Aeldari I know. Our expertise wouldn’t really apply.”

“I see.”

“So tell me,” Val banished his previous thoughts, though he made sure to remember to provide guidance to his Mistress whenever she needed it. “How does that new form of yours feel? … We will have to alter some- most exercises to fit your new capabilities … “

Val drifted off in thought, though he did notice the little human’s mouth widening into an eager grin. He couldn’t help but mirror it himself. 

 

*****

Faelarian

“She is not coming back.” Bob said for what felt like the thousandth time.

“She is,” Fae retorted, continuing to meditate. She feared her newly unleashed psychic might would tear her to shreds if she didn’t. It also let her feel closer to Her. 

Bob just sighed and slumped down next to her. He chowed on a piece of hardened jerky, the smoked meat of some horrible creature he hunted in the wastelands. Fae was thankful she could survive a few months without eating, sustained by warp energy — or was it really warp energy? She would have to ask when She came.

“Are you sure we want to go with her?” he asked, uncertainty still clear in his voice despite the numerous times she told him her answer. 

Fae took a faint calming breath. It wasn’t his fault. Poor Bob. Poor, human, blind, ignorant Bob. He didn’t know, he didn’t see. He couldn’t see. 

He deserved an answer; he deserved much more than an answer after all he suffered throughout the ages just for her. She would guide him. He must have been lost now that his goal was sitting next to him and had gone mad — at least from his perspective.

“I am.” She cracked open an eye and held his gaze. “I know you have your doubts, that you don’t understand what drives my actions. I understand. It is expected, even. Just that you are still here, with me, means a lot to me.”

She took a breath, focus deepening as she opened her other eye too, and took his weathered old hands into her own. “You know what awaits our kind after death claims us.”

“I do,” his face clouded over and she rubbed the back of his hand consolingly. The poor man walked around with the soul stone housing her soul for centuries. Of course, he knew. Though maybe not all. 

“Those who don’t have a soul stone, or if the Infinity Circuit of any Craftworld breaks, every single housed soul is damned.” She let out a shuddering breath, remembering the wrathful screech she heard just as she entered her new Mistress’ safe haven. “She Who Thirsts laid claim to all of our souls and feasts on our suffering. Death would just be the beginning of an eternity of torment.”

“Not anymore though,” he whispered, staring at her like he was ready to throw fists with a God to free her soul. “Right?”

“Not anymore,” Fae smiled. “She saved me. Gave me more than I could have ever asked for. I am freer than any other being in this galaxy, I reckon. Aside from her, of course.”

“But she just used you as a test subject,” he said weakly. “A single mistake and you would have ended up right where you began, or worse.”

“But I did not,” Fae said. “I am here. I am free. And I owe her more than my life. Also …“

Bob looked at her weirdly as she shuddered, remembering the echo of the immense power she felt when Her soul brushed against hers. It was equal parts euphoric and horrifying, that a being of such power could exist outside of the Warp. One untainted by Chaos.

The Aeldari gods were dead. Only some pitiful fragments remained. But she knew the songs, the ones that spoke of the ages when those Gods walked the stars and fought alongside their worshippers.

She wanted that. To live in the shadow of a living God. One worth serving. She needed it.

Bob squeezed her hand. “If you believe it is the right decision … I will follow you. Wherever this takes us. I will be right behind you.”

Fae smiled, relief blooming in her heart. Even if her kind would be disgusted by her choice, she never regretted taking Bob as her partner. 

A sizzling sound broke the both of them out of their staring match and interrupted whatever might have followed. Fae’s heart thundered in her chest as she felt a faint brush of power against her soul.

A single burning dot sitting in the air slowly grew in size, as if burning the air away as it passed. It widened into a ring, then into an elliptical door. A form clad in white robes stepped through and Fae fell onto her knees with a blissful smile. 

“So what decision did the two of you come to?” The mortal incarnation of a God asked, a slightly terse undertone in her voice. Someone was going to be hurt, it seemed. Pissing off a God can’t be healthy.

Fae gave a brief glance to Bob who gave her a minute nod.

“We would like to go with you,” Fae swallowed, suddenly nervous. “If possible.”

She felt the ephemeral aura lighten in the room.

“Good.” There was a slight smile in that voice, though she could tell the undercurrent of irritation remained. “Welcome aboard.”