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Chapter Text

Anivia Lux Syrren walked determinately, but slowly.

The palace hall was quiet. It was not empty—there were guards and servants everywhere, not to mention Anivia’s own entourage of a dozen. But none of them made any noise.

Anivia walked slowly, too slow for the comfort of the guards that followed her, who were used to bustling about in hurried speed. None dared to voice any complaint, of course, but she should really consider picking up the pace, if only so she could sit down sooner.

But her head was pounding. Her breath heavy. Every swallow felt like a needle through her throat.

No one could tell how much pain she was in by looking at her, but it had taken up most of her energy just to keep in the signs.

Anivia was not dying. She just had a cold.

The common cold, an evolutionary winner in the arms race against medical advancement.

There was somewhat of a cure. It required several hours of deep sleep and a couple of days of bedrest, a luxury Anivia did not have.

And so she walked, slowly and painfully, to the Council chamber.

She was the last to arrive, but she was not late.

The Council chamber was like a fortress enclosed in walls. At the center of it were twelve thrones for the Twelve Lords, surrounding a round black table. Well, there was supposed to be a throne under the Fabricator-General’s body somewhere anyway. These Martians seemed to subscribe to the doctrine that body size was linearly correlated with authority and power. The Fabricator-General’s body size grew steadily over the years, occupying half of the chamber’s space at this point.

Immediately outside the central circle were a few dozens of  minor thrones, for lesser lords that carried out various functions for the Council.

At the outer perimeter of the chamber were the personal entourage of the Lords. Almost all of them were security, for a signal interference prevented anyone from hearing the Council deliberations from their position, and they were not permitted to approach the inner circle under any circumstance.

The Council chamber was perhaps the most secure place in the entire Imperium, save for the Throne room itself. The High Lords could not possibly fear of any outside invasion.

They feared each other.

Anivia found it difficult to understand. There was the Fabricator-General of Mars who took up half of the chamber. The Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum sat across from her. The Inquisitorial Representative was almost always a Psyker. If any one of these three were to make an attempt on her life, she doubted the gun-drones patrolling above the thrones would be able to stop it.

Nevertheless, she brought her own guards, if only so she wouldn’t stand out.

Anivia Lux Syrren, the Master of the Administratum, took a seat at the head of the table, in the largest, most embellished throne, as the first among equals.

A few High Lords nodded at her, some more enthusiastically than others.

Anivia nodded in acknowledgement but nothing more. Part of this was her need to maintain an air of authority in front of people who were at least 5 times her age, but the more important part was that she could think of nothing else than having a glass of water.

A glass of water appeared on the table in front of her.

It was brought over by Anna-Murza Jek, who was the aide-de-camp of Alexei Lev Tieron, the Chancellor of the Senatorum Imperialis. This made Jek one of the very few souls in this chamber with both the authority and the time to attend to things such as this.

If Anivia had a choice in the matter, she would’ve preferred to keep her illness private. Yet with as many war veterans, spies, and psykers as there were in this chamber, she had long decided to devote her energy elsewhere.

That said, very few of these people had the ability to penetrate Anivia’s null-field ornament, the willingness to pay attention to her comfort, as well as the authority to order Jek.

Anivia lifted the glass slightly, giving a toasting gesture towards the throne that belonged to the Inquisitorial Representative.

Unlike the rest of the High Lords, the Inquisitorial Representative was not a position stably held by one person. Legally speaking, all Inquisitors were equals. They served the Emperor and no one else; not even each other. This meant that any one of them could serve as the Inquisitorial Representative on the Council.

Practically speaking, it was almost always the one person whose jurisdiction was in the Sol System and who had family ties on Terra. In recent years, this had been Kleopatra Arx.

Arx, of course, wouldn’t have cared if Anivia died of thirst.

It was not Arx who came today. It was a much more unwelcoming sight, to everyone except Anivia.

It was Dragory, a Grey Knight.

There was no explicit rule that forbade space marines from taking part in Council duties. Indeed, there were precedents of this in dire times of civil unrest. Nevertheless, none of the Adeptus Astartes related organizations had any official role in Adeptus Terra. The legend was that those who set up the Imperium Council ten thousand years ago intentionally excluded Adeptus Astartes because they intended Terra to be governed entirely by mortal humans. Perhaps because of this, perhaps because of the all too natural fear that mortals couldn’t help but experience when in the same room as an Astartes, the sight of space marines was never welcome within the palace walls.

This did not stop the fact that the Grey Knights were, technically speaking, part of the Inquisition, and was therefore perfectly eligible to serve as a Representative.

Why they would be willing to do so was beyond everyone else, especially Tieron, who had been trying for 15 years to convince the Adeptus Custodes to take their rightful seat at the Council.

Tieron, who knew more secrets than most, knew that Anivia was in some way behind the Grey Knights’ involvement. In what way exactly he could not even begin to fathom. It was stuff like this that ensured Tieron never forget his place when dealing with the Master of the Administratum, despite her unbelievably young age.

Anivia was wrong. She was not the last to arrive.

As the clock turned to the scheduled time, the last member of this meeting stepped into the room. He sat in the twelfth throne, which had been empty for fifteen years since the passing of Brach, the chancellor of the Estate Imperium, fifteen years ago.

There were many attempts at replacing him, sponsored by both High Lords and lesser lords alike. None had been successful, partly because Tieron was hoping that the person currently occupying it would be the replacement.

Many of the other High Lords raised their eyebrows in surprise. Anivia did not. If she wasn’t sick she would’ve feigned surprise. She should’ve. Now they must think she was behind this as well as Dragory.

She was not, in fact, behind it. She was not surprised because she knew Tieron to be a capable and stubborn man.

The Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes wore golden armor underneath a black cloak. His expression was perfectly stoic. Everywhere he looked, it was as if he was looking at an inanimate object of absolutely no value. This included the High Lords.

This was probably Anivia’s first time meeting Trajann Valoris. She was not entirely sure because there was one time in the somewhat distant past where she caught a glimpse of a Custodian from afar, whom she later deduced must have been Valoris. This was certainly the first time she had seen his face, though.

He was tall, taller than Dragory even. And as soon as he stepped into the room, he and Dragory sized each other up. Then he took his seat.

Anivia signaled to Tieron to start the meeting.

Chapter Text

Even when she was not ill, Anivia disliked speaking in Council meetings. This was not because she despised the other High Lords, although the High Lords had always despised each other.

This was because Anivia was, strangely enough, not fond of arguing.

Every living soul in this chamber, including the lowliest of servants, had climbed over hundreds or even thousands of other souls to get here. Almost all of them had the blood of their kins on their hands. Anivia was no exception. Yet she was, in fact, not raised as a politician. Her education was not designed to prepare her for the battle of words and of influence that defined the High Council meetings.

She was raised as a shadow to a politician, to work behind the scenes, to make things happen. She was getting better at the meetings now, but she still hated them when she was sick.

The most contentious item on this day’s agenda was the Dissolution. Specifically, of the Edict of Restraint within the Lex Imperialis. It held that the Adeptus Custodes could not leave Terra in force, and therefore could not participate in planetary wars in places such as Cadia or Fenris.

Rumours were that there were ten thousand Custodians in the Palace, each stronger than a space marine. Considering there were only about one million space marines enlisted at any given time, ten thousand was a formidable addition.

The matter of the Dissolution had been raised several times before. The High Lords had always been evenly split—five in agreement, five in opposition, one in abstention, and one seat empty.

Anivia had always voted in agreement, but she had not spared much energy in trying to convince the other Council members.

The arguments were always the same. Half of them argued that the Imperium stood for ten millennia without having to engage the Ten Thousand, while the other half argued that now was different.

After the usual arguments were made, Valoris spoke. His voice was calm, almost quiet, and completely devoid of emotions.

“I would like to urge you, lords, to think carefully about what it is that you are voting for,” said Valoris. “We have always fought, and now you wish us to take our fight beyond the walls of the Palace. But who is to command us? The Council holds no authority over us and the Emperor cannot lead us the way He did in the past. Are we to become another Inquisition, answerable to no one but the Emperor Himself? If that is the case, be wary of what you wish for, as our goals may not align with yours.”

He said it so matter-of-factly that it almost didn’t sound like a threat. The High Lords, however, with their age-hardened political acuity, understood exactly what the implication was. For a moment, no one responded.

Then, Fadix said slowly, almost casually, “Lord Syrren has been quiet today.”

Anivia managed to hide her surprise. She was not exactly friendly with the Grand Master of Assassins—no one was. But she didn’t think Fadix had a reason to pick a fight with her. Anivia knew it was easy for people to underestimate her, but she did not think the master of spies of all people would make that mistake.

Still, she had to say something.

“My opinion has not changed since our last discussion, which appears to be the case for all of you as well, my good lords.” Anivia said evenly, betraying no sign of the intense discomfort her illness was causing. “Nevertheless, since Captain-General Valoris is with us today, I will repeat my view: The decision was never ours to make.”

If Anivia weren’t ill, she would’ve been able to meet Valoris’s gaze without trembling. As it was, she decided that her energy was better spent elsewhere.

And so she sat there, looking vaguely in the direction of the Custodian Captain-General, her voice shaking in a strangely calm kind of way. “The Ten Thousand was never under our command. We did not know the war they were fighting, and we do not know if they will secure Cadia. I have been voting in favour of the Dissolution because I wish for us to spend our time on other matters. Matters that are within our control.”

Tieron stared at her. What she said was technically true, but the High Lords had always operated under the belief that they ruled the Imperium in its entirety. Nobody was supposed to say the quiet part aloud.

Valoris, on the other hand, had turned away his gaze. This made Anivia feel instantly better. She then had the energy to look in the direction of the Fabricator-General and said, slowly and with a half smile, “I have always thought it prudent to leave matters in the hands of true experts, so that each of us can observe our proper function.”

Check mate, thought Tieron.

Leave matters to true experts had been the fundamental principle by which the Adeptus Mechanicus operated. For eons, they have resisted all forms of external accountability. The Fabricator-General, who had been one of the most vocal opponents to Dissolution, was now silenced.

Even Fadix couldn’t help but smile. The Officio Assassinorum was another institution that operated in the gray area of Imperial law. He had minimum reporting duties to the Council, but none of the information he was willing to share ever revealed anything substantive about the inner workings of the Assassin Temples.

To his credit, Fadix’s expression was not one of annoyance or defeat, but of intrigue. It was as if he suddenly discovered a new toy.

His gaze would’ve made Tieron’s skin craw, but Anivia paid him no attention.

“Let us gauge the balance of opinion, then.” Anivia said.

And that was when it happened.

Just as Anivia was ready to take the vote so she could go home, take a bath, and get some sleep, all communication channels were activated at once. All of them carried the same message.

Cadia fell. The Astronomican went dark.

Everybody got up from their seat at once. Anivia was supposed to announce the recession of all Council meetings. She did not remember if she did it then, but she was the first to leave her throne.

The fall of Cadia was shocking, but it was not in fact the most urgent problem. Without the light of the Astronomican, supply ships would be lost in the void, unable to reach Terra. Terra, in the meanwhile, had not been able to sustain its population for thousands of years. It relied on hundreds of thousands of supply ships bringing basic material sustenance from all corners of the galaxy on a daily basis in order to keep its populus alive.

The fall of the Astronomican meant hunger, disease, civil unrest.

The Adeptus Arbites and the Astra Militarum might be able to do something about the civil unrest, but it was the Administratum’s job to deal with the hunger and the disease.

It might be difficult to believe but Anivia, as a matter of fact, did have a plan.

“Master Syrren.”

Valoris stopped Anivia as she existed the Council chamber. Although she was the first to stand up, she soon realized that her physical condition did not allow her to storm out like the Lord High Admiral of the Imperial Navy did. So she stood there and gave orders through vox. That made her the last to leave the room.

“Captain-General.” Anivia replied. She felt awful. Giving the initial crisis response commands had given her another wave of headache. She felt as if someone was repeatedly hitting the side of her head with a mallet.

“I am aware of your attempt at establishing supply backups since you took office,” said Valoris, “how long will it last?”

Anivia was surprised that the Custodian Captain-General cared at all about how many days the Terrans had before starvation and she was not quite able to command her brain to focus on only the important things.

“The precise date will depend on which hives had fallen already, whether the quarantine protocols were carried out in time, and how many Militarum forces we could deploy.” Anivia answered almost on autopilot, “if you need a precise projection, I can get it to you in two hours.”

As she finished the sentence, her brain caught up. Of course Valoris was not interested in the lives of Terran citizens. That was silly of her.

Anivia closed her eyes to concentrate, and amended her earlier report: “of course, you wish to know how much defense forces we could muster for the outer Palace. The decision would have to be that of the Lord Commander Militant’s, but I will get a full report to him—”

And it was dark.

Chapter Text

Valoris was not new to conversing with Adeptus Terra lords. He knew that all of them were good at mind games. Just as he was able to recognize the weakness of an enemy formation from a simple glance, these mortals survived on their ability to discern the true intention of an interlocuter through the most basics of interaction. Yet he did not expect how much of his plan Anivia Lux Syrren was able to deduce from just a simple question.

He had been Captain-General for a few hundred years by then, and he had not seen anyone like her.

She was by no means a soldier. She was slim, medium-height by mortal standard, sometimes clumsy, always fragile. Any one of his Custodians could eliminate her within a microsecond and she wouldn’t even see it coming.

Yet when she spoke, she was calm, driven, methodical. It was as if nothing could make her lose her clarity. The determination in her eyes almost reminded him of his finest warriors.

Nothing could make her lose her clarity, except a common cold, apparently.

Anivia collapsed without warning, and Valoris reflexively caught her. She was much lighter than his power spear. Her face flustered with unnatural redness. He could hear her breath, shallow and trying.

“She looks to be ill. May I?”

Dragory the Grey Knight took Anivia into his arms in a manner that signaled familiarity. This intrigued Valoris as well as annoyed him.

Dragory inspected Anivia briefly, then he lifted his hand and gently touched her forehead.

Sorcery. Valoris scorned internally.

It took Anivia a few seconds to focus her eyes, a few more to restart her brain.

“I apologize. I—” She stopped. She did not remember what she was doing right before she fainted, and so she didn’t actually know what she was supposed to be apologizing for.

“My question has been answered, Master Syrren.” Valoris’s voice abruptly appeared above her, “I will attend to my duties now.”

And then he left.

That brought back some of Anivia’s memory. She pressed two fingers against her temples and asked Dragory, “we lost Cadia, correct? And the Astronomican was down? I didn’t dream all that, did I?”

Dragory looked at her. She was genuinely asking, without even a hint of hopeful self-deception. He found this utterly perplexing for a moral.

“That is correct.” Dragory confirmed. “There are likely many insurrections already taking place inside the hives, fueled by fear or heresy. They will be targeting the Palace.”

“Let them come.” Anivia said calmly, “when they get to the outer Palace, the Custodians will take care of it. They should be able to handle it for at least three days before something happens inside here. In the meantime, our resources are better deployed for containment.”

Dragory couldn’t help but steal a glance at Valoris, who had not quite left Custodian earshot. Dragory believed he saw Valoris’s footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. This made him smile.

Anivia did not notice. With some struggle and Dragory’s help, she stood up from the floor.

“I suppose you’ll need to go, too.” Said Anivia. “Don’t worry about us. We can at least hold until the enemy actually arrives.”

She said it in such a tone that almost sounded like she was comforting him, and that made him smile some more.

“In that case, let me make your task more difficult.” He said as he stood up, “by ensuring that the enemy never arrives.”

It would be a strange thing to say—indeed, strange enough to arouse some unwelcome interest from the Inquisition—that Anivia had been expecting a crisis. But the fact was that she had been preparing for one.

It was not that she expected the Emperor’s protection to fail. That would be heresy. It was simply that it was in Anivia’s nature to prepare for crises. She could be seeing the most glorious achievement of humanity and her mind would immediately go towards questions of when it would fail, how she would prevent it, what she would do if it did.

She would never have thought that the Emperor’s light would falter, but she was nevertheless prepared when it did.

Before Terra was designated as the Throne world, it was a hive world. Numerous hive cities covered the surface of the planet, with little more than toxic wasteland in between. Within each hive spire lived billions of Imperial citizens, crammed inside compact living spaces with dubious hygienic standards.

The biggest project Anivia undertook since taking office had been to institute quarantine structures throughout the hive spires. Actual quarantine structures rather than kill blocks. There had been plenty of the latter put in place by the Adeptus Arbites throughout the millennia. None of them was especially effective at anything, including causing death.

Setting up quarantine structures was not difficult, for the Imperium was used to arbitrary segregation and confinement. Most officials did not understand Anivia’s insistence on installing resource supply lines in these blocks, but none dared to question her.

It was much more difficult to set up reserves for food and other life-sustaining resources. Terra had come to trust that the never-ending fleet of cargo ships truly would never end. It was entirely through the vast amount of coercive power that came with the title of Master of Administratum that Anivia was able to achieve any degree of success at all.

Now it paid off.

The quarantine protocols were designed to prevent the spread of infectious diseases, but it was equally effective in preventing the spread of infectious heresy. Many cults found themselves unable to get their messages out beyond the walls of their immediate block. Minimum Arbites forces were needed to contain them, as they waited for the judgment of the Inquisition.

There were several hive spires that failed to engage the quarantine protocol in time. This led to a wave of insurrectional attacks on the outer Palace. As Anivia had ordered, little resource was expended to stop them, and they were dealt with by the Custodians once they reached the Palace walls. The Militarum forces were mobilized to establish supply chains, which prevented further waves of attack.

By day 3, all of the Custodians left the outer walls to deal with new crises that arose from within the Palace. But by then, the situation was already under control.

The Imperium was founded on propaganda as much as it was founded on genocide. Anivia was no stranger to propaganda, but she had never been a fan of the way the Imperium had been doing it.

The Imperial propaganda almost exclusively centered around the idea that it was infallible. The Emperor always protected. The Inquisition was always right. The High Lords would never err. The Militarum had everything under control.

None of that was true of course. But more importantly, none of that worked.

Anivia instituted another kind of propaganda. She had enough food reserves to feed Terra for about two months, yet she did not advertise it as food reserves. Instead, she varied the amount of food each day, and told the guards that the food was taken back from enemy ships by the Imperial Navy and the space marines. It was, of course, also blessed by the Ecclesiarchy priests and thoroughly inspected by the Inquisition, to make sure that it was safe for consumption.

When the daily ration was low, the citizens were told that a heretical insurrection diverted Militarum forces that day, or that the Ecclesiarchy priest on duty suddenly fell ill, delaying the blessing rituals. When the daily ration was high, the citizens circulated stories of epic battle victories of the space marines or the Imperial Navy.

None of it worked that way, of course, but they didn’t know. What they knew was that the terrifying, mythical superhuman soldiers were fighting everyday to ensure that food appeared on their tables. What they knew was that the often rude and always violent officers toiled day and night for their survival. They were not entirely wrong.

The effect was nothing short of miraculous.

Anivia did not go to the reception for the returning primarch.

This was not intentional. As far as she was concerned, Roboute Guilliman appeared out of nowhere on Luna, fought, and won. He then followed Chancellor Tieron—Anivia had no idea why he was on Luna—back to Terra, giving only two hours of advance notice to the Palace.

By the time Anivia heard the news, she was half-way across the planet, about to enter into a day-long meeting with officials of various types who had been stationed far away from the Palace. Anivia’s personal presence was not absolutely necessary for this meeting, but it was good for morale. She also brought reinforcement officers from the Palace and wanted to make sure the two groups were able to keep their mutual contempt in check, so as to not interfere with the necessary work.

By the time Anivia returned to the Palace, Guilliman had disappeared into the Throne room with Captain-General Valoris.

Perhaps many had thought that the return of Lord Guilliman signaled a turn for the better. That was not the case. At least not immediately.

It got worse. It got so much worse. Daemons appeared inside the Palace. Nobody thought it was possible.

But then, nobody thought it was possible that Cadia would fall.

It did not help that Valoris was still with the Emperor. Anivia issued a shelter-in-place order for all senior officials. Many of them had gone mad, but the least she could do was to slow the spread of this madness.

Anivia was strangely calm. She had nightmares just like everyone else, and she genuinely thought she might die. But again, if she did die, that was a proof that prophecies were not to be trusted. And that might be a good thing.

Chapter Text

Anivia did not die. The Palace did not fall.

It was not within the purview of the Master of Administorum to receive real-time battle updates, and Anivia was not anxious enough to waste resources on that kind of intelligence.

Consequently, the first occasion for Anivia to definitively confirm the successful defense of the Palace was a visit from Tieron, where he brought two warriors who, Anivia gathered, were instrumental to that success.

“Lord Master Syrren,” Tieron bowed, “may I present to you—Shield-Captain Valerian of the Adeptus Custodes, and Tanau Aleya of the Sisters of Silence."

Anivia nodded in response. Her status did not require her to bow before the warriors, and her sensibility did not make her expect that they would bow to her.

“They came—I come to seek your aid, Master,” said Tieron. “The Sister has evidence of imminent attack on worlds within a single warp jump of Terra. They wish to stop it.”

“And what do you want from me?” Anivia said with slight confusion, “by my calculations, the Imperial Navy has forces to spare, but that is of course at the Lord High Admiral’s discretion.”

“The Lord High Admiral has decided to forbid all off-world movement in order to reinforce the Palace.” Tieron said gravely.

Anivia blinked. This was the first she had heard of this.

She immediately looked over at one of her assistants, who had been frantically searching through his dataslate. A few seconds later, he confirmed: “there was a notification sent from the office of the Lord High Admiral yesterday. It was classified as priority-2.”

Well, Anivia barely had time to get through half of the priority-1 messages.

“It appears that the Lord High Admiral did not wish for you to see this.” Tieron stated the obvious. He seemed…relaxed, all of a sudden, like it was no longer his problem.

“I can override that authorization.” Anivia said matter-of-factly, “Pareth won’t be happy, but she will soon have a lot more reasons to be upset with me. Still, the fact remains that I cannot command any part of the Imperial Navy to aid you.”

The Sister made a series of complicated hand gestures and looked up to Valerian.

Thoughtmark, the mode of communication of the Silent Sisters with their vow of Silence, was one of the languages taught in noble’s schola. Because few peoples still cared about the Silent Sisterhood, few teachers cared about this class. This meant that Anivia, who was never a great student, rarely went to any.

She looked at Tieron, who immediately understood her. “The Sister is willing to proceed without aid,” he said in a way that did not immediately betray the fact that it was entirely for the benefit of Anivia, “I assume that any aid would nevertheless be welcome.”

Anivia nodded. “I will have a team of Techpriests tend to the equipment of anyone who will join you. I can supply ammunition, too. I believe Shield-Captains have voidships under their command?”

The last question was aimed at Valerian, of course, who had been curiously silent. He opened his mouth as if beginning to speak, and then did not.

Anivia shot Tieron a look of confusion, who immediately answered, “the Dissolution was never officially voted on by the Council.”

Oh, so that was it. Now she finally understood the real reason Tieron took them here.

Anivia smiled, perhaps a little too warmly given the circumstances.

“You are waiting for guidance, Shield-Captain. We all are. But guidance has never been sufficient. Not even in the past. We have always also needed the will to follow. It would be a shame to forget the power of our own will.”

And with that, the warriors marched on.

That was the first time Valerian had met Anivia in person.

He had heard of her, of course. Not just as the unbelievably young Master of the Administratum, though he knew that as well.

Among the Custodian’s many secret missions was the protection of units who were presented to them, usually in the form of a dream by a Tribune, as instrumental for the security of the Throne. These individuals typically did not understand their own fate and the critical deed they had to perform were often not intentional. Consequently, the mission of the Custodes was not to guide them, but to ensure their survival until the completion of that critical deed, whatever it may be.

Anivia Lux Syrren was one such person. The dream had come to Heracleon, a Tribune and the commander of the Hetaeron Guard, sixteen Terran years ago. The order was immediately given, resulting in her lone survival from the bloody factional war that claimed all of the lives of her family branch. Since then, the Custodians had been paying close attention to her safety from the shadows, a task made easier by her rise to power within the Administratum and taking residence within the Palace.

Valerian had not personally taken up the protective mission, but he was friendly with a few who did. There was a suspicion that she knew what was going on, which would explain her severe lack of attention to her own security.

She had, in fact, saved the Throne world on several occasions already, including in the immediate aftermath of the Days of Blindness. In the first few times after it happened, Captain-General Valoris would ask Heracleon to meditate on whether they had concluded their mission. The answer had always been “no”. As far as Valerian could gather, Valoris had since stopped this tedious exercise.

Perhaps she was destined to accomplish more than a mere accidental deed that would avert some disaster through a complex and fragile chain of events. Valerian used to wonder this. Now he believed it.

Chapter Text

“So, how is he?”

This was the first time in what felt like an eternity where Anivia had a little bit of time to sit down with Tieron without the Imperium’s impending doom weighing on both of them. She offered him tea.

Tieron, always the sharpest decipher of his lords, understood immediately what Anivia meant.

She was not referring to Valerian. She was referring to him.

She was not asking whether he was well. She was asking whether he was worthy.

“It is not my place to judge.” Tieron said softly.

Anivia studied him with a hint of surprise. Tieron immediately realized that she had misunderstood him. He sat up a little in his armchair and started again.

“I will not hide anything from you, Anivia, not after what you did for Terra.” His tone was serious. “You asked me what I thought of him, and that was my honest answer. What I think is that it is not my place to judge. I thought this the moment I laid my eyes on him. I still think this now.”

Anivia was intrigued. “So you trust him.”

“That—is an interesting interpretation.”

They both fell silent for a moment, and then Tieron asked the question that had been on his mind ever since the Council meeting. “You truly do not seem afraid, Anivia.”

“Would you rather that I was?”

Tieron attempted a smile. “Lord Slyst is terrified, you know, and not only of the daemons. He is worried about Lord Guilliman and what his return would mean for us.”

Baldo Slyst was the Ecclesiarch. He was one of those people beholden to the so-called Static Tendency, the belief that Adeptus Terra was set up perfectly and nothing needed to change whatsoever. He was also one of those people who was afraid of everything.

Tieron was, in fact, quite Static himself, at least before he met Guilliman. Anivia, on the other hand, had never been Static in any sense of the word.

“I can see that.” Anivia said. “When Guilliman returns from the Throne room, I imagine he will reinstitute himself as the Lord Commander. I imagine he will take issue with the Council. I imagine he will seek out your aid. You have, if you’ll excuse my bluntness, demonstrated your willingness to aid him. I can see why Slyst is scared.”

Tieron eyed Anivia carefully and said, “and where do you stand, my lord?”

He had stopped calling her by her given name and instead observed the appropriate courtesy. Anivia knew that this was not a mark of distance, but a signal that the question was no longer about her personal sensibilities, but her political judgment as one of the High Lords of Terra.

“I have not met him yet, Chancellor.” Anivia replied.

Tieron’s eyes widened. It would not surprised him one bit if Anivia was entirely on Guilliman’s side. It would surprise him a little bit if Anivia was not. What completely escaped his imagination was her actual answer—she wanted to judge whether he was worthy before pledging her allegiance.

She wanted to judge whether a primarch was worthy.

She wanted to judge a primarch.

Just as Anivia was beginning to think about planning for a permanently blind Imperium, the Astronomican came back.

It was a joyous day for all. The entire planet was covered in ceremonial lumens, flickering in all sorts of colours, like the stars that they had never seen.

Anivia sent all of her staff home to celebrate with their loved ones and opened a bottle of champagne by herself. This was a gift from Tieron from a while ago and had the value of a month’s worth of tithe from an entire star system. Such was the way of Tieron.

Anivia went to her favourite roof garden to watch the lumens. She had no adjutant, and so was quite by herself. She preferred it this way.

She had been to Luna once, which allowed her to see stars that were otherwise invisible underneath the toxic clouds of Terra. They were beautiful. But in Anivia’s eyes, so were these lumens.

“May the Emperor protect you.” She toasted to the lights.

Anivia did not know how long he had been standing there before she noticed him. She was never the alert type and it was quite dark.

As she took another sip from her glass, she suddenly saw him. It was amazing how a body that enormous could be this quiet. She almost spilled her champagne.

“Er, good evening, my lord?” Holding a champagne bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, she gave an awkward bow.

He chuckled quietly. Anivia had never seen a primarch smile. Not one of the thousands of paintings and statues of the primarchs smiled. Not even Sanguinius.

She still did not see it then, for he was way too tall for her to be able to get a clear look at his face.

“Good evening, Master.” Guilliman said. His voice was soft. Anivia suspected it was done intentionally to make himself less scary to regular mortals and she appreciated the effort, even though it didn’t really work.

“Please, do not mind the formalities.” Guilliman continued. “Tonight is a night of celebration.”

“Well, in that case, would you care for some champagne?”

There was one primarch-sip’s worth of champagne left in the half-emptied bottle and he almost bit off the glass. It tasted good.

They stood silently for a while. Then Guilliman said, “the Chancellor has been aiding me in reviewing recent documents concerning the Imperium’s present state. I understand that you provided help to him on this matter. I wish to thank you.”

This was true. Anivia expected that Guilliman would like to read some reports. To save him from having to dive into the trash disposal that was the Estate Imperium (the record-keeping institution), Anivia compiled a list for Tieron. It included some things she thought Guilliman might be interested in as well as key personnels who could secure additional records, should he want more.

It was a small thing, one she did for Tieron’s benefit more than Guilliman’s.

“It was my pleasure, my lord,” said Anivia, “I am glad to hear that it was useful.”

Guilliman observed the Master of the Administratum carefully.

He had read the file on her, of course. She was 32 years old, laughably young for someone of her rank. Tieron, by comparison, was 120 years old when he became Chancellor. That was 80 years ago.

The Syrren family used to be quite powerful, until they dissolved into petty infighting. One of those episodes led to the annihilation of the entirety of Anivia’s branch. It was possible that she survived, at age 16, because she was deemed not a big enough threat. They turned out to be dead wrong.

Anivia became the most politically powerful mortal in the entire universe about 6 years ago. Since then, she had restructured the Syrren family so that she didn’t have to pay it any more attention. It seemed that she was not interested in founding a dynasty like the other lords, and she did not expect her family to provide any sort of aid to her. The Syrren family remained noble but obscure.

Guilliman had also read the reports and the records of the Administatum. What Anivia managed to accomplish in the past 6 years was nothing short of miraculous. Even the best statesman of Macragge would have marveled at her accomplishment in disbelief. The way she handled the Days of Blindness was remarkable. Guilliman genuinely did not know if he would’ve been able to do better.

She was what he needed for the new Imperium. He sought to meet her as soon as he returned from the Throne room.

And now that they finally met, all she did was exchanging pleasantries.

Guilliman narrowed his eyes. She did not trust him.

He was aware that many mortals, especially powerful ones within the Palace, did not trust him. They worried that he would make the same mistake his traitorous brothers did. They worried that he would put his pride above humanity. They also worried that they would lose power and influence because of his return.

None of these was the case with Anivia. He could see it in her eyes. More importantly, he could see it in her deeds that she trusted the space marines. She was perhaps the only mortal within the Palace who trusted the space marines.

No. It was not for any particular reason that she did not trust him. She did not trust him because she did not know him.

It was an entirely human response: he was a stranger to her. She expected that they might have to collaborate in the future but she needed some time to get to know him. Until then, she was going to treat him with a safe collegiality, which meant pleasantries.

Guilliman couldn’t recall the last time someone treated him this much like a human. Perhaps it was when Euten was still alive.

“I understand that you have studied military tactics.” Said Guilliman suddenly, “have you served in combat?”

Anivia stared at him blankly. Guilliman could tell that she was utterly baffled by this turn of conversation. This made him smile.

“I saw some of your old notebooks when I was searching around in the Master’s library.” He explained.

It was true that Anivia had given Tieron (and therefore Guilliman) access to her personal library, which housed books and records that she frequently referenced, as well as a random collection of junk she did not want to throw away. Nothing was sensitive, of course. She regularly received guests in that library.

It was also true that Anivia did, in fact, enjoy military tactics. She never considered commanding real troops on real battlefields, but she had always enjoyed reading books on tactics, drawing up formations, working out logistics. She found it relaxing, like a puzzle game.

Why would Guilliman flip through her idle exercises was entirely beyond her.

Anivia tried to speak, then paused, then tried again, then paused again. Finally, she simply said, “no. I have not served in combat, my lord.”

“I have always thought there to be much similarity between battlefield governance and state governance,” Guilliman said ponderously. “In both, you can see someone’s power of reason in full display. There is no way to hide it. And yours, Master, intrigues me.”

Anivia let out a quiet sigh. She knew where this was going now.

“I—have never been good with history at scholum.” Anivia confessed, “I did not mean to offend you, Lord Guilliman.”

It was Guilliman’s turn to be surprised, “I never said you offended me.”

Anivia smiled. “No you did not. You were simply unimpressed by my display of empty formality. I suppose you are busy and I should not waste your time in this way. But you are a primarch, made to fight wars and win them. I am not a warrior. I cannot be your spear, nor can I be your shield. But if you consider me worthy, perhaps, I can be the one who polish them and hand them to you.”

It was Guilliman’s turn to stare.

Just like that, she had understood him. Her mortal eyes could barely make out his shape in the darkness and yet she saw right through him.

“Did you know that my weapon is the eternally burning blade that was once wielded by the Emperor himself?”

“I do now. I will be careful.”

Chapter Text

Anivia fell ill again.

It had been more than a month, which by Anivia’s standard was an acceptable interval between two colds. Tieron insisted on a thorough search for poison. Anivia let him. She did not want to tell him that she had recently drank a glass of champagne outside at night without a rebreather.

Anivia was busy. With the return of the Astronomican came cargo ships that were lost in the void. All of them had to be carefully inspected by the Inquisition, who much preferred wholesale extermination. The Imperial Navy and the Merchant Fleets objected, of course. And so the matter came to the Administratum.

There were many cases such as this that required Anivia’s attention. In the olden days they might count as urgent. Now, nothing that did not involve daemons crawling through walls felt urgent.

Anivia was training up new officers. The Administratum lost many to madness in the Days of Blindness.

She was half-sitting, half-laying down on a large, soft couch in her library, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, holding a cup of hot tea. A school of Adepts stood around her, each with a dataslate with the report they were to deliver.

“The Departmento Munitorum has not submitted full reports on the status of quarantine lines.” Read one Adept, “this will significantly delay the rebuilding efforts and jeopardizing security in case of unforeseen outbreaks. I suggest that we deliver immediate censure to the relevant officials, followed by severe punishment.”

“Is that going to work?” Anivia asked with her eyes closed.

“I’m sorry, my lord?”

“I’m asking you if you think that will result in the swift completion of the affected task.”

“I—I do not know, my lord.”

“How might you find out?”

“I—um, I can ask some Munitorum officers?”

“Ok. Go consult your peers for more leads. Follow these leads. Write a report on what you think the best strategy is and why you think it will work. Report back to me tomorrow. Next.”

“My lord. The Departmento Processium reports that—”

The Adept’s voice stopped. Quiet gasping noises arose from across the room.

Anivia opened her eyes.

“Lord Guilliman.” Anivia greeted him in surprise. She was about to get up when Guilliman raised a hand and stopped her.

“Please, stay comfortable.” He said, “I did not wish to disturb you. In fact, please resume your work. It is quite intriguing to observe.”

“As you please.” Anivia laid back down again and nodded to the Adept, “continue.”

“The, the Departmento Processium reports a lack, no, an excess of, um…” The Adept struggled with her words, almost tearing up.

“It appears that I cannot resume my work.” Anivia smiled, “my subordinates do not wish to waste your precious time.”

“I would not call it a waste, but I understand.” Guilliman smiled back, first at the Adept and immediately shifted onto Anivia before the Adept actually fainted.

Guilliman sat down on the large chair Anivia kept in her study for her occasional Custodes and Astartes visitors. It did not look so large with Guilliman in it, but it was not uncomfortably small for him.

“Halt.” Anivia stopped the Adepts before they left the room. Guilliman raised his eyebrows, but gave her a silent look of permission.

“Stay and observe.” Anivia ordered. “No vid or voice recording of any kind. You can take notes. You can ask questions.”

The Adepts put down their bags and exchanged excited yet nervous looks.

“Let us start with the non-confidential business, then.” Guilliman said, “I wish to hold a ceremony, in celebration of our triumph at the Lion’s Gate and our survival through the time of darkness.”

A few Adepts looked at him in awe. Anivia merely nodded.

“It can be arranged in 10 days at the soonest, but I recommend waiting until the food supply stabilizes, which can take anywhere between one and four months.” Anivia said. “Do you have a list of activities in mind?”

“So far, the honouring of heroes and a speech from me.” Guilliman replied. “I wish to honour a Custodian Shield-Captain and a Silent Sister who were instrumental in the victory at the Lion’s Gate. Additionally, I wish to honour some brave souls from the Adeptus Astartes, the Astra Militarum, the Navis Imperialis, and the Adeptus Sororitas. I was hoping you can compile a list of candidates.”

So it was purely political, then. Anivia did not expect otherwise. She nodded again, “I can compile the list in 5 days, though I would prefer that someone else take on the task of informing their relevant superiors and securing approval. Chancellor Tieron can arrange this.”

Guilliman did not immediately reply. He studied her for a second and said, in a tone like he was merely stating a fact, “you already prepared for this request. You anticipated that I would make it.”

“I did not form an expectation of your actions one way or the other.” Anivia said, truthfully. “I did prepare. I thought it was a good idea. I still think it’s a good idea.”

Guilliman couldn’t help but smile. He expected that she would be a pleasure to work with once he convinced her out of treating him like an empty title. In fact, as a primarch growing up with capable bureaucrats of all stripes, Guilliman’s expectations were quite high. She had surpassed all of them, in every way.

He leaned back in his chair. “In that case, I’d like to hear your full assessment of the plan.”

Anivia hesitated. She was not entirely sure how much Guilliman planned to uphold the image of “primarchs do no wrong” that was so typical of Imperial propaganda. She had acted as authentically as she could, just as he had requested, but she did not know him well. Not well enough yet, at least, for her to have figured out where the boundaries were.

Guilliman simply smiled. Anivia could see that he understood the reason behind her hesitation immediately, but all he did was smile.

It suddenly dawned on Anivia that Guilliman was, in fact, quite handsome. All primarchs were designed to be beautiful, and it was not like Anivia didn’t walk by a (quite accurate, it turned out) sculpture of him every day on her way to work. It was just… Perhaps it was the smile. Perhaps it was the fact that his response to her hesitation was a smile. He looked incredibly human then. That made him appear handsome rather than godly.

“There are two limitations to this plan.” Anivia spoke in an even tone, like she was simply delivering another standard report rather than questioning the plan of a primarch. “I assume the ceremony will take place at the Palace. Comparatively very few Terran citizens will be able to make it here. This means they must possess a great deal of motivation and resources to be present. This means they will not be the people you are trying to convince. The rest can, of course, watch through vid-feed. But it won’t be the same. This is the first limitation.”

“The second limitation concerns the message itself.” Anivia continued. “You wish to show Terra that you care for them and your army can protect them. That message is easy enough to deliver. But I assume you do not plan to stay on Terra for long. When you leave, it will be difficult for them not to think that you have broken your word.”

From the corner of her eye, she could see the shocked faces of her Adepts. No one ever questioned a primarch like this. Primarchs were not made to be questioned like this.

Guilliman merely nodded: “I have considered both of these limitations. What do you suggest?”

“Here is the ideal situation, and we can talk about details later.” Anivia offered. “Lend me a Chapter’s worth of space marines, preferably of Ultramar descent. I will pair each one up with a team of Terrans to go into the hive spires to perform some tasks. It will be simple, like rebuilding a shrine or clearing out a cultist den. I want the Astartes to relay a battle story to the masses—we can talk about what stories are appropriate later. Then, when the time comes, some of the Terrans will stay behind. You can take all of the Astartes with you.”

Guilliman considered it. He could see what the plan was. It would require careful planning, but between him and Anivia it was doable. It had a decent chance of success, too, and very few risks.

As he silently calculated, he saw movement in the corner of his eye. In the shocked stares of her peers, an Adept raised her trembling hand.

“Do you have a question?” Guilliman asked, as gently as he could. “Your Master has said that questions are allowed. But please, first state your name.”

“I, I am Sulachana Lamiar, my lord.” She was shaking so violently she almost dropped her dataslate. But as Anivia turned around to face her, she seemed to have gained some courage. “I would like to—I wanted to ask, why does it have to be Ultramarine soldiers, um, lord? We could have some of the Astartes from the Terran stations, and then they would not have to leave later.”

Anivia gave her an encouraging smile. “Great question. For two reasons. First, Lord Guilliman is the Lord of Ultramar. Regardless of where he is in fact going and why he is going there, people will assume that it is because he values Ultramar more than Terra. Our goal is not to convince them that this is true or false, but to stop them from thinking this way entirely. If the Ultramarines show that they care about our home, it is easier for us to allow them to care about theirs. Second, I do in fact want all the participating Astartes to leave. It is easy to think fondly upon someone who is not here. I also want people to think that their absence—the absence of the Lord Guilliman—is necessary.”

Sulachana nodded. She was still flustered red and shaking uncontrollably. But her eyes were bright.

Chapter Text

And so the matter of the ceremony was decided. Guilliman was going to select a thousand Ultramarines whose temperament he deemed fitting for this job, and Anivia would make the rest of the arrangement.

They spoke a little more on this, and Guilliman signaled for everyone to leave.

As soon as the door closed behind the last servant, Anivia sat up from her couch. She was not fond of being overly casual with those equal or higher in command than her. But Guilliman wanted the Terran officials to stop being so terrified of him. They did not have to be comfortable, but at least they should be able to hear and follow his command instead of trembling in fear and then fainting in excitement. So Anivia played her part.

Now that the audience had left, Anivia resumed a much more formal posture. She sat up, let her blanket slide to her side, and leaned forward. She was still holding her cup of tea, which was the only remaining evidence of her ill health.

Guilliman did not insist. He leaned forward in his chair too, in a posture almost matching Anivia’s.

“The guests I wish to honour in the ceremony are Shield-Captain Valerian and Silent Sister Aleya. I believe you are already acquainted with them?”

“They sought my help about ten days ago to override the order, jointly issued by lord Slyst and lord Pereth, that forbids off-world travel when the Astronomican was down.” Anivia replied in her usual concision. “I assume this was the episode you are referring to?”

Guilliman did not try to hide his intention, yet he couldn’t help but admire Anivia’s ability to get to the heart of the matter so precisely it was like driving a blade through unarmed body.

“Correct.” Guilliman said. “I believe you have heard of their triumphant return?”

“Yesterday? Yes. I learned that they were injured and that they lost few. Nothing else.”

“Are you familiar with the nature of their conquest?”

“I believe Sister Aleya was anticipating an attack on Terra. I believe that I am unqualified to judge the legitimacy of these anticipations, so I deferred to the expert judgment of the Sister and the Shield-Captain.”

Guilliman studied her. He had felt the desire to do this several times already, and he had read through her entire service history multiple times. Still, she managed to surprise him in delightful ways.

Anivia was one of the very few mortals who could hold the primarch’s gaze. Still, she couldn’t help but feel that his stare was getting progressively longer.

“I will not bore you with the details then.” He continued after the pause. “All I will say is that their efforts saved my crusade at least one decade’s worth of delay. Your aid was instrumental in their success. The fact that so many of them lived at all was because of the timely reinforcement from the Grey Knights, which I believe was also attributable to you.”

Ah, so this was about the Grey Knights.

“All I did was to alert them of the situation.” Anivia said. “They make their own judgments.”

“So they do.” Guilliman agreed.

Anivia waited. She fully expected this to be an interrogation of her relationship with the Grey Knights. She had prepared her answers. All Guilliman needed to do was to ask his question.

But he did not ask.

Instead, he said, “When Shield-Captain Valerian recovers, you should go visit him. I plan for him to take the lead in the Restoration following my departure. He seems to have a talent for teamwork, but he will need your support."

The confusion on Anivia’s face amused Guilliman. He almost did not want to explain further.

“I will visit him tomorrow.” Anivia said slowly, still utterly lost in the turn of this conversation.

She could tell that Guilliman was enjoying himself. This did not annoy her, even though she was almost sure that she was the amusement. That look on his face softened the sorrow that had been so deeply entrenched in his figure it might as well had been a permanent feature. Now she could confirm that the Emperor, with His divine genius, had not designed the primarch to always look like he had the entire universe’s weight upon his shoulders.

She was glad to see it, even though she did not comprehend its nature.

There must have been something changed in her expression that snapped Guilliman right back. He looked down at the table in a way that was almost like embarrassment.

“Please do not take this as an attempt to waste your time.” When he spoke again, his voice was as even as ever. “I have many more tasks to give you, but this is important.”

Guilliman had prepared an explanation, but he stopped himself half way and looked up at Anivia.

Anivia instinctively nodded in acknowledgement and continued his thoughts for him. “You wish for the Custodes to take the lead on Restoration. They will not want the public attention, but they will have to get used to it. Perhaps they can collaborate with the Imperial Fists. I have, I believe, a reasonably good working relationship with the Imperial Fists. If they use precision strikes, they will be able to bring everything under control without revealing the actual capabilities of their full reserve. When that time comes, they will be able to leave Terra in greater numbers.”

She was exactly right, just as he had predicted. This pleased him immensely.

“Good.” He said. “There is another task I would like to give you—to train as many administrators as you can. I see that you are already doing this. I want you to make it a priority. I will send you a group of seasoned bureaucrats from Macragge. They can aid you, but they will require your guidance.”

Any other Terran lords would take this as an insult, an attempt at infiltrating the Terran order with Macraggean forces. Anivia merely nodded.

“Do inform me if I can be of aid.” Guilliman said as he stood up. “And please stay seated. I am perfectly capable of seeing myself out.”

Anivia did as commanded. Just before he opened the door, Guilliman couldn’t help but turn back once more. Anivia was looking down at her data slate with a contemplating expression on her face. She was already drafting. Planning. Making it happen.

There was hope in this universe yet, thought Guilliman.

Chapter Text

Anivia did what she promised and visited Valerian in the Tower of Hegemon the next afternoon.

When she arrived, she was surprised to find Captain-General Valoris also there. She had announced her visit ten minutes prior, which meant that he must have stayed intentionally to see her.

“Captain-General.” Anivia greeted him briefly before turning to Valerian. “Shield-Captain. I am glad to hear of your swift recovery.”

Valerian smiled warmly, “I owe it to your aid, Master.”

“All I did was to make the necessary communications, and it was all by your request.” Anivia said, “but let us not dwell on these matters. I come to discuss the Restoration. Have you been debriefed?”

There was nothing military about her, yet she spoke with such a direct tone that she might as well had been a seasoned admiral.

“I understand that I am to help with the effort,” said Valerian.

“It will be a joined effort with the Imperium Fists and miscellaneous other forces. Lord Guilliman wants it to appear as a collaborative effort. I am to serve as the coordinator, responsible for everything except military tactics.” Anivia paused and looked up at Valoris. If he was going to interject, now was a good time.

He was looking at her in his customary coldness, as if he was looking at an inanimate object. He did not speak.

“Your task is difficult,” observed Valerian. He either did not notice the strange chemistry between Valoris and Anivia or hid it very well.

Anivia looked back at him. “I will have some demands that will appear foreign to you. I’d like to give you a sense of them before you fully draft up your team. I want the Restoration to be unpredictable. Some strikes will barely succeed while others will appear as overkill. Some will involve negotiations, though they do not need to be resolved through negotiations. Some will have survivors. To this end, I will need as much intelligence as possible. The matter of survivors will have to be discussed with the Inquisition. I will make contact with them after the military personnel is fully decided.”

Valerian was surprised by the request but only nodded in acknowledgement. Valoris still said nothing.

“I understand that many members of your order have experience fighting alongside the Astartes and the Militarum. I understand that many of you have not fought alongside the Sororitas. Consider this a heads up.”

“I am sure they will be a great asset in battle,” said Valerian.

With that, Anivia was getting ready to leave. The purpose of her visit was to declare that the Custodes’ involvement was primary to any other faction rather than to convey any real information. She still did not know if Valerian was going to be the lead in this—he seemed a bit too even tempered to be a commander—but the Custodes were one of the very few orders who did not mind it when outside requests were made out of alignment with their internal chain of command. Besides, Valoris was there.

Just as Anivia was thinking about Valoris, he spoke. “The Sororitas is a part of the Ecclesiarchy. They have always objected to Dissolution,” he observed.

Anivia looked up at him. He had been standing, which meant that Valerian and Anivia had been standing. Some superhumans, such as Valerian, Dragory, and Guilliman, understood how much their physical height alone was intimidating to baseline humans and often took to sitting down when conversing with them. Valoris was not one such superhuman. He preferred standing, and that was the end of the matter.

“They used to do a lot of things. Does not mean it still works.”

She said it so casually, as if it was such a self-evident truth. As if it didn’t go against the core of the Imperium in the past ten thousand years. As if didn’t go against every bone in the bodies of the two Custodes stood before her.

Even Valoris was lost for words.

“In any case, the Dissolution was going to pass. Fabricator-General Raskian was going to switch sides.” She continued.

Even Valerian, with the perfectly observant eyes of a Custodian, could not tell if Anivia genuinely did not realize the full weight of what she had said or if she was that good at pretending.

“I was going to vote against it.” Valoris stated calmly.

Anivia was not surprised, but she did not offer a retort.

Valoris studied her cooly. It seemed that she found herself to be the object of superhuman scrutiny a lot these days. She was almost getting used to it.

She did not know if Valoris found what he was looking for before he decided to let her go.

The encounter with Valoris in the Tower of Hegemon confused Anivia for about 20 hours. It had seemed so pointless at the time. He was just there. He took a couple of cheap stabs for her assistance to Valerian, but given the fact that Valerian was also there, evidently uncensured, even that seemed pointless.

20 hours later, as Anivia was getting ready to enter the transporter that would take her beyond the Palace walls, she finally found the answer.

“All of your movement out of the Palace is to be accompanied by me.” Valoris stated matter-of-factly and stepped onto the transporter.

Anivia followed, as did her three new adjutants.

Her theory was that her life had suddenly, somehow, gained a lot of value, both in living and in death. That day in the Tower, Valoris was trying to judge if she was worth his time.

It would not have surprised anybody if Guilliman decided to send Anivia guards, but she suspected this was not his doing. Brief though their interactions were, Anivia had come to see the primarch as a brilliant diplomat, in addition to whatever killing power he left aside in his armor. It would not have been wise for him to try to give Valoris orders. Not now. Not yet.

Beyond that, Anivia did not care to find out more. Few souls would not feel instantly safe knowing Valoris to be their protector.

Chapter Text

Anivia took pity on her adjutants by taking the seat across from Valoris so the three of them did not have to face him directly. If she had known he was coming, she would’ve ordered a larger transporter.

Another promise to Guilliman that Anivia kept was to prioritize training. This meant that, instead of having zero adjutant, she now had three.

Teka Fujin had been with Anivia the longest and was going to be promoted at some point anyway. He was an archivist by training and excelled in all subjects in literature, languages, and history, which Anivia lacked. He was witty in a tame kind of way, perfectly suited for a diplomat.

Sulachana Lamiar was the bright-eyed girl who dared to ask a question in front of Guilliman. She was a new graduate from scholum, initially trained as a field medicae which surprised Anivia. She had an influential family which pulled some strings to have her land inside the Palace as an Adept. She was quick, smart, observant, if a little green.

Finally, there was Nora Felanx. She was the most senior of them all, with more service years than Anivia had been alive. She was Macraggean, and had been Guilliman’s second duty officer for quite some time. She could get things done, even though she still had not fully acclimated to Terra yet. Anivia did not know if Guilliman intended for some of these Macraggeans to stay on Terra even after he was gone. Regardless, Nora was a big help.

Anivia took out her data slate with the intention of replying to some messages, but had to give up as soon as the transporter encountered the first slightest turbulence. She instinctually covered her mouth, almost dropping the data slate.

“Are you alright, my lord?” Asked Nora concernedly.

“It’s just motion sickness,” explained Teka, “one of the many permanent properties of our lord’s body which she refuses to remember.”

“My memory is limited, Teka,” moaned Anivia. She was not the type who did not believe in self-care. She truly did not remember.

“Here, have some water, my lord, and close your eyes,” said Sulachana, putting her medicae training to use. “If you wish, I could read these messages for you.”

Anivia did as she said and handed her the data slate.

“The first message is from Lord High Admiral.” Sulachana looked at the data slate. “Should I read it?”

Teka had a strange expression on his face but said nothing. Anivia nodded.

“Anivia Lux Syrren, um…” Sulachana immediately stopped. She knew that the High Lords sometimes spoke to each other with their given names, but this was clearly not a display of affection. She looked at Anivia, who still had her eyes closed. She then looked at Teka, who still had that strange expression, like he knew what was going to happen.

“That’s alright.” Anivia reassured her. “Continue.”

Sulachana took a deep breath and continued. “Anivia Lux Syrren. Do you truly have no honor upon your wretched soul? Do you truly believe that you alone are above tradition, wisdom, history, and everything that got us here and kept us alive? Do you truly feel so secure under the protection of your primarch friend and those dangerous games you have been playing with forces beyond your control? You will regret this, the Lux. You will regret this deeply.”

It had been some time since Anivia heard herself referred to as “the Lux”, and it deeply amused her. She began to chuckle, and immediately choked on her water.

What followed as a violent coughing fit. Anivia bent forward in an attempt to stabilize herself, but her coughing was uncontrollable.

She laughed as she coughed, and then suddenly remembered that Valoris was also in the transporter. His face was still perfectly stoic, but the sight of him made Anivia check herself, or at least tried to.

If he was to fail his mission of keeping her alive, Valoris was convinced, it would have been her own doing.

He could not fathom how it was possible to choke on water, just as he could not fathom how a creature so frail could hold so much power inside her.

Most mortal officials had their hair tied up when on duty. Anivia was not one of them because having her hair tied back gave her headaches—another concept Valoris couldn’t comprehend. As she coughed, her soft black hair fell upon her shoulders, half covering her flustered face, making her look even more fragile.

Her eyes were of a silvery grey color, unusual for a mortal. It was the result of an almost-successful poison attempt which left her nearly blind for about a year. It was unclear why she did not choose bionic augmentation like anyone else would. She recovered eventually.

She looked at him almost apologetically but could not utter a word. Her eyes were wet from coughing tears, like a pair of freshly extracted pearls. Nora held her tight in a motherly posture which seemed to have helped.

“What did you do to the Lord High Admiral, my lord?” The question came from Teka but it was primarily for Sulachana’s benefit. None of them knew the details but both he and Nora had seen this kind of disputes between lords enough times that they were no longer curious. Sulachana was dying to know. Thankfully, she had also begun to learn to be cautious with her questions.

“I enlisted the Imperial Fist to help with the reconstruction of several defense depots,” said Anivia simply. “I’ve been told that the Imperial Fists are especially architecturally talented.”

Right. It’s amazing that the Lord High Admiral hasn’t issued an assassination order yet. Or perhaps she did. Perhaps this is why Valoris is here. Teka and Nora exchanged glances, which confirmed that they were thinking the exact same thing.

The Imperial Fists were, of course, architecturally talented. It was their gene-sire who designed the Imperial Palace after all, whose defense was instrumental in the war against the arch-traitor. It was precisely because of this that the military branches of Adeptus Terra had been extremely wary of letting the Imperial Fists anywhere near their blueprints. The Astartes’ presence on Terra’s defense structures was uncomfortable but necessary. None of them wanted to cede further control by getting them involved in the building or, Throne forbid, designing of the structures.

After a moment of silence, Teka cleared his throat, “would you like me to draft a reply, lord?”

“You can draft and send it on my behalf.” Said Anivia with an amused expression. “And when she sends the same message tomorrow after hearing of what I’m doing today, you can reply for me again as well.”

Chapter Text

There had been more space marines inside the Palace since Guilliman’s return than the past hundred years combined. Even then, one thousand space marines was too many to bring at once without causing panic. This was why Anivia had to leave the Palace to meet them.

One thousand Ultramarine descendants gathered together in a garrison they borrowed from the Imperial Fists. All of them wore armors of blue and gold, with the symbol of Ultramar imprinted across their chestplates. Not all of them were from the same chapter.

They stood in an orderly formation as mortal officers poured inside the meeting hall. Valoris came in last, dressed in his usual black cloak over golden armor. One thousand pairs of superhuman eyes immediately fell upon him, instinctually searching for any possibilities of weakness. He was as calm as ever and didn’t even return the gaze.

Very few souls would ever have the (mis)fortune to see this many space marines gathered together, including they themselves. There had been continuous rumors that Guilliman was bringing back his legion, much in violation to his own Codex Astartes. It was scandalous as well as terrifying.

Anivia had switched back into business mode and did not care about any of that. She walked through the crowd in a purposeful manner. A raised platform was prepared for her, along with a vox-caster.

“I believe the primarch has debriefed you, so I will skip the introduction.” She said. “I will make three requests of you today.”

If the Custodes were capable of amazement, then watching Anivia speak was the closest Valoris had gotten to that emotional state.

Anivia was, in fact, not a great public speaker. She did not command the crowd like Slyst did. Her words were too plain, her tone too rational, her composure too calm. For someone who had no real military training, her mannerism was exactly like that of a captain or general.

“Each of you are to be paired with a team from one of the following departmentos: the Departmento Munitorum, the Adeptus Arbites, the Officio Medicae, the Adeptus Ministorum. If you have existing contacts that meet the criteria, report them to me. If you have a desire to avoid some of them, also report them to me. You may believe you can endure anything that I assign you, but I would rather that you are not enduring. This is my first request.”

“Second, each of you are to prepare a story of combat, to be shared with citizens while you are on your quest. Duplicates are allowed. Here are the parameters: no mention of the arch-enemy of humanity. No detailed description of xenos. No massive destruction of civilization of any kind. The story must be true. I will trust your judgments and will not review your stories.”

“Finally, in the next hour, I and my assistants would like to talk to you. We are not looking for anything in particular. All I ask is that you talk to us when we approach. Any questions?”

There was no question, for her commands were given in exactly the language that Astartes understood. Though there was no denial of its efficiency, Valoris wondered if it was her dislike of speeches that made her practice her brevity.

An hour later, they were back on the transporter, headed for the Palace.

Anivia looked tired. Valoris did not know why. He had watched her intently for the entire hour. If he concentrated, he could make out her voice within the ocean of conversations that were happening everywhere all at once. He knew for a fact that Anivia did not talk to that many Ultramarines. When she did, it was almost entirely empty pleasantries which should not have required much thought.

Yet she looked tired, even more so than her adjutants, all of whom had been running around talking to as many as they could. They were breathless but excited.

“Impressions?” Anivia ordered simply, as the transporter took off.

“They are really cooperative!” Sulachana blurted out first in excitement. “I totally expected them to give me the cold shoulders. Or worse.”

“Well, Lord Guilliman did handpick them for us.” Teka said in Anivia’s stead as the latter rested.

“I have met some of them,” said Nora. “They are, predictably, not excited about this whole endeavour, but they understand its practicals. I believe this will be a success.”

Anivia’s expression didn’t change. She simply said, “anything else?”

Her fatigue made her look dispassionate. The three adjutants paused. They exchanged nervous glances, unsure if they had disappointed their lord.

Anivia closed her eyes again and instructed softly, “imagine you are an Imperial citizen. You’ve lived in a hive spire your entire life, working in a factorum underground. You have no idea if Ultramar is a system, a planet, or a person. You can’t tell an Astartes apart from a Custodes, or, indeed, just a very tall man. You don’t know if they are wearing armour or if they are actually robots. One day you wake up and you meet one of them. He talks to you. What are your impressions?”

The three adjutants fell silent, closing their eyes in imagination. Anivia waited patiently, sipping her water.

After a long period of silence, Teka spoke first. “They are too loud. Not the sound of their speech but the hum of their armour. It’s worse when they walk. If I didn’t expect them to speak my language, I wouldn’t have noticed the words from the noise.”

Anivia smiled at him encouragingly. Teka blushed a little.

“They are so… blue.” Sulachana frowned. “I don’t know how to describe it. They are very blue and that makes them appear otherworldly. I mean I know they are from another world. I guess Terra doesn’t have this much blue.”

Anivia looked at Nora, who immediately understood her. “I will have Terran-style robes made for them. In grey, perhaps?”

“Grey is fine,” nodded Anivia. “I still want people to know that they are from Ultramar. Be sure to put the Ultramar symbol somewhere visible.” Nora took notes.

“Good.” Anivia smiled. “Anything else?”

Chapter Text

Anivia had always been busy, but now she really felt it.

As Guilliman commanded, she had been prioritizing the training of new officials. This meant that her work was very fragmented. One day she was going through balance sheets in the Logisticarum; the next she would be attending a tithe negotiation. She felt like all she did was dashing from one place to another. She hadn’t seen the inside of her library in over a month.

Nora had taken up the role of managing her schedules. This included planning transportation, informing Valoris of out-of-Palace movements, and reminding her lord to eat, which was another aspect of life Anivia routinely forgot.

Teka was, as he had been, in charge of communications and data transfer. Working under the direct command of Anivia, rather than as one of several secretaries as he had been, had allowed his natural acuity with words and cultures to flourish.

Perhaps most impressively of all, Sulachana managed to absorb a great deal of Anivia’s mode of operation, at least when it came to training. She soon took up the task of planning training sessions and even learned to make adjustments to better suit the temperaments of the trainees. While Anivia possessed the ability to evaluate a person quickly and accurately, this kind of exercise was never enjoyable to her, and the accuracy of her evaluation never went beyond professional competence and, perhaps, loyalty. Sulachana, on the other hand, seemed to have a talent for gossip. She was not as efficient as Anivia but, if given some time, could decipher any intricate web of interpersonal relationships she encountered.

When the Ultramarines completed their tasks, the Adeptus Administratum was back to its full functional capacity. It was, in fact, more efficient than before, thanks to the optimizations Anivia made off-handedly as she dashed around across the Palace.

Anivia walked alone at night.

Most of the Palace hallways did not have external windows. Still, the lumens would be dimmed during night time so that servants, many of whom never got to see windows, could observe the appropriate day-night cycle.

It was uncommon for Anivia to be by herself nowadays and she rather missed it.

Guilliman’s chamber was not far from hers. She had requested an urgent audience with him. She had to do it late at night because she did not receive the document that prompted this until she returned to her chamber late at night, as was so often the case these days.

By now, Anivia had gathered that Guilliman did not sleep. She didn’t know if all primarchs didn’t sleep or if it was just Guilliman. They probably taught it at scholum, in one of the many classes she didn’t go.

He kept a modest staff on night shift so he could work through the night, but Anivia did not see any of them.

Instead, Guilliman was waiting in the antechamber by himself. He was idly looking at a dataslate, which provided the only real illumination in the room.

There was plenty of ambient light, mostly from the Palace’s external lumens outside the windows. By now, Anivia had also gathered that both Guilliman and the space marines could see in the dark, which meant that they often forgot that Anivia couldn’t.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me on such a short notice.” She said as she entered Guilliman’s chamber. It was slightly brighter inside, thanks to a dim reading light on the coffee table.

“Thank you for coming at such an hour.” Guilliman replied, “how may I be of service?”

As she was getting ready to speak, Anivia suddenly realized that this was the first time she came to his quarters. He had sought her out twice, and they had kept in touch through messages and reports. But she had not yet visited him before today.

In Anivia’s defence, Guilliman had never summoned her, even though he had summoned almost every other high-ranking bureaucrat in the Palace.

Still, she should have visited him at least as many times as he visited her. It was a small thing. Trivial, perhaps. But it bothered her.

Anivia made a mental note that she should come here at least a second time.

“This is about the personnel changes you plan to institute, which I didn’t see until just now.”

“Yes. I met with the new Chancellor, Jek, this afternoon for council, who agreed with my choices.” Guilliman said in a perfectly innocent tone, “do you object?”

“I—may I ask what your plans are for those displaced?”

“They will clear out of the Palace and be barred from re-entrance.”

Anivia bit her lips. She was not one of those believers of the mantra “only in death does service end” such that they would literally kill people upon exiting office, but it was not like she had a good alternative to offer either.

“You look troubled.” Observed Guilliman, “what is the matter?”

Anivia was tired. It was the end of a long day and she would usually be asleep by now. This was perhaps the reason why she did not notice the unnaturalness of Guilliman’s response.

“It’s—with these changes, there is going to be a coup, almost certainly.” Anivia decided to stop with the mind games and say what she came here to say.

“Hmm.” Guilliman made a thinking noise. “That would not surprise me. Do you have any guesses on who would attempt a thing like that?”

Anivia picked up the few pages of parchment on his coffee table that had the same personnel displacement plan as she had read earlier. Without thinking, she picked up the pen he gestured at and started putting marks next to some names.

Guilliman let her work in silence. After she was done, he took the parchment and examined it.

Then he smiled.

“You were wrong,” Guilliman said, almost triumphantly, “Grand Master.”

The darkness inside the room stirred. A familiar laughter seeped out from the walls. Quiet. Crackling.

Anivia turned around with a blank expression.

“How delightful,” the Grand Master of Assassins dragged out his words, “to know that the Little Light still trusts me, after all these years.”

“Fadix,” said Anivia simply.

The room suddenly became brighter. Guilliman had turned on more lumens.

He was almost regretting this. He had expected that the Grand Master of Assassins wouldn’t be the pinnacle of honesty, but he had nevertheless allowed himself to be misled by Fadix’s pretension of familiarity with Anivia. It was clear to him now that Fadix and Anivia knew each other well, but it was not at all the kind of intimacy he had been led to believe.

Anivia took a deep breath to refocus herself. When she spoke again, it was as if she had put on an invisible armor and pulled out an invisible blade, ready for the battle dance.

“Let me guess. You convinced Lord Guilliman into a bet with you about whether I would take you for a traitor.” Anivia said calmly.

Fadix made a noise of affirmation.

“But of course you would know that I wouldn’t make that mistake,” Anivia said. “Not again. This means you intended to lose.”

“You know me too well.” Fadix smiled.

Anivia did not. She continued, “what was the bet about, then? What does the winner receive? You were playing a game but Lord Guilliman was not. So it had to be about your apparent disagreement in managing the coup. Now that Lord Guilliman has won, you would go with his plan. Do you secretly prefer his solution to your own? Perhaps. Perhaps you simply expected that I would side with you and are now waiting for my objection.”

She had not quite plunged her invisible blade into Fadix’s flesh yet but Guilliman could tell she was getting close. He felt a strange kind of excitement, like he was about to watch his favorite warrior perform a combat demonstration. For all the insanity and inhumanity that marked the World Eaters’ gladiator pits, Guilliman had always understood the art of it.

“Even if I am on your side, it wouldn’t have been enough. It is entirely Lord Guilliman’s decision, after all.” Anivia continued. “So what were you hoping to see, exactly?”

Fadix’s smile faded. As an assassin, his gaze was particularly calculated to instill fear. This had rarely worked on Anivia even under normal circumstances. With the primarch in the room, silently watching like a judge before his court, none of Fadix’s usual tools carried any weight.

Anivia stood perfectly still. Even with the additional lumens she could barely make out the silhouette of his figure, which hid in the shadow of one of the marble pillars. She was so physically weak. Yet she was so in control.

Fadix hated it.

Just as he thought this, Anivia’s lips curled into a smile. She said, slowly and deliberately, “did you think I would be able to convince Lord Guilliman to change his mind? Were you hoping I would disobey him? Or, perhaps, you just want to see me try. You just wanted to see something. Anything. You are the master of spies, after all.”

After what felt like an eternity, Fadix threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat, “I shall institute a new tenant in all of my Temples: do not cross the Lux.”

Anivia gave a gentle bow and sheathed her invisible sword. She turned back to Guilliman, “I apologize, my lord. I’m sure you didn’t summon me just to—”

She paused, remembering that first, he didn’t summon her and second, he did engineer this meeting just to watch her quarrel with Fadix.

Anivia let out a quiet sigh, “I apologize, my lord. I am tired.”

“It is I who should apologize,” said Guilliman honestly. “I wish that you do not take this as a sign of distrust.”

He would’ve said more had Fadix not been here. But then again he wouldn’t have had to say more if he didn’t allow Fadix to play the game.

Fadix subscribed to the Static doctrine, which meant that he believed in the impossibility of reform. There was a series of twisted reasons that led to his decision to help Guilliman subjugate the coup which Guilliman had decided were sincere. Nevertheless, Guilliman understood that Fadix was a dangerous weapon.

Most of his weapons were dangerous nowadays, including Anivia.

Anivia, as usual, understood what Guilliman did not say and why he did not say it.

She simply nodded in acknowledgement and turned back to business, “may I ask what, exactly, was your plan, my lord?”

She had a pretty confident guess of what Guilliman’s plan would have been but, same as Guilliman, Anivia did not want Fadix to know the full extent to which they had come to understand each other.

“A statement.” Guilliman said, “with the Grand Master’s help, I intend to stoke the fire until it burns bright enough for everyone to see. Only then would no one dare any further.”

Fadix had been right. She did not like this plan.

Half of her wondered if all of this was part of Guilliman’s scheme to force her hand. She could not argue with him now, lest Fadix got what he wanted despite the drama.

The other half of her was confused by this conjecture—Guilliman had proven himself capable of heeding mortal advice, but he was still the Imperial Regent. If he had ordered her to obey, she wouldn’t have refused him. Was all the theatrics really necessary?

In the end, all she could say was simply, “as you command.”

Chapter Text

Anivia did not attend the ceremony in person.

She was in her library, finally having a day to herself. She had a vid-feed of the ceremony running in the background as she idled on the couch with several books open, trying to read all of them but processing none.

Roboute Guilliman was a natural leader. Again, Anivia did not know if all primarchs were like this—they were all made to be commanders of legions after all. She had since heard that Guilliman, in particular, was designed for strategic planning and diplomacy. This would explain the permanent aura of inspiration emanating from his every movement, as well as his peculiar interest in her work.

If that was true, then he really should’ve known.

Anivia sighed. She looked over at the vid-feed again. The ceremony was scheduled to end in 47 minutes, which meant she’d have to go to the reception in 107 minutes. Well, technically, she was hosting that reception, but Jek did all the work.

The truth of the matter was, Anivia was grumpy.

Guilliman’s plan with the coup was, objectively speaking, quite perfect. In essence, he wanted Fadix to play along until the coup felt secure enough to broadcast their messages across the entire planet, then he would perform a public assassination. It would be a statement that would warn off ill-wishers for decades, if not outright eliminating them all at once.

With Fadix’s help, the chance for success was quite high. It also saved Anivia a lot of work and potential headaches.

Still, Anivia was grumpy.

She couldn’t quite tell if, despite Guilliman’s proclamation to the contrary, it really ought to be interpreted as a sign of distrust—not distrust of her loyalty, but distrust of her ability. He was willing to cooperate with a Static psychopath to lessen her workload. That thought annoyed her.

Had she always been such a workaholic?

The question amused her. As if to prove otherwise, she closed all of her books and decided to take a bath.

The reception was held in an enormous ballroom that opened onto a yard.

Like all Administratum-sponsored gatherings, there was no opening speech. Anivia got rid of them as soon as she took office.

Her gaze landed on Guilliman as soon as she stepped through the door. He was at the other side of the room and so she couldn’t tell what he was doing. In fact, she couldn’t even tell which way he was facing.

She wasn’t trying to look at Guilliman. She didn’t need to see him. In fact, Anivia had planned to spend the entire evening without talking to him.

But even from the other side of the room, he attracted attention. He was one of those people who could not go anywhere or do anything without attracting attention.

Anivia thought back to the night they first met. How could she have missed him then?

A herd of nobles came up to greet Anivia. Some of their excitement was even genuine.

“Jek.” Anivia greeted the new Chancellor, “I believe I have yet to congratulate you in person. I see you have already adjusted to your post. This evening is turning out wonderfully.”

“I thank you, my lord.” Anna-Murza Jek bowed.

To be perfectly honest, Jek looked rather tired. She had always been a confident woman and knew her own worth. Whenever they worked together, Anivia could sense Jek analyzing her decisions and comparing them to her own judgment. Anivia did not mind it. In fact, she respected Jek all the more for it.

But now that they met again, for the first time after Tieron’s retirement, something seemed to have changed in Jek. When she looked at Anivia, she looked up at her. It was almost like, instead of holding in a secret rivalry, she no longer considered Anivia as being on the same playing field anymore. The way she looked at her, it was almost like…how they all looked at Guilliman.

“Are you all right, Anna-Murza?” Anivia lowered her voice.

“I—” Jek looked surprised, then conflicted, then she whispered, “I am all right, Anivia, thank you. I’m just a little tired.”

Anivia could tell that this wasn’t the truth, but at least Jek stopped looking at her in awe. Anivia nodded. This was not a good place for that kind of talk anyway.

Grumpiness was in fact not the reason why Anivia skipped the ceremony.

In order for Fadix to be successful, Anivia must not appear too close to Guilliman. She would be considered loyal to him and she would be a Reformer, but if she was going to convincingly let Fadix succeed, she must appear as if she didn’t care that much.

After coming back from Guilliman’s chambers that night, Anivia did a thorough analysis of her own movement. She concluded that, with the exception of Fadix and Valoris, both of whom must partake in this plan anyway, no one else would have reasons to suspect the depth of her collaboration with Guilliman.

It was true that several Adepts had observed their exchange once, but very few lords considered Adepts real people who had actual intelligence. Again, with the exception of Fadix, due to his occupation. In the worst case scenario, Anivia’s sudden distancing of herself could be seen as a schism, caused by some clash of personality or the speculation that Guilliman sent Nora over as a spy.

That was the real loss. Nora would have to return to Guilliman.

As Anivia mingled with the lesser lords of Terra, she discovered that they were not that surprised by her sudden disinterest in Guilliman. In fact, after several glasses of wine, several of them recounted their earlier surprise that Anivia so readily accepted the primarch’s authority.

“I don’t mean to doubt him but…you’ve done so much for us,” they’d say, “and he is so new to Terra. He doesn’t know our Imperium. He doesn’t understand our way of life like you do, my lord.”

Even when he was in the room, they dared to whisper these words.

Anivia looked up again at the other side of the hall. Guilliman looked, frankly speaking, rather ridiculous. He was in full armor—without helmet, but that didn’t help much given his height. A dozen space marines, also in full armor and with weapons, followed his steps. Anivia couldn’t possibly imagine this to be anything less than torturous for him.

This is what you get for not letting me take care of it. She thought childishly.

Chapter Text

In the next few months, Guilliman instituted a number of radical changes to various elements of Adeptus Terra, including dissolving the High Council. Because Anivia was not about to turn traitor, she carried out these reforms without question.

Many of them had been in line with what Anivia had discussed with Guilliman or Nora on other occasions. This led more people to believe that the Master of the Administratum only tolerated Guilliman because of some arrangement they had reached in secrecy. In a way, they were not wrong.

Just as Anivia was beginning to think that she wouldn’t get the chance to visit him a second time, the summon came. This time, it was an actual summon.

Strangely enough, it was still scheduled in the evening, right before dinner time.

Because Guilliman didn’t sleep, Anivia figured, he probably didn’t eat often either. She was sure that Teka had given her a full lecture on primarch myths multiple times already, but her memory was limited and she had to optimize it for useful things.

Anivia went alone as requested. In fact, she went through a secret pathway that she didn’t know existed.

Anivia arrived at Guilliman’s massive chamber and was surprised to discover the chamber, once again, was almost empty.

Other than herself, there was no mortal in the chamber. Guilliman was there, of course, along with two space marines. Their faces looked familiar. Anivia had seen them by Guilliman’s side before.

Behind them was a massive table with…food on it. There were two chairs next to the table. One very big. One very small.

“Good evening, Master, I’m glad to see you.” Guilliman said almost cheerfully, “I was hoping that you could join me for dinner.”

Anivia nodded, still speechless.

“But before then, I would like to introduce you to two of my sons—Captain Vitrian Messinius and Captain Cato Sicarius. They are two of my greatest warriors and most trusted allies.”

The two space marines saluted Anivia. They bore it well but Anivia could tell they were as confused as she was.

Anivia gave a light bow, “Captains.”

She could tell that Guilliman was, once again, taking pleasure in her confusion. Considering that he was soon going to leave Terra for the Indomitus Crusade and that there was a decent chance she would never see him again, she decided to let him have his fun.

“I assume you are not planning to have your esteemed sons stand here and watch me eat,” Anivia smiled. “I hope I have not offended you enough to be deserving of such a punishment.”

Guilliman laughed.

The two space marines did not laugh. Sicarius’s face softened a little. Messinius stared at Anivia in deep suspicion.

Anivia turned to Messinius, “if you are that confident in my ability to harm your lord, then I am deeply flattered. You can join us for dinner.”

“I apologize, lord Syrren.” Messinius said sternly.

It was rumored that space marines had no sense of humor because they didn’t have anything that was not directly related to killing. Anivia never believed it. Now she wasn’t so sure.

“Go easy on my sons,” Guilliman said indulgingly. It was such a strange thing to say to a baseline human, but he said it so naturally it took Messinius a second to register.

“My apologies, Captains.” Anivia gave another bow, “I thank you for your efforts in keeping us alive.”

After the space marines left, Anivia sat down at the table.

The table was made to suit the size of a primarch and Anivia had to climb up a ladder to take her seat. She felt like a child in a toddler chair. This made her smile.

Guilliman was relieved to see that Anivia did not interpret the arrangement as offensive, as many other Terran lords would have done. He poured wine for both of them.

“What do you think of them?” Asked Guilliman suddenly.

It took Anivia a couple of seconds to realize what he meant—she had a strange feeling that the way Guilliman talked to her had become progressively…economical. It wasn’t uncommon for him to jump over several key logical steps while expecting her to follow his train of thought.

“Do you mean their ability to interact courteously with Terran officials?” Anivia replied, “better than many Astartes I’ve encountered but not surprising for Captains.”

Guilliman sighed, “it has always been difficult for Astartes to collaborate with baseline humans. It was because of this that I decided to forbid Astartes from participating in Imperial politics. That had been a mistake which I’m now going to remedy. But it’s difficult. Honestly, I myself find it difficult to hold my composure when the priests wail and sing at me.”

Anivia almost snorted. She had seen the Ecclesiarchy do exactly that at the bare sight of Guilliman and had immediately turned around onto a different hallway.

She looked up and saw him pleased with her reaction.

“You must wonder what this is all about,” said Guilliman softly.

“My guess is that you’d like to get to know me in a setting that does not look like an interrogation,” said Anivia, “but I don’t know why.”

Guilliman fell silent for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. When he spoke again, his voice was distant.

“When my father walked the earth and led us in the Great Crusade, he had a companion. His name was Malcador the Sigillite, later changed to Malcador the Hero after he sacrificed himself so my father could take down Horus. Malcador was a powerful psyker and a perpetual, but he was physically human. Many of us didn’t like him. We were jealous, you see. No one was anywhere nearly as close to my father as Malcador.

“They trusted each other like they trusted no one else. When my father reclaimed civilizations for humanity, he had Malcador manage them. It was Malcador who established much of the Adeptus Administratum and other branches of Imperial governance.

“Malcador made mistakes just as my father made mistakes. I intend to avoid making the same mistakes they did, but I can’t deny the genius of what Malcador managed to accomplish. As disappointed as I am with the state of the Imperium today, I must also be impressed by the fact that the structures Malcador set up managed to hold things together, if only barely, for ten thousand years.

“The Imperium needs to change now. I am determined to make it happen. With the Indomitus Crusade I will reclaim the lost stars and save humanity from the evils of chaos. While I am doing that, I need someone to take care of the Imperium for me, just as Malcador did for my father, ten thousand years ago.

“I want you to be that person.”

Anivia blinked. Then she blinked again.

Instead of helping her find words, her mind decided to leave her body so it could watch both of them from above. Guilliman’s smile was soft, like he was trying not to startle a small animal. Anivia was that small animal, and she was very much startled.

“I um—” she thought that if she could start to say something, anything at all, more words would come to her. They didn’t.

“I understand that this is a lot for you—a lot of information and a lot of demand.” Guilliman said gently, almost in a whisper, “but tell me first, when you are ready to speak, does this idea scare you?”

He waited patiently. In fact, he began to slowly eat his food so she would not feel pressured to respond immediately.

Anivia closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Did this idea scare her? She was already managing the Imperium at the highest level of authority—highest, at least, before Guilliman’s return. She was, by all accounts, the most politically powerful mortal in the entire Imperium. If she was honest with herself, it was not Guilliman’s request that scared her; it was the implication that she would be like Malcador.

She could manage the Imperium, yes. But could she manage it like Malcador did?

At that moment, she suddenly understood him. She suddenly understood why he looked so tired all the time even though his superhuman physiology was built for much harsher wars.

He was a legend, a myth, a demigod. People looked up to him for guidance. They did as he commanded because they trusted he would be right. They happily died for him. They waited for him to speak and then they listened.

But he couldn’t see himself as a myth. He couldn’t look to himself for guidance. He couldn’t wait for himself to command. Was he always right? Of course not. How many people would die because of his mistakes? They worshiped him. They obeyed him. They followed him into the darkness because they trusted in his path.

But to him, there was no path.

Only darkness.

“It must have been so, so difficult for you.” Words came back to Anivia as she opened her eyes again. “It must have been so unbelievably difficult for you even just to decide to stay alive.”

Guilliman’s eyes widened and he seemed shook. He opened his mouth to discover that it was his turn to lose his words.

“To answer your question, I am not scared.” Anivia smiled, “I’m not scared because I’m not alone. And if I’m lucky, you won’t be alone either.”

I am already not alone. Guilliman thought.

Chapter Text

“So, what would you like to know about me?” Anivia smiled at the first bite of her food. She was not an indulgent person—if she were, she would be eating food like this for every meal just like Tieron did. Nevertheless, she appreciated these simple delights of life.

Guilliman was also eating. He ate slowly, deliberately, and without obvious expression of enjoyment. Anivia couldn’t help but think that he was eating for her benefit. To keep her company.

Perhaps they didn’t have a sense of taste. She imagined that taste wasn’t necessary for war either.

Just as her mind began to wander, Guilliman replied, as calmly as ever.

“I was hoping to start with the topic of faith and religion.”

Anivia choked on her wine.

Between coughing fits she could see that Guilliman did see the humor in this but did not expect the intensity of her reaction.

“Are you all right?” He looked as if he thought about lending a hand, but one gentle pat on the back from him and Anivia would need to join the Mechanicum and replace her spine. He gave up the idea.

“Just to be clear, that wasn’t my answer.” Anivia pulled a face. Guilliman chuckled.

“I suspected you would ask me this question sooner or later.” Anivia replied after a brief moment of thought, “I have heard—people have warned me—of your vehement denial of the Emperor’s and your own divinity.”

“That is correct, though I have since learned to be more forgiving of this aspect of the new Imperium.”

“I have thought about what I would answer if you were to ask me. I don’t think it’ll be a satisfying answer, but perhaps it won’t be a frustrating one either.” Anivia paused for a moment to gather her words. “To tell you the truth, I don’t think about faith often. Whether or not the Emperor is a god does not change what I need to do for the Imperium. There is no denial that He is very powerful. There is no denial that you are very powerful. How powerful is powerful enough to count as divine? I just do not find this question especially interesting.”

Guilliman thought about her answer for a moment and observed, “what you said is unusual for a mortal, but quite similar to the answers given to me by my sons.”

Anivia smiled, “you are not the first to make this observation. I have been told that the way I think bears remarkable resemblance to the Astartes. Perhaps this is why they tolerate me more than they tolerate other mortal bureaucrats.

“In all seriousness, though, my attitude is not unusual amongst the High Lords. Ordinary Imperial citizens have very little control over their lives, so they need to believe that someone else—someone omnipotent and infallible—is watching over them. I, as well as your Astartes, do not need such a belief. We can afford to be uninterested in the question of divinity.”

Guilliman nodded. This was his analysis as well, and the reason why he had stopped rebuking mortals for their practice of faith.

Anivia continued, “you, on the other hand, are on the opposite of the spectrum. You have conversed with the Emperor. You saw Him as a father. You have undoubtedly disagreed with Him. And now you see all these people, none of them knew Him or you or anything remotely related to either of you. You see that they blindly trust a being they have no conception of to watch over them. It must look absurd to you.”

Guilliman blinked. Anivia had put it very diplomatically. In fact, she very probably didn’t realize the real meaning behind her words. But Guilliman understood the full weight of the truth in them.

He was jealous. He was resentful.

His father had lied to him and used him as a tool. He had tried so hard to please Him—all of his brothers had tried so hard to please Him—and it was never enough. Nothing any of them did was ever enough. And yet these mortal humans claimed that they had His blessing. They, whose accomplishment in their entirely lifetime could not rival that of a primarch in a day, thought they had what Guilliman was never able to have.

Of course he was resentful.

It was not the first time Anivia had seen through him in a way he had not intended, yet Guilliman was not angry. Part of this might have been because he had, more or less, come to terms with the fact that he was going to have to fight for the Emperor’s vision not for the Emperor, but despite Him. Part of this might also be that, by saying the words out loud, Anivia had made his confliction seemed more…reasonable, and hence resolvable.

“Your observations are correct, as usual.” Guilliman sighed gently, “perhaps more than you know.”

“Theology is important, but there is also the more pragmatic matter of the Ecclesiarchy.” Anivia continued evenly. She never used the theoretical-practical dialectic that was the hallmark of Macraggean thinking, but Guilliman had always found the way she presented information to be very much in line with that style of analysis.

“Even if you do not believe in any of their tenants, the Ecclesiarchy performs many important social functions,” continued Anivia. “And there is always space to modify the parts of their practice you deem harmful. I suggest that you try to get a more comprehensive picture of what the Ecclesiarchy does for the Imperium before deciding what to do with them.”

“You already speak like a regent,” observed Guilliman with a smile.

Anivia blushed a little. She did not mean to give orders to the Lord Commander, but his mannerism made it easy for her to speak her mind.

“That was a compliment,” said Guilliman, still smiling. “I agree with your assessment and will do exactly that. But let’s leave the matter of strategizing to another day.”

“As you please, my lord. What else do you want to know about me?”

Guilliman paused for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice had a strange, almost forced casualness to it, “we have talked about my father. What about yours?”

Anivia seemed to be caught off guard by this question. She frowned for a moment, as if unsure of what he meant.

“I didn’t know him well.” She said eventually, “I was vat-born. Not the way that the Martians are. It was artificial insemination. I was raised by my House to win a schism. I didn’t see my parents often.”

She was going to leave it at that, but something clearly piqued Guilliman’s interest. Half of Anivia was surprised that he didn’t already know. It wasn’t like this was a secret. Not anymore, anyway. But again, perhaps it was precisely because it wasn’t a secret that people who compiled her file didn’t find it significant enough to include.

“I was one of four artificially inseminated identical quadruplets,” explained Anivia. “It was an experiment by my branch of the family to attempt to rustle control. The idea was that we would have different specializations but lived as one unit. We were called the Lux.”

The Lux. Guilliman remembered reading this moniker on one of the files. Anivia Lux was the only surviving member of the Lux, it had said.

“It wasn’t absolutely essential that we passed as one person, but we did try it for a few years at scholum.” Anivia’s face softened as she sunk deeper into memory. “Stella did all of the history courses and learned to speak a dozen languages by the time we were eight years old. Vella did most of the combat training, but we all had to do some because otherwise she’d grown taller than the rest of us. And Loisa…it wasn’t immediately obvious what her talent was but she was our favorite. She was so good at lying that she could get us out of any trouble. Although, to be fair, most of the time she was the one who got us into trouble.”

Guilliman recognized those names from her file. They were denoted as deceased siblings.

“The House Syrren was quite powerful then, with several planetary governors, commissars, naval commanders, and rogue traders on the various family branches. It was also essentially in a state of civil war. Assassination orders were common. And that was how I met Fadix.”

Guilliman looked up at her in genuine surprise. There was absolutely no indication on her file that Fadix had attempted an assassination on her. In fact, what it said was the exact opposite.

Anivia understood his reaction instantly and it amused her. She explained, “Fadix was sent to assassinate us when we were about 10. He was the first outsider to discover that we were four people and not one. He wasn’t the Grand Master then, of course, but he was trying to be. He had to obey his mission, so he followed it to the letter and delivered the poison to ‘the Lux’ by carefully split it up into four non-lethal components and gave each of us a different part. None of us died, though the poison did affect our physical appearances somewhat. I had to wear brown contact lenses since then. Granted, it was easier than pretending I could see, which I also had to do for a period of time after the attack. Anyway, we helped him get rid of his predecessor and he helped us take control of our House.”

In the grand scheme of things, Anivia’s story was not remarkable. The Terran nobility had spent the past ten thousand years perfecting the art of power squabbles and political in-fighting. Compared to some of the practices adopted by the navigator families, what the Syrren family did was quite tame.

Anivia was, in a way, quite similar to Guilliman. They were both created as one tool among many and they were both the strategic ones of the bunch. In another way, though, they were the opposite. Despite their diverging talents, all primarchs were created to be kings. They were wholes who were expected to play parts. Perhaps that was the problem.

Anivia, on the other hand, was a part that could never be whole again. Guilliman had no doubt that, if Anivia wanted, she could readily pick up her sisters’ talents as easily as she had mastered her own—they were identical quadruplets, after all. Yet Anivia had decided to leave those void spaces inside her, waiting for the parts that were forever lost.

After that, they ended up strategizing about the Imperium after all. Such was their nature.

They agreed that the installation of Anivia as regent would wait until Guilliman returned from the Indomitus Crusade but Anivia would start on the necessary prep work. Anivia finally understood why Guilliman was insistent on having Fadix deal with the coup and for her to liaison over the Restoration. She also understood what Guilliman meant when he said that he had much work to give her when she thought he was trying to interrogate her about the Grey Knights, though she was surprised that this idea was on his mind that early in their acquaintance.

They confirmed their priorities with the reform. Guilliman’s was to supply the Crusade. Anivia’s was to increase efficiency and crisis-responsiveness at the lower levels. They went over a few angles to make sure their instincts aligned. Once Guilliman departed, they wouldn’t be able to confer like this anymore. Astropathic communication was too unreliable and vague for this sort of discussion.

They anticipated the challenges that laid in their futures and how the other might be able to help.

Then, they bid each other farewell.

And Guilliman was gone.

Chapter Text

Anivia didn’t often run. She was reasonably fit but by no means athletic, and she had always been able to calculate her schedule such that she didn’t have to run.

She was running then.

The Indomitus Crusade had left Terra two months ago. The coup was brewing. The Restoration was in full force. And Anivia caught wind of something that made her run.

The Minotaurs were here.

The Minotaur space marines had a bad reputation as brutal, savage, and possibly heretical. They were officially listed as a loyalist chapter but it was unclear where their loyalty really lied.

Anivia knew that the Minotaurs were bound by some ancient treaty to the High Lords of Terra so that they could not refuse any command made by a High Lord in person. If multiple High Lords made conflicting commands, they observed the proper Adeptus Terra hierarchy.

What this meant was that Anivia, in fact, had the highest level of authority over the Minotaurs, though in the absence of her command there was no telling whose bidding they would do.

Anivia had never interacted with the Minotaurs. She read their service record and decided that it would only be worth it in the most desperate of times. Anivia had not yet been that desperate, though it looked like someone else was.

The most problematic part of the Minotaurs was that they seemed to have no issue attacking other loyalist chapters. This was uniquely terrible for the Restoration, which was probably why they were called here.

The Minotaurs were not obligated to obey mediated commands, at least not when there was plausible deniability. If Anivia wanted to take control of the situation, she had to be there in person.

Anivia called for transporter as she ran through the corridors. Both Teka and Sulachana had been on other duties and wouldn’t make it in time. This was probably a good thing as Anivia was pretty sure they did not have the clearance to know about the Minotaurs. She would rather not have to also have a fight with the Inquisition about mind-wiping her adjutants.

It had been a long time since Anivia last left the Palace. Last time she did it, Nora was still with her. In hindsight, all of this was planned out quite brilliantly. The urgent need to be physically present. The absence of a cautionary voice. The sudden disruption of routine.

He really did know her well. Fadix.

To her credit, Anivia did have a tingling feeling that she had forgotten something important as her transporter flew pass the Palace walls. But that was the extent of the credit, for she couldn’t figure out exactly what it was until it was much too late.

A deafening explosion. For a long while, Anivia genuinely thought she had died.

The protection field of her seat absorbed most of the damage, and yet pain passed through her entire body. When she finally regained her vision, she saw the entire left half of the transporter gone.

She couldn’t see if the pilot was still alive, but there was not much he could do with only half a plane. There was not much half of a secondary elevation engine could do either.

For a moment they were falling, swerving and slashing around as they did so. Anivia’s seat belt kept her from being tossed out, though she wasn’t sure how much help this was going to be for her survival.

Then, the emergency parachutes engaged. Only one parachute left but it was enough to slow their fall. Unfortunately, the remaining parachute was attached to the remaining wing, which meant that the transporter was suspended midair on its side, with the hole facing downward.

Anivia fell out of the plane, but not all the way. Her seat belt was still intact, causing her to dangle, choking her by the chest.

She would fall to her death. Or she would be shot. Or she would be strangled by her seat belt.

None of those things happened.

Struggling to stay conscious, Anivia saw a giant thing jump up with inhuman grace. A slash of blade severed her seat belt. It caught her and landed a slightly less graceful landing.

Anivia’s brain struggled to reoxygenate itself. Her vision was blurry and she could hardly hear her own cough.

For a moment, it felt like she was still in the transporter. An iron arm shackled her body tightly just like the seatbelt did. She tried to grip something to stabilize herself but all her fingers could find was a smooth metal plate. For some time they were falling. Then they were rapidly jumping left and right. It was exactly how it felt like when she was still rolling around in that transporter.

There were gunshots everywhere. When Anivia’s cough subsided, she tried to get a better grasp of the situation.

A huge explosion destroyed what little hearing her body managed to recover. She could feel a wave of unnatural heat approaching. Before it fully arrived, though, someone covered her body with a piece of cloth.

She held onto it for dear life.

Chapter Text

Anivia didn’t exactly pass out, but she wasn’t exactly conscious either.

When she regained enough of her senses, they were in an empty, quiet hallway of some description. It appeared abandoned, with shattered windows and broken pillars. No enemy in sight. No friend either.

She was still holding onto something for dear life, which she now recognized to be the Custodian’s black cloak. It was now entirely draped in front of him and looked a little ridiculous. She briefly contemplated dropping it, but as soon as it began to fall through her grip she felt like her heart fell out with it too, so she held on tight.

Trajann Valoris held Anivia with one hand and his spear in the other. He walked slowly along the corridor.

Anivia tried to say something to him, to thank him, perhaps, but all she managed to accomplish was breathe a little louder.

He probably heard her, though he didn’t look down.

Valoris turned into an equally abandoned room and stopped. For a moment Anivia expected him to put her down, and briefly strategized over how to keep her dignity when she would inevitably fall onto the floor, but he didn’t let go.

Instead, he said, slowly and deliberately, “I said all of your movement out of the Palace is to be accompanied by me.”

Right. That was what she forgot.

‘I forgot’ was probably not the answer Valoris wanted to hear, but it was the truth. Anivia tried to say just that, but no sound came out. Nevertheless, Valoris seemed to have understood what she was trying to say.

“Do you plan to tell me that you have forgotten?” His voice was as calm as ever—a little too calm, actually. There was a coldness to it that sent chills down her spine. It was like the calm before the storm, the quiet night before the bloody feast.

Anivia was going to nod, but now she wasn’t sure that was a good idea.

Suddenly, her back was thrown against a wall. For a second there Anivia thought Valoris was going to strangle her.

With one hand under her left arm and the other hand by her right thigh, Valoris held her suspended against the wall so their eyes were at level. It wasn’t a comfortable posture but with the size of Valoris’s hands, it was stable enough.

“Look at me and answer me!” Valoris demanded, the depth of his anger finally showing.

Like all superhumans of incredible might, Valoris’s gaze had an almost-physical presence. Anivia was usually pretty good with superhuman gazes, but with his anger, their proximity, and her injuries, she could hardly think enough to understand his words.

Valoris moved closer, almost whispering in her ear, “tell me, Anivia, are you truly so arrogant as to think yourself invincible? Do you think nothing would ever happen to you?”

Anivia shuddered. It was not so much what he said but the way he said it. There was something boiling just beneath the surface, and it wasn’t just anger.

“Let me tell you once and for all, there is so much that can happen to you. There is so much, you have no idea.” His voice was low now. She could feel his firey breath down her neck.

She lifted a hand to press on his chest plate, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to push him away or simply to steady herself.

Valoris stopped for a moment. He carefully studied her expression, as if he was trying to determine the same, and when he saw her own uncertainty, he could no longer hold it in.

His hand shifted position and was now properly between her legs. He gently rubbed his fingers. A spike of lightening struck through Anivia’s body. She gasped.

She looked at him with hazy eyes, pupils dilated, and he almost lost it.

With the keen, battle-sharpened senses of a Custodes, he could feel the tensing of her every muscle as his fingers worked on her.

Anivia threw her head back and he had to engage his full combat reactiveness to put his free hand behind her head before it hit the wall. This caused her to lose balance and she blinded clawed at his chest plate, trying to find a grip. Valoris moved closer so his arms encircled her, that seemed to have calmed her.

She was wet in his hands. She was shivering under his breath. She was squirming in his arms. She was entirely under his mercy.

The sight of it. Just the sight of it…

Then he slid a finger inside her, and all of her movement ceased. It was like she didn’t dare to move. She didn’t even dare to breathe.

But she was no longer the master of her own body. Valors stared down at her face unblinkingly as he took control. He pressed onto her clit and gently circled, his other finger thrusting in and out of her. Anivia gasped. She let out a moan that almost sounded like a sob. She began to clumsily grind her hip in an attempt to find some rhythm. Valoris sped up his finger movements.

With one last thrust she finally climbed over that hill. She bit into his cloak and let out a muffled cry.

Then, it was blissful darkness.

Chapter Text

At any given time of the day, Anivia was between 20% and 80% sure that that actually happened.

When she woke up again, she was back in the Palace under medicae care. She had various small cuts and bruises throughout her body, all of which were minor.

“Thank the Emperor that Captain-General Valoris was nearby on a mission and he saved you in time. The Emperor protects you my lord.” Teka told her through his tears.

As soon as her reasoning ability returned, Anivia understood exactly what this was. Fadix had staged an assassination as an entrance ticket to the coup. Guilliman must have told him that Valoris was committed to protecting Anivia and Fadix had calculated him to be there. Even though the scheme failed, nobody would deny that the attempt was genuine and the plan was quite ingenious.

The medicae team recommended bedrest and Anivia decided to take that advice. She didn’t need to recover from the shock of a near-death experience like everyone else assumed, but she did need to recover from something.

Something. Whatever that thing was.

Did it really happen, though?

She had not seen Valoris since the incident, which made her think that it probably did happen. Was he avoiding her? Did he think that she would like to avoid him?

Anivia wasn’t sure. She also wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted to do about it. Between the confusion and the delirium, she sensed something profound in him, struggling to get out, almost crying for help. Not anger. Not quite lust either. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it yet, but she sensed that it was important. If she learned anything from this ordeal at all, it was that she should pay more attention to things she missed which felt important.

It was…something. Not anger. Not quite lust.

Valoris was alone in his chamber. It was dark, but not dark enough to drown out the delicately decorated furniture that surrounded him. But if he closed his eyes, he could see himself there again.

The abandoned building, far enough away from all of them. They all wanted to hurt her, but they couldn’t. He was the only one who could hurt her, but he wouldn’t. He would restrain himself.

Just like now, with his eyes closed and his hand on his own erection, he could see how easy it was to let go. To do what he desperately wanted to do for so long.

Fighting was easy. He was made to fight. He was made to hurt. But he was also made to be able to restrain himself. And that was what he would do.

Valoris’s hand moved slowly along his hard, throbbing erection. He could see her eyes. Silver, foggy, dazed, like a small, helpless animal. He let out a long, trembling sigh. He was close. He was almost there.

But he would not cross that line. Not yet. Not now. He would feel that yearning deep in his every bone. It was like fire burning through his veins, a pleasure so intense it was almost painful, and it desperately wanted to escape him. But he wouldn’t let it. He would simply sit there, wanting, desiring, craving.

He felt so, so alive.

Chapter Text

Were the Minotaurs actually there that day?

As far as Anivia was able to gather without arousing suspicion over her proclaimed PTSD, they weren’t. This was a good sign. It meant that the coup took Fadix seriously enough that they didn’t consider involving the Minotaurs just to test Anivia. It also meant that Anivia didn’t have to deal with the Minotaurs.

Anivia was not a convincing actor. She was reasonably good at knowing which attitude was the most beneficial in a given situation, but she had been in power for too long she had lost the instinct to please others.

She decided that, instead of trying to convince the other High Lords that she was terrified in a way that she never was, not even during the Battle of the Lion’s Gate, she would simply not see them.

This was easy enough. Since Guilliman’s departure, every faction was reevaluating their own standing in the new Era Indomitus. Even the loyalists were spending much of their effort trying to find as many loopholes, or ‘opportunities’, as they could before someone else did. Many of them were happy to see the Master of the Administratum slack off.

At the same time, the High Lords had historically burned out pretty easily. Anivia was a little too young for that but given what she had been through, nobody could blame her.

So she happily let Sulachana and Teka take the reign while she hid inside the lower Administratum departmentos.

Before Anivia became the Master of the Administratum, she was in the Departmento Processium. This would shock anyone who heard it, because the Departmento Processium was widely considered as the worst part of the Administratum.

Sure, the Officio Medicae had greater chances of death. The Officio Agricultae had to deal with filthy peasants. The Departmento Exacta negotiated tithe with greedy off-world lords which often involved getting dangerously close to forbidden knowledge and the prospect of mind-wipes. The Hisorical Revision Unit dealt closely with the Inquisition and that was never pleasant.

But the Departmento Processium was a black hole that sucked the souls out of people. The processors who worked there were little more than slaves, toiling long hours in small cells over piles and piles of paperwork. Most of these would never matter to anyone. The ones that had value were likely not going to be seen by the right people in time. It was where information went to die.

Anivia was, of course, never a processor. Even after the demise of her family branch, she commanded enough influence to be able to escape that fate. Still, her landing at the Departmento Processium was an attempt at pushing her out of relevance. Unlike the Adepts that did the work, the Master of the Processium had very little to do. There was almost never an emergency or a need to communicate with other Departmentos. And even when there was, it was easy to wield the shield that was the bureaucracy so that one never had to perform any action.

Anivia learned a lot about the Imperium in those years. Every request from every corner of the Imperium had to go through this black hole. Even when someone managed to circumvent its gravitational force and approach someone of influence directly, they couldn’t help but shed a layer of their skin into the Processium trash dump.

Anivia also learned a lot about how information flowed, thanks to the stamps that every level of official meticulously left behind. Information flowed like people flowed, like contagious diseases flowed, like political influence flowed. Once Anivia understood it, she could see how it all came together. And she could see how she could command it all.

Since becoming the Master of the Administratum, Anivia predictably had very little time for her pet project at the Processium. She had made some changes before she left and, because of where she went, the new Master of the Processium wouldn’t have dared to revert them. But that had been the extent of it.

Now, from a bird’s eye view and with greater familiarity of other sections of Adeptus Terra, Anivia developed a much clearer picture of how she wanted it done.

She got to work.

Nobody cared about anything happening inside the Processium, not even when the Master of the Administratum was the source. Anivia happily tweaked procedures, changed schedules, adjusted workflows, like a tinkerer enjoying her craft in peace.

Peace lasted for three months.

Anivia had not left the Palace since the incident, but she had bumped into Valoris several times in the halls. He was a High Lord, after all, and had his duties to perform. She also spent most of her time out of her usual quarters in order to avoid Jek, who was desperately trying to warn someone reasonable about the coup.

Anivia hadn’t had the need to speak with him about anything substantive, but she had always observed the appropriate civility when they crossed path. He, on the other hand, was a lot less his usual self. Even with her back turned she could feel his gaze upon her back, so intense it could’ve penetrated her body. When she did look at him, he would stop blinking altogether. There was one time she almost thought he was trembling.

It worried her.

But she really didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if there was anything she could do. Although Guilliman had been quite transparent in her eyes, Valoris was entirely enigmatic to her.

Chapter Text

“Please accept my apologies for intruding on your peace, Master, but this is important.”

Valerian’s voice was different from what Anivia remembered. He was still gentle, polite, and overall pleasant to be around, but his voice took up a kind of firmness that was not there before.

“Of course, Shield-Captain, what is the matter?” Anivia looked up from her book in surprise, “would you like to sit down?”

“I thank you, but I must ask you to act with haste. The Lord Commander Militant and the Lord High Admiral had just—”

Valerian stopped and turned around, eyes widening in surprise.

Anivia looked up. Trajann Valoris stood by the door.

“Engage privacy field. Do not disturb us unless there’s a daemon incursion.” Anivia commanded through her vox channel.

As she put down her book, something changed. She took on a presence that was almost as forceful as the Captain-General himself.

Valoris did not speak.

“What is the matter, Shield-Captain Valerian?” Anivia asked again. This time it sounded like a command.

“The Lord Commander Militant, the Lord High Admiral, and the Grand Provost Marshal had just gathered a significant military force and announced a coup. They are joined by the ex-Ecclesiarch Baldo Slyst and the Grand Master of Assassins, Fadix. They have not yet made demands but they will, soon.” Valerian said. His eyes were hesitating, darting back and forth between Anivia and Valoris, but his voice remained firm.

“Captain-General?” Anivia looked at Valoris inquiringly. Valerian couldn’t tell if she was merely confirming his report or communicating something else entirely.

“I have given the order to hold,” said Valoris, dryly. “I expect to receive their demand in two hours.”

“Will we strike then?” Asked Valerian hopefully.

“We will see,” replied Valoris.

For a split second, Anivia thought Valerian was going to shout at him, but his superhuman restraint won out and he said nothing. He simply stood there, in utter disbelief.

Anivia frowned. She looked at Valoris accusatorily, “have you not informed him? Were you not planning to have him lead the rescue?”

Both Custodians turned to her sharply. One in confusion. The other, impossible to read.

After a long, deafening silence, Valoris spoke, very slowly, “I have a plan.”

“I understand that,” said Anivia patiently, “but secrecy, like any other weapon, is best deployed against foes rather than friends.”

“Is that what we are?” Snapped Valoris before he could stop himself.

Anivia smiled suddenly. She didn’t answer him. Instead, she turned to Valerian and said, in a strangely soft and calming tone, “please sit down, Shield-Captain. It will take me 15 minutes to explain this. Then, you will have 15 minutes to prepare, 1 hour to get to where you need to be, and 30 minutes for action.”

So she explained.

With the utmost concision, not a single word wasted, Anivia explained how the Council reform was designed to bring out the coup. She explained Guilliman’s plan and his reasons for trusting Fadix. She then explained Fadix’s plan and Valoris’s role in it. It was exactly 15 minutes when she finished.

Valoris stood there the entire time, his expression as stoic as ever. He might’ve been listening. He might’ve just been staring. The not-anger-and-not-lust something burned in his veins, crawled under his skin.

Anivia paid him no attention. When she finished, she simply said to Valerian, “now, our time is up. You have to go. Once this is over, I’m happy to talk with you more if you wish.”

After that, they were both made to leave.

Chapter Text

Anivia thought that she might be beginning to understand.

Not the Custodes per se, but the fact that Guilliman had intentionally tried to deepen her connection with the Custodes, such as emphasizing the importance that she coordinated the Restoration with Valerian personally.

She still didn’t understand the Custodes. She didn’t know if she ever would. But she was beginning to think that the Custodes were seeing something in her that they somehow really needed to see. She just didn’t quite know what it was yet.

For what it was worth, she didn’t know what the Grey Knights saw in her, either.

The coup was quelled and the traitors were purged. The next couple of months were spent in cleaning house. With Guilliman’s seal in hand, Anivia instituted several more waves of personnel reforms. Since they were not designed to ignite a coup, they were generally welcomed by the remaining powers.

The Restoration concluded, with the very last few dens revealing themselves during the height of the coup and promptly picked off by Imperial Fists.

Right before Guilliman’s departure, he had reinstituted the High Council so that decisions could be made in his absence. Anivia was once again back to her seat as the unchallenged first among equals.

Jek went through a roller-coaster. Unfortunately, Anivia couldn’t warn her like she did her adjutants and Valerian. Jek was buried too deep, and her role was too important to rely on her ability to play a façade. She had since forgiven Anivia, though.

That day, Anivia came back to her library, and almost thought she was going to witness a murder.

It was Fadix, standing in the center of the room trying not to tremble. He was dressed in black as usual but no longer hiding in the shadows.

Valoris towered over him from behind. He did not draw his weapon and his face was calm—though Anivia had learned to not trust this apparent calmness.

“Oh, Little Light, you’re back! Wonderful!” Fadix gave out a genuine cheer, “could you be so kind as to explain to the Captain-General here that I mean you no harm?”

Anivia couldn’t help but be amused, “I don’t know about that, Fadix. This was the second time you have assassinated me.”

“The second time I have failed to assassinate you,” corrected Fadix.

Anivia chuckled, “did you come here to make a third attempt?”

“Of course not,” said Fadix immediately, “I’m here to give you some leisure reading as a peace offering. I know how much you enjoy reading.” He nodded to a pile of documents stacked on Anivia’s desk, intelligence he gathered while hanging out with the traitors.

“In that case,” Anivia gave a gentle bow, “let us make peace.”

“Did he have time to leave anything else behind?” After Fadix was gone, Anivia asked Valoris. She was, of course, referring to spying devices.

“No” was his answer, and he gave it without hesitation.

Anivia looked at him for a while and observed, “so you’ve been here for some time.”

Valoris seemed caught off guard by this comment. He tightened his jaw and did not respond.

“Are you here to ask why I explained everything to Valerian even though he was going to follow your plan anyway?” Anivia asked.

That was what Valoris had told himself to be the reason for his coming here, but as soon as Anivia said those words out loud, he realized it wasn’t the real reason.

He couldn’t care less about Valerian just now.

Yet Anivia continued, as if there was no way her guess could’ve been wrong, “I explained to him because he is not your pawn. I don’t think you intend to treat him as such, but if he is going to be of any value to you at all, he needs to understand you. He needs to understand how you think before he can agree with you. Or disagree, if that ever happens."

Damn, I really am starting to talk like a regent, Anivia thought.

Valoris gave a curt nod.

Anivia studied him for a moment and said, suddenly, “it’s going to be okay.”

Valoris blinked slowly.

To be completely honest, she wasn’t sure why she said it. It was such an absurd thing to say to the very-possibly second most martially powerful individual in the material universe—second only to the returning primarch himself. He was thousands of years old. He had seen the Emperor upon the Golden Throne with his own two eyes. He had guarded that throne with his spear.

But he seemed so fragile just then. Like he was completely lost. Like he had been lost for ten thousand years he didn’t remember what it meant to not be lost. Like he had stopped daring to hope a long time ago.

That look of not-anger-and-not-lust burned in his eyes as he looked at her. It called out to her.

Could she answer?

He needed it. He needed so much of it. He didn’t even know what ‘it’ was but he needed it desperately. Like he would rather burn up his entire body just to be able to touch it.

“It’s going to be okay,” Anivia had said, and a bright light shone. It almost blinded him.

“I’m going to make it okay,” she said.

Chapter Text

That night, Valoris went back to his chamber, and crossed that line.

It was every bit as intense as he had imagined and more. Fire ran through his veins, burning through the darkness that had surrounded him for thousands of years. Everything burned. Even the pleasure burned.

He touched himself with a hint of desperation, imagining his hand to be someone else’s. It wasn’t what he needed. Not exactly. But he had had to make do with something that wasn’t exactly what he needed for thousands of years. Nonetheless, he would try.

He had been made with one purpose and one purpose only—to obey. He did it for so long and he did it so perfectly. But it wasn’t enough to stop the nightmares. He wasn’t enough.

So he obeyed harder. With greater intensity. With more perfection. He obeyed. For it was the only thing he knew how to do. It was the only thing he knew. But it wasn’t enough.

Had it ever been enough? Was anything ever going to be enough?

It’s going to be okay.

His hand moved up and down his shaft—something he had done dozens of times since that day. But this time was different. This time he wasn’t thinking about the abandoned building or the hazy eyes. He didn’t need the past anymore. Nor the memories. All he needed was the light.

He lifted his other hand to touch his lips.

Anivia. Anivia. Anivia…his lips called out, but he made no sound. He didn’t dare to make a sound.

He wanted it so badly he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what ‘it’ was and yet he wanted so much of it. All he knew was to obey.

So he would obey. He would obey until it burned up every bone in his body. And then he would obey some more.

I’m going to make it okay.

When he finally crossed that line, he bit down on his fist, drawing blood. Perhaps one day he would learn to not muffle his sound. Perhaps one day he would call out to her name.

Chapter Text

Anivia went to visit Tieron.

Since his retirement, Tieron had moved out of the Palace so he could find a place with a better view. This meant that Valoris had to accompany Anivia on her visit. Yet she decided to go anyway, even though it was not a business trip, and she could’ve easily summoned Tieron to her. She wanted to take a trip.

Valoris had calmed down a lot lately.

It was strange—he had always appeared calm. In battle and in rage he had appeared calm, but only now did Anivia realize he never truly was calm. He was…hollow.

Now, something seemed to have changed in a fundamental way. When he looked at her it was no longer as if he was looking at an inanimate object. His eyes weren’t exactly warm, but when he looked at her it was like he was looking with his soul, like he was diligently performing a sacred ritual with his gaze.

Valoris had a scarred face that used to be handsome. Well, it wasn’t exactly unhandsome now, but with the kind of scars he had, beauty would not be what people thought about when they looked at him.

He wore his usual golden armor with black cloak. Anivia contemplated persuading him to wear a robe instead, like Valerian would do when off duty, but she decided now might be too soon. At least he left his helmet behind, and his spear.

Anivia brough neither Teka nor Sulachana. Sulachana had never met Tieron, and Teka barely knew him. Instead, she gave them some tasks to perform and told them to take the rest of the day off.

Anivia didn’t fully cognize that this meant it would just be her and Valoris until the two of them were securely seated inside a small, unmarked transporter.

They sat side by side this time. Sulachana had prepared a blanket for her and Anivia wrapped it around herself as soon as the transporter took off. She stared out of the window.

In all honesty, she was half surprised that she didn’t develop a fear of flight. She had a great deal fewer fears than others around her, but she never considered herself fearless.

When was the last time she was truly fearful?

As soon as the question arose in her head, she knew the answer. She remembered the fire, the smoke, the scream, the bodies around her. Their faces were the same as hers. It was as if she had died and was staring at her own body. That was so long ago now.

“That day—” she said suddenly, “were you afraid that I would die?”

Valoris knew instantly which day she was referring to. It had played and replayed in his head so many times he remembered every minute detail of it. Except, perhaps, the answer to that question.

He had fully expected that she would never want to talk about that day. He had half wondered if her condition was so terrible that she didn’t remember what happened. That thought used to cause a wave of resentment in him, but not anymore.

It wasn’t that he wanted to talk about it—he emphatically did not want to talk about it. So much of his sentiments were conflicted then. He liked the way she was fearless, but when she truly did not fear, that made him angry.

The thought that she would despise him for what he did was almost paralyzing, but when she was able to treat him like she had always done, that made him angrier still.

He didn’t want to talk about it, but he also hated when she didn’t talk about it.

He was still conflicted now, but he no longer felt…cornered, like he once was.

“If you died,” after a long pause, Valors responded slowly, “I would have failed my mission.”

“That does not answer my question.” Anivia said with a smile, she didn’t even ask what his mission was.

“I—was not made to fear.” He tried again.

“That does not answer my question either.”

She was looking at him through the corner of her eyes, silver glittering in the murky light shining through the window. He felt the air suddenly thinning.

Valoris’s lips tightened. He was not used to losing control. He used to hate that feeling. Now it excited him. But neither hatred nor excitement was quite appropriate for the present situation.

“I did not fear that you would die,” he finally said through gritted teeth. “For I knew you would not die, for I was there.”

Anivia buried her face into her palms and laughed a silent laugh, shoulders shaking.

She really was in a good mood today, thought Valoris.

Chapter Text

Tieron stared at Anivia, speechless.

He stared at Anivia because he couldn’t bring himself to stare at Valoris. He still remembered meeting him for the first time in that dark underground tunnel. With a single fling of his pear, Valoris sent three malfunctioning servitors flying. He looked like death incarnate. Tieron remembered reciting prayer in preparation of what he thought was his certain death.

“Alexei, it’s good to see you! Are you all right?” Anivia gave Tieron a light hug, which seemed to have put enough courage in him to speak.

“I, um, thank you. My pleasure to see you, Anivia and, um, Captain-General.”

That was when Anivia finally realized that it was not her that Tieron was reacting to. She stood there for a few seconds, trying to remember what it felt like to not be as comfortable with Valoris as she was now.

Valoris gave Tieron a quick glance without acknowledgement, then turned his gaze back to Anivia.

Anivia, much to Tieron’s amazement, did not pay Valoris any attention, even though she did seem to recognize the awkwardness of the situation.

Well, this was the Anivia he knew.

“Please, come in.” Tieron bowed, extending his arm to the inner chamber.

“I will wait for you here.” Valoris said coldly.

Anivia asked for Tieron’s consent with her eyes, who had to consciously tamper the eagerness of his agreement.

Anivia sat down in Tieron’s living chamber. It was even more lushly decorated than his Palace residence. A few human servers brought out fresh fruits and other off-world food items. Tieron poured tea for the both of them.

As soon as he sat back down, he raised his eyebrow at Anivia, asking the silent question they were both expecting.

“Um, bodyguard, of a sort.” Anivia did her best attempt at pretending that what she gave was a completely normal answer, like having the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodies as a bodyguard was a completely ordinary occurrence of life.

Tieron gave her a side eye but did not press. He was pretty certain that the Custodian could hear every word that passed between him and Anivia from the antechamber, and the ex-Chancellor understood the importance of keeping one’s curiosity in check.

“So, the coup,” Tieron changed topic, “pretty elegantly done, Master.”

“All credit goes to the Lord Commander,” said Anivia, “I had a different proposal.”

“I had a feeling it was more aggressive than your usual style,” chuckled Tieron, “Jek was pretty shaken."

“Right. I did apologize to her afterwards. There was no way to warn her without incurring too much risk. Fadix promised me he’d be gentle with Jek, but there’s only so much gentleness someone like Fadix could be trusted to have.”

“Jek was alright,” Tieron assured Anivia. “To be honest, she wasn’t scared for herself. She was worried about you. That assassination attempt…I gather now that it was all for show? You scared us good, Anivia. We didn’t take you to be that type.”

“Well, it’s not like he asked me ahead of time,” Anivia said casually.

Tieron’s eyes widened, “wait, do you mean to say that you didn’t know? That must’ve been truly terrifying for you. Are you alright?”

Anivia looked at Tieron. There was a genuine expression of concern on his face. Tieron had always cared about the High Lords. He truly cared about Terra, about the Imperium, about the people who ruled over it. He understood people in a profound way, which allowed him to see the beauty in their souls that glittered behind their human weaknesses and mistakes.

“I’m alright now. But when it happened I…” Anivia trailed off for a moment, staring into her tea cup, lost in thought. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. “I thought of them. Would Loisa have anticipated this when I did not? Would Vella have survived it more elegantly than I did? Stella would be just like me. That I can be sure.”

Tieron reached out and held her hand, “it was never your fault, Anivia. You must know already.”

Of course she didn’t cause the incident, but should she have foreseen it? Should she have prevented it? Was it truly not her fault?

Although Anivia never voiced any of these thoughts, Tieron understood exactly what she was thinking. He gave her some time to ruminate and then said softly, “they are with the Emperor now, and you are the blessing He has left us.”

Anivia smiled and squeezed Tieron’s hand back.

“I did have a favour to ask you,” said Anivia. She was not the kind that dwelled on the past, even when she thought herself responsible.

She pointed to a document box she brought with her and had left on the floor, “I want you to get rid of these for me.”

Tieron raised an eyebrow. He gestured for one of the servants to hold the box up and flipped through the content.

“This is...the entire Syrren family tree?” He looked up in amazement, “your Terran residence as well. What are—well.”

He checked himself and didn’t finish the question.

He recognized immediately what this was. When Anivia first became the Master of the Administratum, she did something similar—she cut ties with every branch of her family that might have anything to gain from claiming acquaintance with the Master of the Administratum. This thinned her family extensively though not entirely. There were a few branches with planetary governors or rogue traders that remained distantly connected. Their files were now in the box in front of Tieron.

What was she planning to do? This was the question Tieron had wanted to ask. He suppose he would find out eventually.

Anivia smiled, “you can take whatever you want and distribute the rest as you see fit. All the legal documents should be in order, but do let me know if they are not.”

Tieron nodded, “do you have a timeline?”

“It won’t be urgent for several years,” Anivia explained, “I prioritize subtlety.”

They spent a bit more time discussing the details, and Anivia was ready to go.

As Anivia hugged Tieron goodbye, Valoris opened the door for her. His expression was stoic, his grey eyes cold as ice. His martial prowess was doubtlessly still at perfection. And yet Tieron found himself no longer afraid of Valoris. He realized that he and the Captain-General shared something. Something special. Something precious. And all they had been doing was to try their best to make it happen. That made them comrades.

Chapter Text

The warp was a strange place.

Anivia had never travelled in the warp. She had not read much about it either. She was told that time worked differently in the warp and she couldn’t quite understand what that meant.

Roboute Guilliman returned after his 16-year campaign, and 10 years had passed on Terra.

Guilliman had not taken the full army of the Indomitus Crusade with him. He had reclaimed many planets on the Astronomican side of the Great Rift, but he had plans to visit the other side—Imperium Nihilus, as it was called now. He left most of his forces within the Ultima Segmentum, which was closest to the Cicatrix Maladictum.

The Lord Commander’s return to Terra marked the successful conclusion of the first stage of the Indomitus Crusade. The entire planet celebrated as Guilliman’s flagship, Macragge’s Honor, paraded across the sky.

Anivia was also in a parade ship, flying at a much lower altitude, leading the ceremonial fleet of the High Lords. Not all of the High Lords were personally present—Guilliman’s return had been on short notice—but all factions sent representatives.

The parade lasted the entire day, with Guilliman giving intermittent speeches to Terran citizens as he flew above them. It was, of course, entirely planned by Anivia, with the goal of increasing a sense of participation by ordinary citizens. The image was to be captured and distributed, both physically and astropathically, across the Imperium.

Terra had changed a lot in the decade that Guilliman was gone. Unlike Guilliman himself, Anivia did not like introducing radical shocks to the system, relying on the obedience of the constituents to recover on their own. Instead, she preferred taking gentle and guided steps constantly so that drastic changes accrue slowly and steadily over time.

In the past ten years, Anivia’s main emphasis was crusade logistics. But she had additionally carried out a number of projects such as optimizing the information flow within Adeptus Terra, restructuring quarantine blocks to allow experimentation of different educational schemes, reforming tithe rules, and increasing inter-factional communication.

Most of what had been accomplished could not be seen from above the air, but some could. Guilliman could see people rushing to the balconies for the parade, and they looked—happy. He had almost forgotten what happiness looked like.

He had not yet seen Anivia in person. By his command, a whole host of reports landed on his desk, which he read with inhuman speed in between speeches. He had had a planning meeting through hologram with Anivia, Jek, and various other bureaucrats upon his arrival on Terra, but Anivia had essentially had the entire event planned out. All he did was agree.

Having someone take care of important aspects of his activities gave Guilliman a strange feeling. He never considered himself Terran. His home was on the faraway planet of Macragge. Even when he followed the Emperor as a father and lived in the Imperial Palace, he thought of himself as a guest here. Yet, buried in the pile of Anivia’s report, it all of a sudden felt like home.

Anivia had thought this through: although she was physically inside the parade ship during the entire ceremony, she planned it in such a way that she did not have to be awake for the entire time.

It was an exciting day not only for Terran citizens, but also for her guards and assistants, so she let them take charge of the fireworks and other activities that signaled the liveliness of the ceremonial fleet while she herself was anything but lively. A strategic conservation of energy.

Valoris was with her. She had planned for the Custodes’ parade ship to be right behind hers, but that was not close enough for Valoris. Instead, Valoris sent a Tribune to be the Custodian representative on that ship so that the person being represented could be on a different ship.

Anivia did not understand it.

But she was not in the habit of doubting superhumans when it came to matters of security, so she let him be. Truth to be told, she was quite getting used to having Valoris around.

Chapter Text

Soon after the parade ended, Anivia went to see Guilliman.

It was late in the evening, but neither Guilliman nor his space marine delegates needed sleep, and Anivia had prepared for this occurrence by getting enough naptime throughout the day.

She went alone, letting her assistants get some well deserved rest.

Shortly since Guilliman’s departure on the Crusade, Anivia had completely refurnished his quarters. Before Guilliman’s resurrection, the quarters that were now his were considered as sacred chambers. They were heavily decorated with ornaments and relics. Theoretically they could be used for ceremonies, but realistically there were hundreds of chambers like these in the Palace and so no one ever used them.

Guilliman had chosen this set of chambers because of their size and location. He had cleared up some space for the items he needed—desks for himself and his servants, machinery required to take off his armor, and a dining table which, as far as Anivia gathered, was only used once. Beyond these necessities, Guilliman had let the rest of the space be taken up by invaluable paintings, sculptures, and various other ornaments. These luxuries were of no use to him, yet he did not wish to affront the Terran nobility by showing distaste towards that which formed their central motivational structure, so he tolerated the clutter.

Anivia didn’t care. Once Guilliman was gone, she had the servants completely emptied his chambers to be redecorated. The rooms still retained their grandiose appearance, but the decorations were mostly limited to carvings into walls and furniture so that they did not take up space. They also involved military references—battle maps and army formations. Some of these were essentially reference sheets that were functional in meetings, dressed up as complex symbolic depictions of art to the untrained eye.

The dominating furniture was all primarch-sized, newly commissioned from Imperium’s best artisans. For the few months he was on Terra before the Crusade, Guilliman had to use chairs and tables he had used before his fall, which were both old and had been elevated to relic status. It was a little bit strange to have one’s dining chair be worshiped as a relic. It was stranger to have to go to take that chair from a museum in order to have a place to sit. Moreover, even though the chair was rightfully Guilliman’s, not everyone liked the idea of a relic being used as an ordinary chair. As Anivia had new furniture made, she returned everything that was once taken from a vault or museum.

The new furniture was more functional than ceremonial. Every piece had several auxiliary mortal-sized pieces that were designed to host primarch-mortal interactions. There were also spaces left on these mortal-sized furniture for mortal assistants to place small ornaments, as a way to tamper any displeasure caused by the overall lack of ornamentation in the room. Anivia designed it so that these spaces were occluded from the primarch’s vantage point—she stood on a ladder at multiple locations throughout the rooms to make sure of it. Although she left these spaces empty for now, her suspicion was that most of Guilliman’s mortal assistants would like to put up statues of Guilliman here, and she imagined that Guilliman would not enjoy working with a dozen statues of himself staring up at him.

This was the first time Anivia had seen Guilliman’s chambers being used since the refurnishing, and she couldn’t help but be proud of herself.

Every space was used to its maximum efficiency, yet no corner felt cramped. People were stationed in such a way that those with whom they most often communicated were also those whose stations were physically closest. Whenever two officers—such as the duty officer and the relay officer—needed to exchange eye contact, they only had to look up from their station to find a direct, uninterrupted line of sight to each other. Space marines walked back and forth on various duties and almost didn’t have to mind their steps so as to not trample their mortal servants.

As soon as Anivia stepped through the door, the receptionist saw her and signaled to the duty officer, who was not stationed by the door but had a shortcut that passed several seats of people whom she might want to grab along the way.

“Master Syrren, it’s great to see you again.” She bowed. “Captain Sicarius will take you to him.”

Just as she finished, Captain Cato Sicarius arrived. He had been summoned by one of the servants whom the duty master dispatched on her walk to the door.

“Master Syrren, a pleasure.” Sicarius bowed his head, “I love what you did to this space.”

“Glad to hear, Captain,” smiled Anivia, “and I’m glad to see you again.”

As they made their way toward the inner chamber, Anivia noticed that there were, in fact, fewer statues of Guilliman than she had expected. This was a good sign. It meant that people were beginning to trust Guilliman the living primarch rather than Guilliman the myth.

The inner chamber was as busy as the outer chamber, but with noticeably more space marines and fewer baseline humans.

Guilliman stood in front of his desk. Behind the desk were several layers of angled shelves that served as an extension of the desk when one needed to lay out many documents for perusal, which was usually the reason for standing rather than sitting at a desk. All of the shelves were occupied at this point, and Guilliman’s eyes darted between them frequently.

Behind him stood three space marines, one of them taller than the others. Anivia had gathered that superhumans in general did not like sitting down, but she had put a wooden chair near the desk regardless. Currently, the chair was occupied by a mortal man standing on it.

This usage of the chair was also anticipated by Anivia, and she had installed a couple steps of retractable stairs on the side of the chair. The man didn’t use it though. He hopped down from the chair in quite an agile manner and gave Anivia a deep bow.

“Master Syrren!” Guilliman greeted her with a tone of genuine delight, “I’m glad you can come. I hope the parade did not tire you out entirely. I truly did not wish to wait any longer to see you.”

“Lord Commander.” Anivia bowed. Before Guilliman could protest over the formality, she smiled up at him. “I knew you would like to see me and so I planned accordingly. How do you like the refurnishing?”

“Magnificent,” said Guilliman without hesitation.

Anivia’s smile deepened. She pointed to Guilliman’s desk and asked, “are you restructuring the hub-fortresses?”

“As observant as I remember,” said Guilliman. “Your restructuring of the tithe logistical chain gave me some new ideas about optimizing the supply network of hub-fortresses. I was in the process of explaining this to my captains and the Master of the Logisticarum. Have you met him?” He gestured at the mortal man who used to stand on the chair. The man gave another bow.

“We have not met before,” said Anivia, “but have exchanged messages through the Munitorum. Master Gunthe, if I remember correctly?”

“Yes, Jermaine Gunthe, my lord.” Gunthe was a little nervous, but working with Guilliman for over a decade had made him much better at controlling his nerve.

The Officio Logisticarum was a new office created by Guilliman to handle logistics for the Indomitus Crusade. It was nominally under the Administratum’s purview but was in fact entirely commanded by Guilliman. Most of the office’s staff followed the Crusade fleets and coordinated supply chains that Anivia had established through the Munitorum.

“You have met Captain Cato Sicarius.” Guilliman continued his introductions, “these are Ferren Areios, Captain of the 6^th company of the Ultramarines; Donas Maxim, Codicier of the Aurora Chapter; Daceus, Captain of the 2^nd company of the White Consuls.”

They all bowed.

Anivia was never really outright disrespected by space marines, but it was unusual for space marines to truly respect anyone who was not a primarch or another space marine. With the conclusion of the first phase of the Indomitus Crusade, this had changed.

Most of those who had fought in the Crusade had never met, and would never meet, the Master of the Administratum. She was not with them on the Crusade. But she was also everywhere with them. Time after time, as the Crusade faced unexpected setbacks or suffered grievous losses, as Guilliman was forced to reconsider his strategy in light of supply shortages, as the Crusade forces had to requisition from newly reclaimed, deeply wounded worlds, she was there. A tithe ship would be redirected to a hub-fortress. A rogue trader would bring in supplies. An explorator fleet would join them. A trade deal would arrive to a planet that would change the governor’s mind and avoid further conflict.

They had been fighting for Terra for hundreds, sometimes thousands, of years. It was the first time they felt that Terra got their backs.

Chapter Text

“The hub-fortress was a good idea, and I had some concrete plans for the supply network,” said Anivia, “I did not send them to you because I wanted you to prioritize the things I did send.”

Guilliman gave her a side eye. In addition to the usual reports on the state of Terra, Anivia had sent a list of documents relating to the restructuring of the Ecclesiarchy and its integration with the military branches. She had made good arguments for why this was necessary, and the precise implementations proposed were by no means egregious. Nevertheless, Guilliman had put it off to focus, instead, on Crusade supply logistics, of which the reports were purely factual. Guilliman had a hunch that Anivia intentionally did not send her plans in order to keep him on task, but he decided to indulge himself anyway.

“In that case, we can see if my plans cohere with yours,” Guilliman said with a smile.

Donas Maxim could barely contain his amazement.

More than most and much against his own volition, Maxim had witnessed the depth of the primarch’s despair. He had been summoned by the primarch to debate the nature of godhood with that xeno. He had helped his gene-father interrogate a demon-host. He was there when Guilliman died a second death at the hand of the traitor-primarch Mortarion.

It wasn’t like Maxim had never seen the primarch smile. It was a rare occasion but it did happen, especially during the early stage of the war. Guilliman’s smile always looked deliberate, more like a calculated tool for displaying social awareness than a genuine expression of pleasure. Sometimes his smile was sad. Those looked more authentic. Maxim did not think his lord was capable of genuine happiness. Not anymore. Not after what he had been through since his reawakening.

Yet Guilliman seemed happy just now. He did not have a broad smile like many did when they were happy, yet Maxim could sense the aura of genuine delight emanating from the primarch’s body. Every muscle in his mighty body appeared spontaneous rather than controlled like he always was. He appeared relaxed, lively. He smiled a faint smile, but that, Maxim realized, was how he truly smiled.

The Master of the Administratum spoke in a manner that could be described as indulging. She was witty in a spiky kind of way, yet whenever Guilliman brought up any matter of seriousness, she followed his train of thought effortlessly and supplied elaborations and explanations. She did not disagree with Guilliman often, but when she did, she would calmly present her arguments and evidence and he would do the same. Hearing their discussion was almost like watching a well rehearsed battle dance.

By the time Guilliman and Anivia settled all of the matters that were on the bottom of Anivia’s priority list, it was past midnight.

Gunthe had already retired a while earlier and Guilliman dismissed the space marines.

It was all of a sudden very quiet. Anivia realized that the inner chamber was entirely empty, except, of course, Guilliman and herself. The outer chamber still had plenty of activities, but it sounded so distant through the door, which Codicier Maxim had closed upon existing.

Guilliman sat down on the wooden chair and looked at Anivia with his pale blue eyes.

“None of this is urgent, so I thank you for indulging me.” He said.

It was true that none of this was urgent. It was also true that both Guilliman’s and Anivia’s time was probably better spent elsewhere rather than revisiting plans that Anivia had already drafted and had long proven herself to be perfectly capable of drafting.

He enjoyed this, so Anivia made plans to make it happen.

Guilliman was not wearing armor. When he sat in the chair, his gaze was at level with Anivia, who had stood up from her mortal-sized chair to bid the space marines good night.

Anivia walked up to him. She hesitated for a moment before asking, “are you all right?”

Guilliman didn’t respond. His smile disappeared from his face, leaving an empty expression behind.

“I, um—” Anivia paused.

She didn’t know what to say. She could tell Valoris that she was going to make everything okay, because she was pretty confident that she could make things okay for Valoris. She could say the same thing to most people around her—most people in the Imperium, even—but she couldn’t say it to Guilliman. As arrogant as she might be, as a matter of fact, she could not solve Guilliman’s problems. Nobody could. His burden was entirely his own to bear.

“If there’s anything I can do to help—” words were weak. They could convey but a fraction of the intensity of her intention.

Anivia sighed, “I’m sorry. I understand that this is difficult and there are no easy solutions. I guess all I wanted to say is that I will be here for you. But you already know that.”

Guilliman suddenly moved. With a primarch’s speed he pulled Anivia into a full embrace.

Anivia lost her balance for a moment and grabbed onto his massive shoulders to steady herself. Guilliman’s breath was warm on her neck. She could see the ugly scar stretching across his collarbone.

As if reflexively, Anivia held Guilliman’s head loosely in her arms and gently stroked his hair. Most of it was as golden as the paintings had depicted him, but some of it was grey.

Guilliman inhaled deeply. With his three lungs it was like he was about to exhaust all of the air in the room. Then, he pressed a gentle kiss on the side of Anivia’s neck.

Chapter Text

They held each other for a long time. When Guilliman finally let go, Anivia’s sigh of relief was not as subtle as she had hoped.

“I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” he observed her carefully.

“No.”

“Did I startle you?”

Well. Anivia looked at him, trying to decide whether to tell the truth.

“I did, didn’t I? I’m sorry.” He said. His voice was calm, but Anivia could feel the weight of his emotions. At the same time, she could not quite decipher what those emotions were, and that made her worry.

“No need to apologize. It’s just—I didn’t expect primarchs to have, um—”

“—the ability to fall in love?” Guilliman asked softly.

Anivia closed her mouth. She was going to say the need for hugs.

Guilliman instantly understood what just happened. He leaned back in his chair a little more, as if every inch of physical distance between them could help him better hide the true depth of his yearning.

“If this offends you, please tell me directly, and I will not mention it ever again.” His voice was a little stern, like he was issuing an order to himself.

Anivia hesitated. She was still in shock of what Guilliman had just told her and didn’t know what she felt, but she couldn’t bear seeing that expression on his face.

“ ‘Offend’ isn’t how I would describe it.” She clarified.

Guilliman looked relieved, which was a much better expression.

They were both quiet for some time, Anivia desperately trying and failing to gather her thoughts.

Then Guilliman said suddenly, “will you call me Roboute sometimes?”

“Sorry?” Anivia looked up in confusion.

Guilliman smiled. “During the Crusade, I met a rogue trader who reminded me that my name was not ‘my lord’. I’ve rather grown fond of this fact.”

“Is ‘Guilliman’ not also your name, Lord Guilliman?” Asked Anivia. Guilliman looked at her carefully and saw the playful glitter in her eyes. Something heavy was lifted off of his chest—something he didn’t even realize was weighing on him until now.

“Will you call me Roboute sometimes?” He smiled at her banter but ignored her question.

“If you say so, my lord.” Anivia gave a fake sigh, and called out softly, “Roboute.”

Guilliman blinked. Hearing that word spoken out loud in her voice did something to him. An overwhelming sensation washed over his body, almost knocking him over. He could barely contain himself.

He inhaled deeply and willed his body into control. As slowly as he could manage and with all of his working brain devoted to deciphering possible signs of resistance, he pulled Anivia in again.

“Roboute.” Anivia repeated softly and Guilliman kissed her neck.

“I missed you profoundly.” Guilliman said in a whisper, “so much happened and I wished you were there. But I’m glad that you weren’t there. You were here. The mere thought of it was enough for me.”

Anivia imagined that Guilliman had probably never been described as “incoherent” in his life, but he was getting close just now. She slowly stroked his hair, waiting for him to calm down.

Finally, when the timing seemed right, she asked him, “will you tell me what happened, Roboute?”

And so he told her.

They moved to the couch so Anivia didn’t have to keep standing. The couch was designed to fit three space marines comfortably and was deeper than Anivia’s bed. She climbed to the center and Guilliman held her in a cuddle. It took her several adjustments to get comfortable.

Guilliman told her the stories. He told her how he decided to leave Terra Secundus enthralled to Chaos as he diverted forces elsewhere. He told her of the Ironhold Protectorate and other worlds that no longer trusted the Imperium. He told her of his meeting with Mortarion and hating himself for the ever so slim amount of joy he felt when conversing with one who knew the past like he did. He told her of the Militant-Apostolic Mathieu, the living saints, his struggle with the concept of godhood. He told her of his own death in Nurgle’s garden and his apparent possession and resurrection by the Emperor. He told her that Natase, the xeno farseer, said that other people’s faith would change him whether he liked it or not, but he did not want to be changed.

He really should not have said this much. It was almost too much for a primarch to bear, let alone a mere mortal. But Anivia was no mere mortal. She listened with such a calm serenity that he often forgot she was there at all. She didn’t even react when he told her of his demise.

Yet whenever he hesitated, she would look up at him, her silver eyes glittering softly. He would lean over to kiss her hair and continue the narration of his nightmares.

“Are you truly not afraid?” At the end of it all, he just had to ask.

“Not right now.” She answered in a matter-of-fact tone. “Perhaps when we strategize over what to do next I will become more afraid, but that’s not what I’m doing right now. Right now I’m merely listening to you.”

Compartmentalization. His rational brain told him. A great coping mechanism for emotional control.

“Besides,” Anivia yawned, “there is only so much emotion that can fit inside a human body. Fear will just have to wait.”

As dawn broke and Terra awakened, Anivia fell asleep. And Guilliman would never know what took the space of fear in her heart that night.

Chapter Text

The next time Anivia saw Guilliman was at the ceremony where he pronounced her Imperial Regent.

The ceremony was not as long as Guilliman’s victory parade but it was very involved. They needed the pronouncement to be as official as possible so that no one would challenge Anivia’s rule. Or, at the very least, the Imperium would have proper grounds for retribution to all challengers.

There was no precedence for this—Malcador became Regent by decree of the Emperor, and Guilliman had claimed his own regency more or less by fiat. Consequently, Guilliman had to spend some time in the archives and consult various scholars in order to create the ceremony from scratch.

The main agenda of the ceremony involved leaders—not representatives—from various factions declaring that they recognize Anivia as the Hand of the Emperor. This started with Trajann Valoris as the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodies. Next was Eos Ritira as the Ecclesiarch. Next was Oud Oudia Raskian as the Fabricator-General of Mars. And on it went. The last was Roboute Guilliman, as the Lord Commander.

“I hereby declare you, Anivia Lux Syrren, to be Regent of the Imperium of Man. You shall watch over His realm and enact His will. May His light ever guide your path, and may your light guide ours in turn.”

The installment of Anivia as Imperial Regent was not itself particularly surprising, at least to the Terran lords. In the past decade Anivia had, for all intents and purposes, ruled like a Regent with Guilliman’s seal, and not even the most rebellious heretic would be able to call her a bad ruler.

What did surprise the Imperium was the extensive display of support that was mustered from such a wide range of factions. Very few people, mortals and superhumans alike, would ever have believed that the Custodians and the Martians at the very least would ever bow to anyone who was not at least a primarch. As it was, they barely bowed to Guilliman. Yet there they were. The Fabricator-General couldn’t exactly bow, but expressed in no uncertain terms that he recognized and respected Anivia’s authority. The Captain-General did the opposite—he restated that the Custodes’ loyalty lied with the Emperor alone. This made his subsequent genuflection to Anivia an even more decisive proof that she had the Emperor’s favor.

The Ecclesiarch’s approval was powerful for the public but unsurprising to the lords. Ritira had been handpicked by Guilliman, after all. Conversely, the presence of several Inquisitors aroused little more than fear in the hearts of regular citizens but turned several heads from the lords. Inquisitor Arx was a High Lord and would support Guilliman’s decisions. But it was well known amongst the Terran lords that Inquisitors often disagreed with each other. The historically educated among them would also remember that the Inquisition was in fact created by not the Emperor Himself, but Malcador the Hero, who was the first Regent of the Imperium.

After the ceremony, Anivia made several decrees she had been putting off until this moment. She had been preparing for them for a decade by now, and was certain that the Imperium would be able to adjust to the changes.

She had offered the position of the Master of the Administratum to Sulachana, who insisted that she would much prefer to stay with Anivia, so the position landed on Violeta Roskavler, who used to be the Master of the Munitorum.

Teka was not temperamentally suited to be a Master, and so stayed by Anivia’s side as usual. Nora had come back with Guilliman, and had resumed her earlier post. So far, Anivia’s life had been more or less the same as before.

The biggest change came in the area of security. According to Guilliman, during the later years of the Heresy, Malcador assembled a group of warriors to be his personal guards. They were called Malcador’s Chosen. The implication was, Anivia gathered, that she should have some Chosens as well.

Anivia was not at all excited by the prospect of having a group of guards following her everywhere, but if Guilliman had his Victrix Guard, then perhaps it wasn’t too much to ask that she had some guards too.

“Think on the bright side, my lord.” Teka tried to cheer her, “the Victrix Guard doesn’t only guard the safety of the primarch. They also serve as his envoys and assistants. You could have several metahumans distributing your commands to exactly where you need them, in exactly how you want them delivered. That would make my life much easier.”

“Somehow, I doubt that they would let me send them away as messengers,” sighed Anivia.

Both Malcador and Guilliman had handpicked their guards, so Anivia had expected to do the same. But that would, of course, be too convenient.

Before Anivia even had the chance to look at the list of space marines Guilliman had compiled for her, Valoris had declared himself as the Captain of the Regent’s Chosen.

“If they are going to be called the Regent’s Chosen, shouldn’t I be the one to choose?” Anivia looked at him with a side eye.

“Who were you going to choose instead, Regent?” He asked slowly, his voice dangerously low.

“You, of course,” Anivia kept a straight face and passed the list of names to him, “what do you think of Guilliman’s list? I haven’t met most of them.”

Without sparing a glance, Valoris took the list and gave it to Nora, “inform all of them to meet me at the dueling arena tonight. Station a Medicae team.”

Anivia made a face behind his back. Sulachana cleared her throat in an attempt at hiding her snort.

Chapter Text

Anivia was not planning on watching Valoris’s trials, but she had not yet fully adjusted to the increase in efficiency caused by Nora’s return and so had time to spare. She recognized that it was probably a good idea for her to get to know her Chosen a little better, even if she was not the one who did the choosing.

The only other audience member was Guilliman. Valoris had exercised the appropriate political sensibilities in not making this a public humiliation event for the Astartes. Compared to all of the Emperor’s creations, the Astartes were especially made for team cooperation while the Custodes were made for solo combat. The point of the exercise was not to see if any of them had any chance of besting the man whose martial prowess was only matched by that of the primarch, because none of them had any chance at all.

They wore full armor and used unpowered weapons. Even without martial training, Anivia could immediately see the difference between the warriors. Valoris was faster both in movement and in cognition. He was also more observant and calculating. The space marine, on the other hand, was more aggressive, more willing to pursue risky maneuvers.

Valoris was deliberate. He systematically tested his opponent on a variety of axes—strength, reflex, instinct, etc. His eyes were cold, yet there was a kind of elegance in his movement. A kind of superiority, like he was merely toying with them. After he saw everything he needed to see, he would rile the space marine up and end the match in the most unsatisfactory way possible.

A few space marines couldn’t control their anger and shouted after him. Most at least bore their teeth. None tried to attack him, though, which was a little surprising to both Valoris and Anivia. On the other hand, considering that all of the space marines present were descendants of either Guilliman or Rogal Dorn, perhaps they should not have been surprised.

Anivia stood next to Guilliman. He nodded at her in acknowledgement without taking his eyes off of Valoris.

Valoris was on his 9^th trial without break, but none of it weighed anything nearly as much on him as the primarch’s gaze. Most of his mental energy was spent on forcing himself to not take notice of Guilliman. By the time he was on his 12^th, however, his instinct achieved momentary victory over his will and he shot Guilliman a quick glance.

Anivia was reading the service records of the candidates on her data slate. Most of the space marines Guilliman sent her had long service histories, but not all. In particular, Guilliman had included quite a few primaris space marines on there. All of them participated in the Indomitus Crusade with Fleet Primus but not much else.

Anivia took some notes with a stylus. She was going to give Valoris the entirety of the decision power, but since she was there and had nothing else to do, she figured she might as well generate some opinions.

“Good evening, Lord Regent.”

A gentle but slightly amused voice appeared above Anivia.

“Good evening, Dragory. It’s wonderful to see you!” Anivia’s face lit up with genuine delight. It had been several years since she had last seen him.

“I believe I have yet to congratulate you on your new appointment,” Dragory smiled. The Grey Knights were still kept as a secret, and so all of the Inquisition Representatives present at the ceremony had been human.

“I thank you, Dragory. Are you here to find me? Do you want to talk elsewhere?”

“That sounds tempting, but no. I came here at the behest of my new Captain, to watch the recruiting process.” He pointed to Valoris with his chin.

It took Anivia a second to follow the implication, “you are going to join the Regent’s Chosen?”

Dragory looked at her amusedly, “I thought you were the Regent and I was your Chosen.”

“Well, I delegate, you know.” Anivia made a face, “but I would totally choose you anyway, so it all worked out.”

“If you say so, my lord.”

After the 15^th trial, Valoris called for a recess. He didn’t look especially tired, but he wanted to convene with Dragory first. He also gave Guilliman and Anivia a slightly annoyed look, like they were mere distractions that were inconveniencing his duty.

It really should’ve been called the Captain’s Chosen, mused Anivia.

She looked up at Guilliman, who happened to be looking down at her at the same time, so she silently asked if he’d like to talk elsewhere. He complied.

Chapter Text

“Your rebreather,” Guilliman gently reminded Anivia as they were about to leave the protection of the Palace walls. He did not forget that, last time she did this, she immediately fell ill.

Anivia raised her eyebrow at him but did not protest.

It was dark outside. The sky was of a hazy purply hue, lit up by the external lumens of the Palace. The toxicity level in the atmosphere was unusually high in the past few days, resulting in a wave of illness in the hive spires. Thankfully, the quarantine blocks set up by Anivia had been functioning quite efficiently for some years.

“I was going to prepare a formal report,” said Anivia, “but since we both have some time today, it might be easier for me to just ask you. I assume you plan to return to the Indomitus Crusade at some point and cross over to Imperial Nihilus? I’d like to be stationed in Ultramar when that happens, instead of Terra.”

Guilliman turned to her suddenly. His surprise was so intense that it confused her.

“Um, is that not a good idea?” Anivia frowned as she searched through her memory for reasons why Guilliman would be opposed to it.

Guilliman opened his mouth but did not speak. Of course he wanted Anivia to visit Ultramar. He had been wanting her to visit Ultramar since before the first phase of the Crusade. When he looked at the map of Ultramar, he would occasionally catch himself planning a touring route across the stars. When he walked along the city walls of Magna Macragge Civitas, he wondered what Anivia would say about the efficiency of its streets. When Iax fell at the hands of the plague god, a part of his heart mourned over the loss of the opportunity of taking her to see its beauty. When he selected his Tetrarchs, he imagined what it would be like for them to meet her.

He wanted her to go to Ultramar so much that he did not dare to raise this question. He couldn’t be sure whether the belief that the Crusade would benefit from stationing her in Ultramar was based on objective calculation or a more personal desire.

Anivia was still looking up at him with a frown. She had always been able to follow Guilliman’s reasoning on matters such as this, but she was utterly confused by his reaction just now.

After a long period of silence, Guilliman said with a strained voice, “it might be dangerous.”

Anivia had a hunch that this was not the real reason behind his hesitation, but she gave a straight answer anyway, “I am only as valuable as I am useful. The Throne room is the safest place of the entire Imperium but I would be useless there. I will be more useful on Ultramar.”

Guilliman did not respond, but something in his expression made Anivia think that what she gave was not the right answer.

“I, um, will send you that report,” Anivia offered, “in a week.”

Guilliman closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew he needed to say something, but he didn’t know what to say. In the end, all he said was, “yes, please.”

Anivia walked away.

As the balcony door closed behind him, Guilliman suddenly realized that all he had to say was simply “yes, I will take you to Ultramar.” But, for some reason, those words would not come out of him.

Now that Anivia was gone and it didn’t matter anymore, he finally understood the reason: he wanted her to want to go.

He wanted her to be as conflicted as he was. He wanted her to at least intuit his confliction, to understand that he had a private motivation as well as the logical one. He wanted her to be at least a little bit different when the two of them were alone together.

He was greedy, he realized. He managed to get a little bit and immediately he wanted more. And now he messed it up.

The door to the balcony opened again. Guilliman turned around in disbelief—Anivia had come back.

“Roboute,” her eyes stared at him with determination as she called out his name, “I need to ask you this now. Why do you not wish for me to go to Ultramar? Is it because Ultramar has not recovered from the Plague Wars? Is it because you worry about my safety? Please do be honest because this is important to me.”

“I—” a sudden rush of emotions flooded Guilliman. The most prominent of them was…awe. Yes, he was in awe.

She came back to ask this question because it was important to her. She stared right into his eyes and asked it out loud.

“I—wish for you to go to Ultramar,” Guilliman said finally. His voice was soft. “I wish for it greatly, and I worried that it had clouded my judgment.”

“Oh,” it took Anivia a few seconds to process his words, “I see.”

She still had that thinking frown on her face, like she was still trying to comprehend the meaning behind those words.

Guilliman knelt on one knee so that their eyes would be at level. He said in a whisper, “it doesn’t matter anymore. I wish for you to go. I will take you to Ultramar. I have much to show you.”

“Um, ok.” Anivia said awkwardly, “in that case I guess I’ll…go now?”

“Wait.” Guilliman called out to her and asked with a smile, “can I get a hug first?”

Chapter Text

Anivia had never had a romantic relationship. None of the Lux did.

The closest she had ever gotten to witnessing one was a year after that incident. She was stopped by a commissar whom she had never met. He had mistaken her for Vella, and wanted to bid her farewell before he departed for Cadia.

“What happened to your eyes? Well never mind. They are still beautiful.” He blushed as he said these words, “I want to thank you for the training sessions we’ve spent together. I will cherish that memory until the day the Throne takes me.”

He said many other words that Anivia didn’t remember. At that point of the conversation, all she wanted to do was to scream and run away.

She did neither of these things. Instead, she listened and responded, entirely on autopilot, as Vella.

That was a long time ago. He was probably long dead by now.

Anivia didn’t know if she felt for Guilliman what he seemed to be feeling for her. She would happily die for him, of course, but most of the Imperium would do that, so it was perhaps not the best way to think about it in this case.

She thought a lot about these things since that night. Or, rather, she spent a lot of time trying to think about it since that night, without much success. Anivia was not used to not knowing how to think about a thing. She had come to depend on the power of her mind to always be able to find a solution, but this did not seem to be one of those situations that needed a solution.

Perhaps this was what Guilliman meant when he worried that his judgment had been clouded? Anivia wasn’t sure. She didn’t think her own judgment was clouded. No matter what she felt for Guilliman as a person, she would give her everything to him as a matter of conviction. To borrow from the Macraggean dialectic, all theoreticals point to the same practical for Anivia, so she really wasn’t bothered by the lack of answers like he seemed to have been.

Valoris’s final draft for the Regent’s Chosen consisted of 12 members.

Other than himself, there were 1 Custodian, 2 Sisters of Silence, 4 regular First Born space marines, 2 primaris marines, 1 librarian, 1 Grey Knight.

Other than Valoris and Dragory, Anivia knew two of them before the drafting. One was the primaris Ferren Areios, the other was the librarian Donas Maxim. Both had been present when she met with Guilliman for the first time after the Indomitus parade. Anivia knew that Areios went through the regular trial with Valoris, but Maxim was tested by Dragory separately. He was a formidable combatant but his value was not in his physical prowess.

Much to Anivia’s relief, the Regent’s Chosen was not going to follow her every step. As long as she was inside a secure structure, only one of them would be physically by her side. The others would be stationed at strategic points and kept up-to-date via vox.

While she was still in the Terran Palace, this person was Areios.

Both Valoris and Dragory had preparation work to do for their indefinite absence to the Sol System, but beyond that, she had no idea what Valoris’s choice criterion was. Her guess was that he had made some sort of judgment of Areios’s temperament and decided that he would get along with Anivia.

Areios’s was a kindred soul. He had a gentle curiosity that was unusual in space marines—both the gentle part and the curiosity part. He was born more than ten thousand years ago, but he had been truly alive in fewer overall years than Anivia.

He was as tall as Valoris and had been wearing power armour. Since most Adepts in the outer Palace had never seen a Custodian, this made Areios a spectacle wherever he went.

Anivia suggested that he wore a robe instead of the armour. This wouldn’t make him any less noticeable but would perhaps decrease the percentage of Adepts fainting in terror. As Anivia spent most of her days in the outer Palace these days, having fewer fainters would be quite convenient.

Upon hearing this request, Areios had an expression of extreme confliction, like a child witnessing an argument between his parents for the first time and had to then serve as the peacemaker.

“Captain Valoris commanded me to be armoured at all times,” he said. “He also specifically commanded me to ignore this request of yours, my lord,” he added sheepishly.

Teka covered his mouth, bending forward in silent but intense laughter, almost falling onto the floor.

Sulachana was slightly better composed. She merely turned her body to face the other way.

Anivia restrained herself and did not roll her eyes.

“Are you…mad at him, my lord?” Areios asked.

“No,” Anivia said tensely, “why would I be mad when he’s just worried about my safety?”

Areios did not seem convinced, but he did not press further.

Anivia had been spending her days in the outer Palace in order to reform the middle-level networks.

Once she had passed on her duty as the Master of the Administratum to Roskavler, she all of a sudden had a lot of free time. Terra had not had a Regent for ten millennia, and so there was no fixed set of duties for her to perform.

Anivia was a strong believer in middle management, so that was where her mind went. She spent some time getting more acquainted with the key personnels and started making small adjustments.

“They all seem to…respect you very much, my lord,” observed Areios.

“You sound as if you are surprised,” Anivia gave him a glance, “do you not all respect your brother-captains in the same way?”

“We respect our brother-captains, but not in the same way,” said Areios. “We respect our brother-captains because we are meant to respect them. But they…trust you, my lord, like how I trust brother-captain Messinius. I’m not explaining myself well.”

Anivia did not respond. She looked over at Teka, who was nodding along enthusiastically like Areios had explained it perfectly.

“I understand what you mean, lord Areios,” said Sulachana. “Our Lord Regent does not because she has always been trusted in this way and it’s nothing new to her,” she added playfully.

Areios smiled gently. Anivia decided to leave herself out of this conversation.

Chapter Text

Meet me at the following coordinate tomorrow at 1700. Leave your armour and weapon behind. It’s an order.

Valoris raised his eyebrows at the parchment that was delivered to his room. It was not signed but the page was embellished with the Regent’s iconography. Besides, only two souls could’ve ever given him orders, and one of them was still silent upon the Golden Throne.

He complied, of course. As the Captain-General of the Custodes, it was well within Valoris’s authority to follow the Regent around and direct the people around her, just like the Tribune Colquan had been doing with Guilliman. Yet Valoris joined the Regent’s Chosen anyway, knowing fully well that doing so would restrict what he could do, rather than expanding or simply changing it.

There were many reasons behind his decision. The most decisive one was this: he had come to realize that it was precisely because of the fact that the Custodes could do anything they wanted that they didn’t do anything at all. They had been preserving their forces for some vague promise of the future, but since they didn’t know what the future looked like, nothing seemed significant enough to bring about action.

If he wanted to bring the Custodes out of limbo, he had to take a page from Guilliman’s book and take a leap of faith. The Lord Regent’s direction was as good as any to leap at for that purpose.

Valoris put on his robe. He was not in fact so obsessed with his armour that he had to wear it everywhere. He had been wearing armour around Anivia because every time he had been with her, he had been in the position of her protector. He also left his weapon behind as ordered.

As he touched his cloak, Anivia’s face flashed before his eyes and her muffled cry ringed in his ear. An electric shock passed through his body and he had to take a second to steady his breath. Valoris knew that he was making the evening more difficult for himself, but he put on the cloak anyway.

Right on the second, he walked toward her.

It was not the first time Anivia had seen him without armour, but it was the first time she had seen it up close. Physically, he took up less space, but the lack of armour strangely accentuated his presence rather than diminished it. Perhaps it was precisely when he dressed like a human that it was obvious that he was not. Not really. His body had a surreal kind of perfection that was difficult to process for the mind. The raw, physical power that had been barely but artfully contained in his body appeared more magnificent with only fabric separating it and the world.

Anivia still had Areios with her. He bowed to Valoris and the latter nodded in acknowledgement.

“You followed my orders, very well.” Anivia smiled. She didn’t seriously think he was going to defy her, but she still imagined him disgruntled and found the thought amusing.

Valoris gave her a cold glance and said nothing. He did not seem to be in a foul mood exactly, but he was not as relaxed as he had been.

It had always been difficult for Anivia to get a read on Valoris, but she figured that, since he had voluntarily put himself under her command, he probably at least didn’t hate her. That was good enough.

“This way,” she walked ahead.

It was said that no mortal could possibly visit the entirety of the Imperial Palace within a lifetime. Valoris had lived many mortal-lifetimes, but Anivia didn’t know how widely his duties had taken him. She was pretty sure that curiosity would not have driven him to explore. She was pretty sure that Custodians did not have curiosity.

She took Valoris upon an elevator and left Areios at the base. Valoris did not object, which made her think that he was at least familiar with this part of the Palace.

They walked onto a small roof balcony with nothing but an artillery cannon. It was obvious that, due to its location, the cannon had not been used for thousands of years.

The roof balcony was surrounded by walls on three sides, but one of them had a ladder leading up to a spotting platform. Anivia climbed up the ladder and gestured for Valoris to follow.

The platform was even smaller. It was supposed to have a booth but not anymore. Now it was entirely baren, without even a guardrail or a flag poll. It was windy. Anivia instinctively moved closer to Valoris for security and adjusted her rebreather.

“Look,” she pointed in front of her, in case he didn’t know to look.

Terra laid before their eyes, and it was beautiful.

It was a (relatively) clear day. The 5 o’clock sun shone through the hazy clouds, coating everything in orange gold. There was still plenty of Palace between them and the walls, but they were high up enough to see past the walls. Several hive spires connected the ground with the sky, their external lumens were not yet visible under the bright twilight.

“I came upon this place by chance the other day. You’re probably not the sentimental kind but humour me, at least.” Anivia half-closed her eyes in a soft, content smile, “you’ve certainly left Terra before. Did you miss it? I’ve only been to Luna once.”

“We are going to go very far this time,” she said in a whisper.

Valoris’s hand twitched suddenly, like he was going to do something with it but didn’t. He blinked a little too slowly. It was as if he wanted to close his eyes but then forced himself out of it. He inhaled deeply and said nothing. His body was entirely enshrouded in his black cloak. It might have just been the wind. He might have actually been trembling.

It had to be a windy day or else the visibility would be bad. Anivia shifted around a little more so Valoris would block most of the wind for her. She grabbed onto his cloak for balance.

Valoris’s hand twitched again. He was still standing like he had always been standing, but every muscle in his body tensed. He was wound up so tight that the smallest pressure could’ve broken him.

But Anivia didn’t do anything else. She wasn’t even looking at him. She simply stood there, with that soft, content smile on her face, taking Terra into her eyes, imprinting it onto her soul.

And so Valoris stood there by her side, engaging the entirety of his will just to contain the fire in his veins. He wanted it. He wanted it so bad he couldn’t think. He couldn’t even think about whether he had already earned the right and perhaps he should just go for it. He couldn’t think. So he did what his nature dictated—he restrained.

It was all a blur. For a moment there he thought he had actually been broken. Or perhaps he had been. He didn’t know the difference anymore.

Valoris could not remember how he got back that night. When he recovered some of his senses, he was alone in his chamber, trying to make himself cum for the third time.

He had not taken his clothes off. His left hand was inside his trousers like it had been wanting to do, his right held up his cloak to his mouth.

White light flashed before his eyes and he had cum again. Yet it was still not enough.

He couldn’t be like this anymore, Valoris realized. It would break him, if he wasn’t already broken. The Emperor didn’t need a broken servant. Anivia didn’t either. And he needed her to need him. He couldn’t let himself be broken like this.

Valoris willed his hand away from his crotch and suppressed the urge to thrust his hip. He laid there, head swung back, trying to reassert rhythm over his breathing.

Perhaps next time, he promised himself. Next time, he would do something different.

Chapter Text

The time came fast. Before she knew it, it was time for Anivia to leave Terra.

In typical Guilliman fashion, the fleet left with a ceremony. Anivia suspected that Guilliman disliked fanfare as much as she did, but he was less able to avoid it than she was, and so his solution was to get it over with all at once. This analysis amused her. It wouldn’t have been her solution even if she was in his position, but she also understood that, unlike herself, he was, first and foremost, a warrior.

Anivia did her part. Guilliman had taken pity on her and minimized the amount of time she had to stand in front of large groups of people and wave. At least she didn’t have to smile the whole time—with Trajann Valoris standing one step behind her, no one would care if she was smiling or not.

Anivia took residence on Macragge’s Honour, Guilliman’s personal warship and the flagship of fleet Primus of the Indomitus Crusade. It was the size of a small city and densely populated in a way that the Imperial Palace was not. It took quite some getting used to.

Guilliman gave Anivia the quietest chamber on the ship and cleared out all the surrounding chambers for her guards. Still, it took Anivia almost a week to be able to sleep through the night.

Compared to the noise and the population density, the void bothered her surprisingly little. This might be because they were still somewhat close to Terra’s light. It might also be that the daemon incursion during the Days of Blindness had strengthened her soul.

Leaving Terra had given Anivia a kind of clarity she had not expected.

When she was still in the Palace, surrounded by minor lords and Terran politics, it was difficult to remember that Terra was but one among a million planets that the Imperium commanded. Anivia had done a reasonably good job avoiding petty politics, but even she could not be entirely immune. Even Guilliman could not be entirely immune.

Here in the void, suspended in darkness, everything seemed so far away. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Nothing seemed to be truly urgent.

Anivia could understand why people would go mad in the void. If it wasn’t the nightmares, it was the constant reminder of one’s utter insignificance within the grand scheme of the cosmos. She wondered if Guilliman ever felt this way about his decisively non-insignificant existence, or if it was a distinctly mortal feeling.

Their journey was, of course, not entirely uneventful. Although they were bound to Ultramar, they did not ignore everything on the way. The point of taking Anivia out of Terra was to have her see the state of the Imperium with her own eyes, so she could understand its needs better. For this reason, they stopped at several hub-fortresses along the way.

Hub-fortresses were heavily guarded planets that were close to void portals. Guilliman created them in the beginning of the Indomitus Crusade to coordinate supply and recruit.

Back on Terra, Anivia and Guilliman had already planned out the supply chain reform for the hub-fortresses and the tithe network. The basic idea was to use a point system. When planets were requisitioned for the Crusade, they obtained credits that would decrease tithe or, in rare occasions, warrant shipment of supplies. In order to prevent planetary governors from abusing the system, the conditions for the allocation of points and the precise calculations had to be carefully designed. This was the part that Guilliman’s superhuman brain contributed the most.

For the same reason, the hub-fortresses were managed by space marines so calculations could be done fast and with minimal error. This arrangement presented the usual communication challenges between space marines and mortal humans, which was Anivia’s expertise.

Occasionally, they would receive distress calls for ork infestations or Black Legion activities. So far, nothing was serious enough that Guilliman’s fleet couldn’t handle within a few days.

Anivia never went anywhere near the battlefields, but she did attend many of their planning meetings. She wanted to learn about how the space marines communicated with each other.

It was in one of these war strategy meetings that Anivia first met Maldovar Colquan.

Colquan was one of the ten Custodian Tribunes, serving directly under Captain-General Valoris. Although they were technically advisories rather than captains or heralds, Colquan did very little advising. His predecessor had died in the Battle of Lion’s Gate and Valoris picked Colquan specifically to send with Guilliman when he first departed on the Indomitus Crusade. Colquan was the general commander of all of the Custodian forces that went on the Crusade.

When Guilliman returned to Terra, Colquan also came along, but Anivia had not seen him around the Palace. She soon learned why.

Colquan hated mortals.

“This is the war room. It is not for administrators,” Colquan said as he blocked Anivia’s way.

Anivia looked up at him with intrigue but said nothing.

“Does your observation extend to me as well?” Valoris asked calmly, like he was genuinely curious.

“In your capacity as Captain-General, never,” Colquan replied, “in your capacity as the Regent’s Chosen, I’m not sure.”

Valoris seemed almost impressed. Then he looked down at Anivia, as if he was satisfied with this answer and was waiting for further instructions.

Anivia looked straight into Colquan’s eyes and smiled. Colquan was scary, perhaps more so than most Custodians because of his undisguised despise of everything around him. But having worked with both Guilliman and Valoris for years at this point, Anivia barely registered Colquan as a threat.

“I understand that this is the war room, Tribune,” Anivia said in a neutral tone, “is there anything else?”

She looked at him patiently, like she was simply waiting for him to finish his idle observations.

Colquan stared at her in disbelief, then he couldn’t help but stole a glance at Valoris.

Valoris stood behind her with his usual stoic expression. His eyes rested on the back of her shoulders in a calm, restrained kind of way. There was nothing in his mannerism that signalled that he was paying any attention at all to this conversation.

After a moment of pause, Anivia tilted her head and said, “if there is nothing else, then you will have to excuse me, Tribune.” And she walked straight past Colquan.

Chapter Text

Colquan was not the only one to find Anivia’s presence at war meetings confusing, but most people welcomed the sight.

As far as the space marines were concerned, Anivia might as well had been a witch. She did things they either didn’t understand or would absolutely hate doing—she talked to people, walked around, and moved papers. For all intents and purposes what she was doing seemed indistinguishable from the thousands of useless bureaucrats that plagued every corner of the Imperium, leading to rot and stagnation.

Yet when Anivia went through the same motions, stuff happened. Things began to work. The Mechanicus team that was supposed to be short-staffed showed up to crucial maintenance. The supply delay mysteriously resolved itself. The status reports became shorter yet somehow included more information. Even bridge menials were less in the way when they had to run down to the control center.

The changes were mundane and yet transformative. Everything seemed to just…work better.

It took the space marines several weeks to comprehend that this miraculous improvement to their quality of life was attributable to the Regent’s apparently aimless wandering about. Since then, nobody stood in her way and everyone just did what she asked of them without questions or hesitation.

This attitude extended to the war room. Nobody knew why she was there, but everybody, except perhaps Colquan, was willing to believe that it had to be a good thing.

Anivia’s style of reform was everything, everywhere, slow and steady. When faced with a new problem, her default action is to observe.

The space marines did not communicate differently from baseline humans. This was what she learned from her observations.

All of them were war veterans and they behaved as such, which was different from how the Terran lords behaved. But when compared to Cadian veterans of the Militarum, the only differences were that the space marines were louder and had longer attention spans. This was good news because it meant that Anivia could follow their communication without much effort.

She took extensive notes not on what they decided but on how they were deciding. She wanted to know which information was the most critical when choosing between strategies, which resources were more important upfront, what kind of backup they preferred and how they preferred to receive it.

When she supported the first phase of the Crusade from Terra, she had made educated guesses based on her experience working with the Militarum and the Navis Imperialis. She could see now that she was largely right on the major points but missed plenty of details.

Valors could see Anivia’s notes from where he stood with a glance.

He understood the logic of the notes instantly, of course, and he more or less understood the train of thoughts behind them. Yet it still amazed him—to the extent that Custodes could be amazed, of course.

It wasn’t like Anivia did things that were inconceivably extraordinary. Valoris had been Captain-General for a few hundred years and dealt with many High Lords in his capacity as such. Before then, he was a Tribune. Before that, he was a Shield-Captain. He knew how to govern, and he had met many who governed with passable competence. Everything Anivia did, he understood its reasoning perfectly.

Yet before Anivia did it, it wouldn’t have occurred to Valoris that it would’ve been a good idea to do it. It wouldn’t have occurred to Valoris that the impact was worth the effort.

She was so very human in so many ways, yet she was also so decisively different from any of them.

Perhaps that was the point, Valoris realized. The Emperor had always had so much hope in humanity, even though it had disappointed Him many times over. It was as if He was trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results each time.

That had always been an interpretive difficulty among Custodian scholars. Valerian, for example, had written multiple tomes on the matter.

Looking at Anivia—watching her work for more than a decade—had made Valoris begin to understand.

It was within the essence of humanity that they differed. Every single one of them was unique. They were impossible to wrangle, impossible to comprehend. They were impossibly messy.

Perhaps there was beauty in this messiness. Perhaps that was what the Emperor saw in them.

From his vantage point, Valoris could see Anivia’s neck peaking out from the collar of her shirt. The sight made his throat tighten.

Her handwriting was beautiful.

Chapter Text

There was one thing that Anivia was decisively better at than Guilliman, which was the training of mortals.

Guilliman was reasonably good at picking the right mortals for the right jobs, but he had neither the patience nor the presence to really train them. They were too scared of him and he thought too differently from them for any apprenticeship to be effective. He had never forgotten anything he wished to remember. He did not know what it felt like to lose control—though Anivia had threatened to change that.

Anivia was scary in her own way, but it was a way that the mortals knew how to navigate.

All of this was to say that the space marines were not the only ones who had found their lives becoming mysteriously easier with the arrival of Anivia.

“I was worried this day would come.”

Guilliman looked up from his data slate. Despite what he just said, he had a faint smile on his face.

“You have cleared my task list for the next four hours, an impressive achievement,” Guilliman said. “I suppose it’s time to talk about the Ecclesiarchy.”

Anivia chuckled. No one else in the Imperium could even imagine Guilliman as a complainer, as someone who would put off the least desirable part of his duty until he absolutely had to. Anivia cherished this aspect of him.

Before Guilliman’s return to Terra, Anivia had drafted a reform plan of the Ecclesiarchy, but the stories he told her of the Plague Wars made her scratch it all. She had since done quite a bit of research on psychic energies, faith, and the warp. She had also had a few extensive discussions with Dragory about it.

No one could know the exact truth for sure, but the evidence was pretty clear that something about Guilliman was psychic. It could be the Emperor’s protection. It could be his own psychic powers. It could also be the faith that the Imperial citizens had in him.

None of these options was especially appealing. The first would imply that the Emperor was a god. The last would imply that he himself was on his way to godhood. The middle option was acceptable, but Guilliman had never witnessed any direct evidence for it.

“You will have to leave your curiosity for truth to the side,” Anivia said calmly. “Regardless of what is actually the case, the evidence is impossible to deny now. There are too many witnesses. That said, it can still be reasonable for a living god to not want to be worshiped. This is the first major change I propose.”

“Another thing that would be helpful is to adjust some of the doctrine to be more pro-social. I’m thinking treating each other nicely and things like that. It’s going to be a delicate issue because the Inquisition worries that this will lead to tolerance of heresy. My personal opinion is that this does not significantly increase the current level of risk because it is easier to hide heresy now than it would be if people were more socially engaged, but this is currently just a theory. I’ve been running some experiments with the quarantine blocks on Terra and would like to discuss the data with you.”

“Finally, I’ve been wanting to have some sort of structure where people of talents can be channeled towards the right training regimes in a more systematic way. I’ve looked at a few options and I think the best bet is to reform Schola Progenia, which is run by the Ecclesiarchy. I’ve talked to a few cardinals back on Terra. It’s certainly doable, but will require careful planning and lots of consultation.”

Guilliman found it relaxing to hear Anivia talk. Her way of thinking was very similar to his own, and so it almost felt like having his inner voice said out loud. This was especially welcome when the problem vexed him, such as the topic of the Ecclesiarchy.

There were just the two of them in his chamber and she had spent the last two months training enough bridge officers, supply chain coordinators, logistics planners, etc., to make sure that he had the next few hours free. If he was going to deal with the Ecclesiarchy at all, he could not have imagined a more ideal situation than this.

It seemed that Anivia also preferred to get it over with as fast as she could. As time went on, their communication became increasingly brief and efficient. It wasn’t long before they stopped finishing their sentences, expecting the other to fill out the unspoken part. At one point they were simultaneously engaging in three lines of discussion.

When it was all done, it felt like an eternity. Yet Guilliman felt more alive than ever.

Chapter Text

Anivia sat in the center of Guilliman’s gigantic couch, eating a muffin with both hands.

One thing Guilliman had learned today was that thinking was very energy-intensive for mortals. He suppose it was the same for space marines as well, but their bodies were designed to be able to store much greater amount of energy and to allocate it much more efficiently, so it didn’t show as much.

Throughout the past three hours, Guilliman had witnessed Anivia eat a copious amount of food, mostly sweets and diary. While he understood the biological reason behind it, watching someone actually do it for the first time was still quite remarkable.

Guilliman joined Anivia on the couch and cuddled her from behind. She offered him a bite of her muffin but he declined. She happily shoved the remaining piece into her mouth.

The way she ate was quite entertaining to watch. The food wasn’t bad but it wasn’t anything special, yet Anivia seemed to have been delighted by every bite she took. When she finished, she would have this soft, content expression on her face, like she needed nothing more from life.

“How has void travel been treating you?” Guilliman asked as he offered her some milk.

“I’m getting used to it, I think,” Anivia said. “your ship is big enough that it feels like a small town. Dragory had done something to decrease my nightmares too.”

“I’m glad to hear,” said Guilliman. “It is good that the Grey Knights accepted you so seamlessly. Did you know that Malcador was the one who formed the Grey Knights?”

Anivia carefully licked her fingers and commented, “you know, it rather surprises me that you never asked me about the Grey Knights. On several occasions I really thought you would ask, but you never did.”

Guilliman chuckled, “first it was because I wanted your trust. Later it was because I trusted you. But I’d love to hear it if you feel like telling me.”

Anivia smiled and leaned back into his chest, he kissed her hair.

“It’s really not a long story, if you would believe it,” she said. “The incident that took my sisters’ lives…it wasn’t an ordinary incident. It was Loisa’s psychic awakening. She exploded into a portal to the void and summoned daemons. That was when the Grey Knights came.”

Guilliman held her tighter but Anivia remained calm, “they told me that they saw me in some prophecy and would like to make a pact with me. I would do what I do best and they would do what they could to help me.”

“So you have a pact with the Grey Knights?” Guilliman raised his eyebrows.

“No,” Anivia smiled playfully, “I said ‘it sounds like you just want me to keep doing what I’m doing, so what’s the point of the pact? Would you not help me if I said no?’ Then one of them called me a short-sighted brat. So I said ‘I don’t have to be far-sighted. It’s not my prophecy’. They were so upset.”

Guilliman laughed out loud. Anivia could feel the rumbling in his enormous chest.

“I was 16, you know, and just lost my family,” Anivia made a face.

“So did they just let you be?” Asked Guilliman.

“They were going to do something, I think, but then a Custodian came,” Anivia said. “It must’ve been Captain-General Valoris, though he neither spoke nor showed his face. I wouldn’t imagine the Grey Knights would leave so easily if it were just a Tribune.”

“Valoris…” Guilliman made a thinking noise, “I read his service record—what I was able to get access to, anyway. He is an interesting leader. Very strong as a warrior but knows the limitations of a single individual’s strength. He leads with intention. Unorthodox for a Custodian.”

Perhaps. Anivia didn’t know enough Custodians to know whether Valoris was unorthodox. She thought he was a competent leader, but didn’t think his style was particularly special. Now that Guilliman mentioned it, Anivia remembered that the Custodes were artificially created to obey orders. Anivia couldn’t imagine how she would rule if her subjects were genetically engineered to follow her every command without question.

She thought about Valerian, about how he looked at Valoris like his life depended on it. Even when Valoris let him down, there was still no trace of frustration or distrust in his eyes. He was made to be used, and he was just a little sad about not being useful enough. Now that she thought about it, Anivia realized that that was the moment when she truly felt that the Custodes were of a different breed than her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand the Custodes,” sighed Anivia.

Guilliman chuckled, “I don’t think it’s necessary for you to understand them, especially now that they’ve accepted you. But perhaps you can treat Valoris better.”

Anivia turned to look at him in surprise, “what do you mean?”

Guilliman observed her for a while and then laughed. He laughed so hard he fell onto his back and just laid there.

Anivia sat there in utter confusion. Her expression amused Guilliman even further, but he finally took pity on her.

“He feels for you, can’t you tell?” He finally said.

“What?” Anivia looked to be in total shock, “what do you mean?”

“I meant what I said,” smiled Guilliman patiently. “Valoris feels for you, perhaps even more than I do.”

Anivia blinked and tried to gather her thoughts. She had never really been able to get a precise read on Valoris, but there was that one time when she almost died and he…

Anivia frowned. This option didn’t occur to her at the time because she didn’t think these superhumans had that kind of feeling. Not before Guilliman…well. After that, she had more or less forgotten about that episode. By that time, she had begun to appreciate the delicate situation the Adeptus Custodes found themselves in in this new Imperium and she had understood Valoris’s decisions through that lens. She understood why Valoris decided to join the Regent’s Chosen, for example, and she had played her part accordingly. She simply didn’t think…

“It really didn’t occur to me,” Anivia confessed.

“I suspected as much,” Guilliman smiled, “given how you are with me, I would not have been able to withhold my resentment if you had noticed him.”

“Does that mean I should treat you better as well?” Anivia tilted her head at him.

Guilliman held her into a full embrace and sighed, “I already have more than what I ever wished for.”

Anivia turned around and gave him a proper kiss. She said in a whisper, “in that case, perhaps it’s time for you to wish for more.”

Chapter Text

Before Guilliman could process anything, he had flipped their positions. He was directly above her now, pinning her down with his kiss.

He kissed her lips, her neck, her chest. He was about to go down further when something resembling reason returned to him and he paused.

“Are you sure about this?” He asked hoarsely.

Anivia merely smiled. She curled up one of her legs and touched Guilliman’s crotch with her knee.

Guilliman inhaled deeply and gave her a warning look, but did not stop her.

“Let me know if anything feels bad,” he said as he began to take off her uniform, “anything at all.”

This wasn’t Guilliman’s first time. When he was the son of a Macraggean Consul, he participated in the usual activities that the Macraggean nobles did. During that time, Macragge’s culture had an open attitude towards intimacy. Young people were encouraged to experiment with different partners as a way of developing friendship.

Guilliman did the same. If he had to comment on it, he would say that it was unremarkable. After he got older, he decided that he didn’t need this form of entertainment.

Now, he was glad of the tricks he learned back then.

It was clear that Anivia did not know her own body very well. She did her best to reciprocate but her actions were disorderly. When Guilliman took her nipple in his mouth, all she could do was to arc her back and writhe her body.

Then he entered her with his tongue, and she let out a pleasurable sob that almost had him lose it too. With a skillful twist of his tongue, she came.

As Anivia laid there, trying to catch her breath, Guilliman contemplated whether he should just help himself. He was close. The part of his robe that touched his cock was damp with precum. He could always go again if she recovered.

Just as he reached for his cock, Anivia caught his wrist.

“I promised to treat you better,” she said as she tried to get up.

“Are you sure?” He asked teasingly.

“No,” she said, “but it won’t stop me from trying.”

Guilliman laid on his back and Anivia got on top of him. She was still a little weak so he steadied her with his hands.

Anivia took off his robe. Guilliman took a deep breath. His massive cock twitched.

“Your turn to tell me if anything feels bad,” Anivia smiled at him. Guilliman merely nodded.

As it was, Anivia barely had even theoretical knowledge. She was smart, and observant, and creative, but she didn’t think any of it would make up for her lack of experience.

Guilliman seemed to disagree. It seemed that anything she did worked for him and she could do no wrong.

Anivia bent down and kissed the head of his cock. Guilliman let out a sigh.

There was no way it was going to fit inside her mouth, so she licked it. Every muscle in Guilliman’s body tensed as he stopped himself from thrusting into her face.

Anivia licked some more, then she caressed his balls.

“You are driving me to madness,” he muttered, half to himself.

Anivia smiled. With one last suck, he finally came over her face.

They laid there for a long time, savouring the moment. Finally, Guilliman whispered, “I suppose dealing with the Ecclesiarchy isn’t so intolerable after all.”

Chapter Text

If she would be honest, Anivia did not like to deal with the Ecclesiarchy either.

She had been thoroughly of noble blood. She had never paid attention to where her food came from or what clothing she was going to wear. Whenever she wanted something, all she had to do was to say the words and people would bring it to her.

People of faith rarely responded well to people like Anivia—unless they were corrupt, in which case Anivia did not respond well to them.

Still, she had to do what she had to do. She sent out astropathic messages to gather missionaries from all the major sects.

If she was going to succeed, or at least not fail catastrophically, she would need to involve actual priests in every step of the way. She would need to build rapport with the Ecclesiarchy.

Before any priest had had the chance to answer Anivia’s call, however, something happened. Something that would change it all forever.

“We plan to stop at the hub-fortress Sattrochol in about 6 standard hours,” Guilliman said as he entered Anivia’s study. “The astropaths are having trouble getting messages out. The navigators would like to conduct further investigation out of the warp.”

Anivia looked up from her book and nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“The choiremaster couldn’t confirm that any of our messages to the Ecclesiarchy was successful, but our message to Sattrochol was. They informed us that the Sisters of the Void have been stationed there for over a century and they would like to meet you. Have you interacted with their order before?”

Anivia shook her head, “I know that they are an all-female cult of the Ecclesiarchy that focuses on void rescues. They don’t operate near Terra and I haven’t been on any void travel before this one. That said, I believe they interact with Navy and tithe ships often. It makes sense that they will know of me.”

Guilliman had more to say but he paused for a moment.

Anivia was sitting at her desk with a book in her hand, which she had not yet closed. Dragory was the guard of choice today and the only other person in the room. He had been standing, leaning against a wall with his own reading material in his hands. He had saluted Guilliman silently when he entered but had not paid much attention to their conversation.

“Is there any cause for concern, my lord?” Asked Anivia.

“Nothing concrete,” replied Guilliman truthfully, “Commander Aphone of the Sisters of Silence holds the Sisters of the Void in high regard. But something seems odd to me. Their sudden interest in you. The fact that no other messages got out except for this one.”

“Hmm,” Anivia made a thinking noise but did not offer anything else.

“Do you suspect something nefarious, my lord?” Dragory chimed in.

Guilliman looked at him for a moment and looked back at Anivia. Her expression hadn’t changed, but something seemed off.

… it was easier than pretending I could see, which I also had to do for a period of time…

Guilliman suddenly shifted sideways, yet Anivia stayed perfectly still.

“What happened to your eyes?” He asked.

Before Anivia had a chance to respond, Guilliman turned to Dragory and commanded, “how long has she been like this? What happened? Why didn’t you request medicae? Why didn’t you report it?”

He was getting angrier as he spoke. Dragory threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat, “today is day 5. I don’t know what happened. I’ve been commanded to help my lord hide this, though for the record I did object.”

“Don’t blame Dragory. He’s only following orders,” said Anivia calmly.

“Right. Your orders. So I really should ask you this question.” Guilliman’s voice boomed in the study, “You’ve gone blind and your solution is to hide it? Are you out of your mind?”

“No. I did not inform medicae because I know they won’t be able to help. I’m managing well so far and I do not see a reason for spreading panic.” Anivia said with an unusually stern tone, “thus I’ll have to ask you to lower your voice, Lord Commander.”

Objectively speaking, Guilliman knew she was right. The fact that she had managed to hide it for five days attested to her claim that she was managing well. If the blindness was psychic in nature—which seemed to be the case—then the best strategy was to raise this issue after they transitioned out of the warp rather than before.

Yet reasons aside, Guilliman struggled to even comprehend the situation. They had not yet reached Ultramar and the Lord Regent of the Imperium had gone blind. And then she decided to elicit the help of a psyker so she could hide it from everyone else.

“Is this why Dragory was chosen for the past five days?”

A voice appeared at the door. Anivia froze. For the first time in a long time, she seemed genuinely lost for words.

“Captain,” Dragory bowed his head. He had wanted someone to talk some sense into Anivia. Between the two candidates before him, though, he much preferred Guilliman.

Valoris gave Dragory a cold glance that made the latter instinctively reach for his weapon lock, but he simply walked past him.

He is standing right in front of you, Dragory psychically told his lord, though he wasn’t sure if this was helpful.

“I’m sorry,” Anivia said dryly.

“And what do I have use of that for?” Valoris asked calmly. Valoris had three kinds of calmness—hollow-calm, actual-calm, and rage-calm—and Anivia had begun to be able to distinguish between them. There was no doubt that he was in the third mode right now.

“It’s not permanent—I think,” Anivia offered.

“That’s a relief,” he did not sound relieved. “I will not have to panic.”

Anivia opened her mouth but no sound escaped her. She finally realized what she had done.

If it wasn’t for Guilliman telling her about Valoris, she would not have understood his reaction. She was safe. She was able to carry out her duties without interruption. She had a plan to deal with her ailment. She wouldn’t have understood how he could be upset about it.

But he, of course, was not thinking about the Imperium. He had been by her side all these years and he had done all he could to get close to her. He had followed every order she’d given. He had played his role so flawlessly. Yet it was, evidently, still not enough.

He remembered that look in Valerian’s eyes all those years ago when he refused to give him answers. Anivia had explained everything to Valerian in his stead. He needs to understand you, she had said.

Did Valerian feel something similar to what he was feeling now? Why didn’t Anivia notice him like she did Valerian? Did he not need to understand her just like how Valerian needed to understand him?

He had promised himself a chance, yet he realized just now that that was never his call to make.

He was simply not enough.

Anivia reached out with one hand and Valoris instinctively caught it. He was wearing a gauntlet which made his hand appear even bigger in comparison to hers. Anivia held on to one of his fingers.

“What do you need?” He asked. His voice was tense and he was barely holding himself together. But if the best he could be was a tool, he would be that tool. He would give his everything even when it was not enough. He would obey.

“You,” Anivia said simply.

Valoris blinked. For a moment, his mind was entirely empty. He almost couldn’t believe his ears.

Then he looked down and saw that she was…sad. He had never seen Anivia sad before. She had a slight frown and her unfocused eyes stared through his body. He knew she couldn’t see, but it was as if she couldn’t stop herself from searching.

What was she looking for?

You, she had said.

“I’m sorry,” Anivia apologized again and held Valoris’s hand to her forehead. She closed her eyes and said with a sad smile, “only two weeks ago I promised myself that I’d treat you better. Look what I’d done now.”

Her sadness broke something inside Valoris he didn’t even know he had. All of the flames that had begun to burn up his bones had ceased. All of his rage had disappeared. He didn’t care about himself anymore. He should never have cared. If he wasn’t enough, it was his own shortcoming. Now he had made it worse.

“You don’t need to…treat me well, my lord.” Valoris managed to squeeze these words out of himself. It might have been the first time he had called her his lord.

Anivia pulled his hand closer and hugged it.

“I’m going to make it okay.” She promised in a whisper.

Chapter Text

Anivia walked alone in darkness.

She carried a dagger in her hand. It glowed a soft whiteish glow and had a sharp tip. When she looked at it from the corner of her eyes, she would notice some intricate ritualistic carvings throughout its body. Yet when she studied it properly in her hands, the dagger was smooth and unremarkable.

There was no path before her, yet she had travelled this way numerous times in the past few nights.

She kicked something with her foot and it rolled down a hill, making a hollow kind of sound.

Something liquid flowed toward her. It was sticky.

Anivia stopped moving and looked down.

It was a river of redness. Now it was knee-deep.

More white things flowed downstream. They were skulls, floating in the river of blood. Their hollowed eye sockets stared up at her.

Anivia raised her dagger and plunged it into her own heart.

Anivia walked alone in darkness.

Her chest was still sore and she walked slowly. Her dagger was still in her hand. There was no blood stain on it.

There was a breeze and it smelled nice. Not a flowery smell, but like freshly cut grass.

This was probably not where she wanted to be either, but Anivia decided to wait a bit longer.

She heard chatter. Of people? Of birds, perhaps. It was as lively as it was distracting.

A giant viny thing creeped up from the shadows. It grew taller than Anivia and encircled her. It could have easily strangled Anivia but, for some reason, seemed reluctant to touch her.

Anivia stood still and observed.

Leaves grew and chattered around her. Three white flower buds grew on the vines. Anivia had a bad feeling about this.

They grew bigger as the chatter grew louder. Then, with a slight popping noise, they blossomed.

The severed heads of Anivia’s dead sisters stared at her. Blood poured out of the sockets where their eyes would’ve been. They encircled her.

Do you think you could escape us? Do you think death will save you?

Not without strain, Anivia smiled.

“You really do want me to think it’s not you, huh?” She said before plunging her sword into her heart once more.

Anivia walked alone in darkness.

Before she could see anything, a voice boomed around her.

Liar. Usurper. Thief. Weak. Worm. Nothing.

It was so loud that her entire skeleton shook. Her ears ringed and her throat tasted of iron.

“You keep calling me a liar. When have I lied to you?”

Liar. Usurper. Unworthy. Disappointment.

“We are all disappointments to somebody,” Anivia said as she coughed up more blood. “What is disappointing you this time?”

The voice did not answer. Instead, a golden light shone through the darkness, like a fire igniting everything in its path. Lightning struck Anivia’s body and she flew backward, hitting the ground hard.

When she regained her consciousness, she was blind again.

She coughed up even more blood and tried to find the dagger. It was not her only way out of this, but it was the preferred way.

A hand grabbed her arm and Anivia had a panic attack. She tried to fight back but the hand was so strong she had absolutely no chance. Just as she was about to seriously lose her mind, a voice spoke up.

“It’s me.”

“Valoris…” Anivia instantly relaxed. She laid down and tried to feel her limbs again.

After a brief moment, she sat back up and frowned, “how did you get here? Is this still the path of darkness? Did you go through the path too?”

I took him here, of course. The voice said. It was the same voice but also very different. It was calm, restrained, rational. Kind, even, and slightly amused.

Anivia’s lips tightened. Valoris helped her get up.

It was a magical darkness that even his superhuman vision could not penetrate, yet he sensed a being in front of him.

He had a suspicion of what—or who—that being was. He thought he would tremble with exaltation or bow in subservience, but he did neither of these things. Instead, he stood one step behind Anivia like he had always done.

He could sense the being appraising him with intrigue.

I see you still haven’t given up trying to understand my anger yet, admirable patience. The being said to Anivia. But if you heeded my advice and followed the path, you would still be able to see.

“Perhaps,” Anivia said, “but I want to know.”

Curiosity is a distinctly mortal sentiment. You are not mortal anymore.

“All the more reason to cherish it while I still can, don’t you think?”

You speak with such a youthful arrogance. The being said. It was impossible to tell whether it was annoyed or impressed.

“I have nothing to lose.” Anivia said. Then, she paused and tilted her head, “actually, that’s not true. I have a lot to lose. But you can take them from me whenever you wish, so I might as well say my piece.”

Does that include your little protector too? The being asked. At that moment, Valoris suddenly felt an immense presence overpowering him. He had never experienced anything like this before. Every muscle of his body tensed and yet his mind could not find a way out.

“As you have just said,” Anivia said slowly and deliberately, “he is mine.”

The pressure lifted and Valoris was half surprised to find that none of his bones was actually broken.

The being regarded Anivia for a while and commented, the Thirteenth likened you to Malcador. You are not like him at all. You remind me of myself sometimes.

“My arrogance does?”

And your refusal to acknowledge your own limitations.

“Is that why you created them? To remind you of your own limitations?” Anivia asked pointedly.

You died a dozen times on the path of darkness to get to me, and this is what you’d like to discuss?

“No, I was going to converse with your rage, but it seems like I’ve missed my chance. I did learn something you might find interesting, though—the reason that Tzeentch had been pretending to be all sorts of things when it approached me was so it could hide the fact that it had formed a pact with Nurgle.”

How inconvenient, the being said. It did not sound very disappointed.

“I suppose this is where my work begins,” Anivia said, “I suppose I’ll have to wait to find out why you think I lied.”

The Emperor’s presence became more defined. Valoris could make out a hollow silhouette in the darkness, glowing with faint golden light.

Behind Him stood another being.

Valoris instantly knew who he was. If it wasn’t for the way he carried himself, it was for his red cloak and golden armour.

Constatin Valdor, the First of the Ten Thousand.

He stared straight ahead, seemingly without even registering Anivia’s presence.

Valoris understood that expression perfectly.

Valdor, perhaps more than anyone else, resented the Imperium for what it did to the Emperor. He was created before the Unification Wars. He did not care about the Imperium or any of its people. All he had ever wanted to do was to follow the Emperor and obey Him. And then he failed at that.

Valdor was one of the three Custodian Captain-Generals who disappeared without trace. Valoris wondered if the others were also in a quest like theirs. He wondered if he would succeed like Valdor had succeeded.

Perhaps it was because of his stare. Perhaps it was because of their shared soul. Valdor turned his gaze upon Valoris.

The two Captain-Generals’ eyes met. They had no respect for each other. They had no disrespect either.

They stood in opposition to each other, yet for the first time in thousands of years, both of them knew exactly where they stood and why they stood there.

It’s in your hands now, for better or for worse. The Emperor said. They are in your hands now.

Chapter Text

When they returned to the study, it had merely been a second. Guilliman hadn’t even rushed to where she disappeared before she came back. So she debriefed them.

Long story short, the Emperor was trying to ascend to godhood so He could fight the war in the warp.

For that to work, He needed an anchor in the materium. He was going to use Guilliman, but it would be very risky. Guilliman was too like Him in nature and he was already being worshipped. If he had served as the anchor, he might very quickly turn into a angel-prince just like his brothers had turned into daemon-princes. So, Anivia was chosen.

It was not like the same risk didn’t exist for Anivia, but it was much diminished because of the genetic differences between them.

If the Emperor was going to ascend, He would have to gather even more faith from His citizens. That was to be Anivia’s task as well, which was why He had contacted her before she started on her plan to reform the Ecclesiarchy.

There was much more she did not tell them, such as how it all began. The being handed her a dagger and told her that this was her way out. Then she was left to the darkness. She, of course, didn’t use the dagger, and so was torn apart by daemons. Then she learned that she didn’t die. Not for real. Not anymore.

That was how the path of darkness worked. There was no telling which path she was on, and so she had to hop between them until she found where she wanted to be.

She didn’t tell them this part of the story. It was too soon for her to be able to revisit the topic of what she had seen in the darkness.

By the time she finished her explanation, her eyesight had returned, and she all of a sudden felt tired.

“I need to think about this some more,” she sighed, “let’s reconvene at Suttrochol.”

Anivia took a walk on the ship.

Valoris walked with her but she paid him no mind.

With a little bit of breathing room, she had realized just how much stress she had been holding in. She wasn’t quite ready to deal with it yet, but recognition alone was a good start.

The ship was noisy as usual. There were people everywhere and they all stopped to bow at them. Anivia did not return the gesture and they did not expect her to.

She wandered rather aimlessly, turning corners whenever she felt like it. She did not stray from the upper deck, though, and so was essentially walking in circles.

“Lord Regent,” a voice called out, “Captain.”

It was Caslev, the other Custodian in the Regent’s Chosen. He had the same mannerism as Valerian but without the restlessness. Anivia didn’t think much about it at the time, but upon reflection, she suspected that Valoris handpicked Caslev because of how much she had gotten along with Valerian. Caslev was a skilled fighter but he was not even a Shield-Captain.

Caslev was with several other Custodians, including Colquan. When Anivia walked closer, they all turned to her with a mixture of deference and uncertainty.

“Lord Regent,” Colquan stepped forward. Not counting Valoris who was clearly here in his capacity as a Regent’s Chosen, Colquan was the most senior Custodian present, and this was definitely a Custodian issue.

“Many of us have had visions in our dreams or meditations,” Colquan said as he carefully observed Anivia.

Anivia said calmly, “let me guess, the vision is about me? I don’t have a lot to offer right now. What I will say is that it was the Emperor who sent you those visions. I don’t know what He sent but, long story short, you are mine now.”

Silence. The Custodians took a few seconds to process this information. Then, one by one, they knelt before Anivia.

Anivia waited until the last of them got down, then she said, “please rise. You are accepting this faster than I expected, but perhaps such is your nature. I have much more to learn about you and to plan the path forward. Within twelve watches, I will give you more guidance on the matter.”

Her words sounded tired. The Custodians rose as commanded and, for a brief moment, they thought what stood before them was not a person, but a light of pure silver. It was burning itself to illuminate the path.

Now they could see that there was no path, yet the light refused to yield. It burned stubbornly. It burned bright.

And it had declared: you are mine now.

Chapter Text

Anivia stopped in front of the chamber that belonged to Valoris. She was going to let the door scan his biometrics to verify his identity, but the door scanned her instead and opened without issue. She looked at Valoris with a hint of surprise. He remained expressionless.

He followed her inside. It wasn’t until the door was fully closed that he realized what was happening. He looked at her inquiringly.

“You are mine now,” Anivia turned around to look at him.

His throat tightened. He wanted to say something, but she didn’t ask a question, and so he didn’t know what to say.

Anivia tilted her head and asked, “are you going to do whatever I ask of you?”

He nodded, still speechless.

“Take off your armour,” she commanded.

He complied. Custodes’ armours were individually crafted to suit each person. Although they often elicited help from mortal serfs to take the armours off, they did not need it like the space marines did.

Valoris wore a grey bodyglove underneath his armour. It traced his body perfectly. He was not technically naked, yet he felt more exposed than he had ever been. Not even when serfs were putting armoury onto his actually naked body did he feel as revealed as he did now.

The bodyglove displayed every part of his body honestly. Every muscle, every crevice was visible. And he could no longer hide from her.

His crotch bulged out significantly. Anivia’s gaze made it twitch.

He stood there, laying both his soul and his body bare before her. He searched her eyes, trying to decipher the verdict of her judgment.

Anivia was about as tall as Valoris’s upper abdomen, so she leaned forward and planted a kiss there.

He inhaled. His breath was trembling in a way that Anivia had just realized was familiar.

She led him to the bed and laid him down. She put his hands above his head. It was not a luxurious bed, barely fitting just him as it was. She climbed on top of him.

She sat directly on top of his bulge and he shook violently. He grabbed onto the metal bedframe to steady himself and looked at Anivia almost pleadingly.

Anivia slowly grinded her hip. It was so agonizingly slow it almost felt more tortuous than pleasurable. He tried to move his hip to hurry her along, but Anivia ignored him. He tried thrusting upward but Anivia’s body simply rose with his. He so desperately needed more contact it was driving him mad.

A metal pop noise rang as the bedframe bent under his grip.

A hint of amusement flashed in Anivia’s eyes and she finally picked up speed.

It did not take much more to make him cum. He bit his lips so he wouldn’t make any noise. Anivia let him.

Anivia climbed off of him and ordered him to take off his bodyglove.

He did as ordered. His body was made to be able to sustain prolonged periods of excitation, and it showed. His cock was wet from the cum. It was still rock hard and already dripping again, ready for the next round.

His muscles were exquisite. They had a fluid kind of perfection that was difficult for the mind to process. Anivia almost couldn’t decide where to look.

He turned his head towards her, waiting for further instructions.

Anivia willed her attention back. “Have you imagined this situation before?” She asked.

He had done much more than imagined. He nodded.

“What do you do in them?” She demanded, “show me.”

Valoris swallowed. He began to slowly touch himself.

His hand wrapped around his cock and he slowly traced it up and down. His thumb touched the head occasionally. The callus on his palm made this much harder to endure. But he had done this more than enough times to know his own limitations.

He was obedient, yet he was not entirely honest. He was, in fact, very close. He tried to slow himself down. Anivia did not seem to notice.

She touched the scars on his face. Her fingertips were cold, much colder than his skin. She traced the shape of his lips and slid two fingers in between his teeth.

Valoris gasped, more loudly than he had ever gasped. He tried to swallow, and his tongue touched her fingers. He froze.

Anivia bent down to kiss his neck, and Valoris had to engage the entirety of his will to not bite off her fingers. As a result, a rather loud moan escaped him. It sounded so foreign he almost didn’t realize it was his own voice.

“I’m trying to get you to see something,” Anivia whispered into his neck, “can you guess what it is?”

Valoris still had two fingers in between his teeth and so could not speak. He could feel saliva pooling at the corner of his mouth. He tried to swallow again.

In an attempt to stop himself from drooling, he sucked on her fingers. It didn’t work but he kept sucking.

Anivia traced his neck upward with her kiss, finally landing at his lips. Then, she replaced her fingers with her tongue.

His will shattered. Everything inside him shattered. Valoris raised his free hand and pressed down on the back of her head. He arched his neck in an attempt to offer more of himself to her.

It wasn’t long before he came again. He was still not allowed to bite down with his teeth and so he moaned loudly into her mouth. Anivia chuckled. He could feel the gentle vibration of her body.

For a brief moment, he could not tell if any of this was real. Custodes did not dream, yet Valoris had been dreaming for something like this for many, many years.

Anivia finally set his mouth free. She sat up and looked at him.

The Captain-General of the Custodes looked more vulnerable than he had ever been—more vulnerable than anyone had ever imagined possible for him to be. He looked up obediently with wet eyes.

“You are mine now,” she said again and poked at his chest with her wet finger, “here’s what that means: you can always call out to me. I will always answer your questions. I will always answer your call.”

He stared at her. She waited patiently.

It took him a long time to process her words, then he called out softly, “my lord.”

“Yes,” she replied.

“My lord,” he said again.

“Yes,” she smiled.

Anivia thought he was going to keep doing this for some time, but Valoris was evidently not as childish as she would have been. After the second call, he said his piece, “can I serve you now?”

Anivia instinctively said “yes” before realizing what he meant.

Valoris sat up and cradled her with one arm. His hand reached between her legs.

She was already wet. He easily slid one finger inside. He circled the outside with his thumb.

Anivia arched her head backwards and sighed quietly. He wanted to hear her voice. But he suspected that if he put a finger in her mouth like she had done, she would’ve just bit it off, so he had to make do with what he had.

Anivia clawed at his chest like she once clawed at his chestplate. It was not strong enough to draw blood.

Valoris bent down to kiss her forehead. His free hand had found its way back to his own erection.

Anivia reached out her hand. She didn’t have enough brain power to command it, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Valoris took her hand into his and used it to trace his cock.

It shouldn’t have been that different, yet it was everywhere different. The most gentlest touch was now unbearable. He tried to slow down but he couldn’t control himself. He wanted so much more.

Valoris threw his head back. Anivia pulled herself up to kiss his neck.

She bit down as she came. It was still not strong enough to draw blood, but it left a shallow crescent of a teethmark.

Valoris came one last time. He held onto his lord like everything depended on it. And he would forever obey her will.

Chapter Text

Twelve watches were, in Terran terms, 48 hours.

It was not enough time for Anivia’s commissioned parchment to arrive, so she had the furniture and carpet of her study removed and used the metal floor.

They had transitioned out of the warp and entered the Sattrochol hub-fortress. There were several officials lining up to meet Anivia, but Guilliman made them wait so she could do what she promised the Custodes and offer a proper explanation within twelve watches.

By way of preparation, Anivia was drawing up a graphic representation of the Ecclesiarchy on the floor of her study—its internal structures as well as its external relationships. She had done this many times on paper during her childhood training period. Since then, she had mostly been able to do it in her head. The Ecclesiarchy was too complex to be purely mental, however.

It also served as a training session. All of her three adjutants were to help and to take detailed notes. All of the Regent’s Chosen were present, too.

With ten superhuman lined up against the walls, the room appeared very cramped. Anivia did not trust them to write. Only herself, her three adjutants, and the two Sisters were allowed to walk on the inner floor.

Anivia was, by most accounts, a methodical ruler, perhaps even more so than Guilliman. Yet the way she thought was surprisingly nonlinear. She was used to having multiple people researching multiple threads for her at the same time. She did this with archival assistants even before she had adjutants.

“Living saints…” Anivia muttered as she marked the few Ecclesiarchy cults that had rumours of living saints and their last confirmed sightings. The most recent had been Saint Celestine, who was sighted by Guilliman himself.

“Probably best to wait for them to come to me,” Anivia said. “Who else are more psychic than physical?”

Her question was directed at no one in particular, but Teka answered. He was the only one present who had participated in this exercise before. It was when Anivia first became the Master of the Administratum and had to quickly gain a footing in Adeptus Terra.

“There is no psyker unit in the Sororitas,” Teka read off from his data slate. “They are wary of sorcery.”

“I have heard rumours of Repentia units exhibiting something that appears psychic in nature,” Dragory chimed in. “Apparently they are able to sustain immense amount of injury while remaining combat effective. They believe that it is due to the Emperor’s protection.”

“Possibly,” Anivia said as she used a blue pen to write Repenta? next to Sororitas. “The Frateris clergy are dispatched with the Militarum, right? Do they bear arm?”

“I believe so,” said Teka.

“Does that not violate Decree Passive?” Asked Anivia.

“Well…” Teka smiled, “technically, probably. But they are not officially a part of the Adeptus Ministorum.”

“Too risky,” muttered Anivia and crossed out the word Frateris.

“What about Schola Progenium?” Asked Sulachana, “you’ve been wanting to reform the schola anyway, my lord, and almost all of the Ecclesiarchy recruitment goes through Schola Progenium.”

“That is exactly why I cannot touch the Schola,” said Anivia. She did not explain further, still occupied by the more important thoughts. “What about Missions? Are there any missionaries active in Ultramar?”

“There are several,” confirmed Nora. “Mainly charity Missions aimed at recovery. There is also at least one exploratory Mission, though.”

“Great, I need information on scale, key personnel, activities, local contact, as much as possible in two watches.”

“Yes, my lord.” Nora bowed and left the study. She took two of the Ultramarines with her.

“Good,” Anivia nodded to herself, and abruptly changed topic again. “Anyone here has a working relationship with the Black Templars?”

To the superhumans present, it might as well had been wizardry. Anivia clearly had a vision, but none of them could decipher even the shape of it.

Not all of them were curious, of course. Valoris for one had completely stopped caring about Anivia’s scheming and was only interested in carrying out her will. It was not within Caslev’s nature to pry and he happily followed his Captain’s lead. The Sisters were more guarded than the others as they often were, but they also seemed to have the best sense of what Anivia was up to and, if not approved, at least accepted its necessity.

The space marines were more curious. Areios did not ask any questions but he followed the conversations closely. The other primaris marine—Exium, also of Guilliman’s line—frowned the entire time as he concentrated on the information exchanges. The two Ultramarine First Borns were still with Nora. The two Imperial Fist First Borns were compiling files on the Black Templars, Auric Paragons, and other Astartes chapters that worshipped the Emperor under Teka’s directions. They were obedient enough, as that was the primary choice criterion when Valoris put together the team, but they could barely hide the disgust expression on their faces over what they were reading. Anivia made a mental note to have them wear helmets if she ever got to meet the Black Templars.

The librarian Donas Maxim seemed to the most comfortable, as he had spent most of his time listening to the thoughts of humans since enlisted by Guilliman’s Crusade. He was not listening to Anivia, of course. He wouldn’t dare doing something like this without sanction, and certainly not while Dragory was in the room. He just happened to have a much better understanding of the power of interpersonal relationships that governed the human Imperium. He had also witnessed Guilliman utilizing such intrigues with mortal lords enough times to accept its necessity. If anything, he was glad that Anivia was taking on this aspect of the work over his gene-father, for he knew how much Guilliman hated it.

As always, Anivia consumed a copious amount of food as she worked. Sattrochol was a hub-fortress and so entirely military. The entirety of the kitchen staff on Macragge’s Honour was devoted to making food whose taste was acceptable to their Lord Regent.

After working for three watches, Anivia took rest. She slept on the floor of her study. She was going to lay down to clear her mind but passed out before Sulachana returned with the recaf. Sulachana decided to let her lord sleep.

Despite what might appear to the untrained eye, Anivia was in fact making very good progress. The floor of her study was filled with unfinished words and half erased lines because she was not trying to make her notes readable. She was simply organizing her thoughts, and Sulachan could tell that her plan had already taken shape.

Anivia had given Sulachana remarkably little instruction. The adjutant understood that this was a sign of the most precious kind of trust—trust in her abilities, and she did not want to let her lord down. As Anvia slept, Sulachana signalled for Areios to follow her outside.

“I’ve read the files you compiled for the Lord Regent on the state of Ultramar,” said Sulachana. “Our lord hasn’t had a chance to see it yet because of recent events. I’d like to devise a fuller plan of Ultramar for when she has time. Can you update the information and confirm Lord Guilliman’s priorities for me?”

“Are you going to do this without our lord’s counsel?” Areios asked in surprise.

“I’m going to devise a plan for her approval,” Sulachana clarified. “No action will be taken without explicit sanction from her and the Lord Commander.”

“We are still a while away from Ultramar,” observed Areios. He wasn’t objecting to her decision, but he was curious.

“And yet my usefulness is limited for the current moment,” smiled Sulachana. “And I wish to lessen her burden.”

Areios could sympathize. He has often felt the desire to lessen his own gene-sire’s burden while simultaneously needing to accept the limitations of his own usefulness.

“I will aid you,” he said sincerely, “lord Lamiar.”

Chapter Text

Anivia was woken up by vox comm. It was from Guilliman.

“A small squad of Grey Knights has entered the Sattrochol system. 6^th company. Led by the Grand Master Caddon Varn.” Guilliman did not sound distracted even though he was simultaneously processing several other data streams, “they ask to see you.”

Anivia sighed. She sat up, rubbed her eyes, and drank the recaf Sulachana had freshly made for her.

Guilliman chuckled in the vox at the noise, “it was you who insisted on doing it your way. Shall I send for the Sisters?” He was, of course, referring to the Sisters of the Void.

“Yes please,” Anivia yawned. “Do you have reasons to be absent? I plan to bring Colquan.”

Guilliman knew instantly what she was planning. “If that’s your angle, would you like to take Sister Commander Aphone as well?” He offered.

Anivia thought about it for a while and sighed again, “it would work well except I haven’t had time to learn Thoughtmark yet, so let’s not chance it.”

“Fair enough,” Guilliman said. He was silent for a while, then a counter appeared on Anivia’s data slate. Time until meeting: 24:59.

“Good luck,” he said before cutting out.

Anivia jumped up from the floor. she made a series of commands through vox as she ran to the shower.

Anivia disliked pulse showers. Back on Terra where water was scarce, she had been able to take baths whenever she wanted. Such was the luxurious lifestyle of a High Lord. Here on Guilliman’s ship, however, she had tried her best to observe the standard military lifestyles. This meant pulse showers.

Her skin was entirely red after the shower and she felt like someone had punched her all over. She sighed once more and gestured for Sulachana to help her put on a dress.

As Guilliman rightly pointed out, Anivia did specifically want to do this her way which, unfortunately, meant the more painful way.

Valoris had never seen Anivia wear a dress.

She had worn dresses before, of course. She was not military, and so would wear dresses to social events. When she was the Master of the Administratum, she went to quite a few. Valoris was simply not at any of them.

Anivia wore a black-and-white dress with golden embellishments. The style was distinctively noble yet pious at the same time. It conveyed the information that someone who had never known scarcity liked the idea of it, and so tried to imitate it with imagination alone.

It made her look naive. More annoyingly—to Valoris, at least—it made her look fragile.

“Are you ready, my lord?” Sulachana asked as she stylized Anivia’s hair.

“Rationally? Yes. Psychologically? No.”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it, my lord,” Sulachana smiled. Many people in the Imperium would find her amusement in her lord’s misery blasphemous, yet she knew that Anivia, much like Guilliman in many ways, cherished these displays of humanity.

Besides, Anivia did have a rather adorable misery face.

Anivia was hoping to be able to debrief her allies before meeting outsiders, but the Grey Knights were here. Given her current priorities, she would certainly meet with the Sisters of the Void before meeting the Grey Knights. At the same time, she didn’t want to test how long the Grey Knights were willing to wait.

So she had to pretend that she was free and ready to meet them all, in the order of their requests.

It wouldn’t have been the end of the world if Anivia had missed her self-imposed deadline of twelve watches to the Custodes, but she hated to miss deadlines. If all went well, she was reasonably confident that she would be able to make it still.

Chapter Text

The Lord Regent of the Imperium met with the Sisters of the Void in the reception room onboard Macragge’s Honour. The Lord Commander sent his regrets as he was still occupied on the surface of Sattrochol, but he had received the Sisters when they first arrived, and that was more respect than they had expected.

The Lord Regent was also respectful. She seemed to have chosen her outfit based on what would be appropriate for Sanguinala. It was not exactly appropriate for the Void Sisterhood’s beliefs, but they appreciated the effort.

“Please accept my most sincere apologies for the delay,” said the Regent. She spoke Low Gothic with a Terran accent, similar to that of many merchant fleet captains.

“There is no need to apologize, my lord,” said Sister Captain Askali. “We come to meet you, herald of the throne, as we have been bid by His will.”

The Regent smiled serenely, “He watches over us all.”

The Regent was quite different from what Askali had imagined.

Askali, like most of the Sisters of the Void, was voidborn. She was born on a merchant fleet and had spent most of her time onboard merchant fleets and tithe ships. She had seen many Terran officials over the years and knew what they looked like.

Or, she thought she knew what they looked like.

Askali had expected a strong woman, militant and controlling. She understood that Imperial Regency was not a military post, but she had heard the rumours that Lord Guilliman was steering the Imperium into a military direction. He had appointed Eos Ritira to be the new Ecclesiarch, for example, who was known to be a commander of troops and a hater of politics. This had been quite controversial not because of Ritira, but because many in the Ecclesiarchy disliked the idea of having the Lord Commander appoint Ecclesiarchs. They only reluctantly accepted it because of Guilliman’s status as the son of the God-Emperor.

The Lord Syrren did not in any way look like the type that would have caught the Lord Commander’s eye. She had a soft smile that was barely not meek. Her eyes had the kind of confident tranquility that could only be given by faith, not self-assurance. She did not look like she would last for more than seconds on a battlefield.

That was when Askali noticed that, despite them being onboard a primarch’s vessel, there was no space marine in the room.

The Regent had taken three Custodians and two Silent Sisters with her. The Sisters and two of the Custodians were never introduced—presumably because they were her guards. They stood behind her with perfectly stoic expressions on their faces, seemingly not paying attention to the meeting.

The third Custodian had been introduced as Tribune Colquan. Askali had never seen a Custodian, but she knew that Tribunes were very high in rank, only below the Captain-General.

Colquan did much of the talking. He first asked Askali how the Emperor’s vision was given. After she explained that it was through the Emperor’s Tarot, Colquan snarked. He then looked at the Regent with an irritated expression. She smiled apologetically but remained silent.

She was not Guilliman’s choice, then, Askali noted to herself. She was chosen by the Ten Thousand. How interesting.

She felt sorry for her. She had heard of rumours that the son of the God-Emperor was wary of faith. She was glad to see that the Regent was faithful, but it must’ve been difficult to live in the Commander’s shadows. Askali wondered how long she would last.

The meeting was short. Askali had come to pledge the allegiance of the Void Sisterhood as commanded by the Emperor’s will. The Regent had welcomed it, of course, but she did not have much to ask them. Her current priority, she explained, was to help the Lord Commander with Crusade supplies.

But you could do much more! Askali wanted to tell her. You have the Emperor’s blessing!

The Regent smiled at her, and she instantly realized that she knew. Of course she knew; she was the cherished Master of the Administratum. She was not a fool.

“I’ll need to be sure,” said the Regent, almost in a whisper. “I need to be sure I’m following His will.”

Askali couldn’t argue with that.

“If you need anything,” Askali said finally, “you can always call upon us.” And she meant it.

Chapter Text

“What was that?” Colquan demanded as soon as they left the Void Sisters’ earshot.

“It’s not the twelfth watch yet,” Anivia said without looking up from her dataslate.

“That was brilliant performance, my lord!” Sulachana voxed. She had been watching through vid feed. “Lord Dragory estimates that the Grey Knights have about 6 more hours of patience left. What are your plans?”

“I’ll meet them in half an hour or once the Void Sisters have disembarked, whichever is later,” said Anivia as she walked towards her shower room. Two pulse showers in one day. No one would ever be allowed to say that she didn’t personally sacrifice for the Imperium.

“Understood,” said Sulachana, “I will update you within 25 minutes.”

It did not take 25 minutes to confirm the departure of the Sisters of the Void, so Anivia started her counter again.

She changed into her usual uniform, which was designed to be as professional as possible without sacrificing comfort.

She would like to have Guilliman present for this meeting, but she didn’t want to chance arousing the suspicion of the Void Sisterhood.

Should she bring Colquan again? Anivia contemplated. She didn’t need him there as she was planning to do all the talking herself this time, but she found Colquan’s reaction to these things quite amusing.

Was it the same kind of amusement Guilliman had felt about her when they first met?

Anivia took Colquan, Valoris, Areios, Exium, Maxim, Dragory, and Nora. Sulachana was busy with throne knew what, and Teka was still deep in Guilliman’s archives.

Anivia had arrived two minutes early, yet Grand Master Caddon Varn was earlier still. He had brought five other Grey Knights, all armoured and helmed, all ignoring the seating provided for them.

“Grand Master,” Anivia greeted him.

“Lord Syrren,” replied Varn. “It’s been awhile. I believe I ought to congratulate you on your rise to regency.”

“Just as it would be imprudent for me to congratulate you,” Anivia said slowly, “we all observe our proper functions within His will.”

It was only words, yet Dragory had to fight the instinct to shudder. Her words were sharper than knives.

Anivia walked up to the center throne and sat in it. It was the master throne and hence naturally designed for Guilliman. It made Anivia look like a doll. Yet the way she sat—it spoke of dominion, of righteous ownership, of intentionality. It was mesmerizing.

“My apologies,” Varn relented. “Caution is the principle on which my order survives. I hope you can understand.”

“Caution is a strange word,” observed Anivia coldly. “It implies the guarding of something precious. As we have discussed many years ago, the vision is yours, not mine.”

Varn took a deep breath. Dragory had to concentrate quite hard to stop himself from smiling.

“Point taken, Regent,” Varn said through gritted teeth. “Despite what you seem to think, I come in peace.”

“And I appreciate it, Grand Master.” Anivia’s smile was a little more genuine than before, but still not entirely warm. “Your duty is to fend off the enemies, while mine is to keep house. Your burden is heavy, yet I have my own to carry.”

Varn narrowed his eyes, “I have a sense that you are referring to something specific. Would you care to enlighten me, Regent?”

Anivia did not immediately answer. For the first time since they had met, she seemed to be chewing on her words.

Before she was fully satisfied with what she was about to say, Varn had understood the meaning behind the hesitation.

“It’s Fenris, isn’t it?” He said gravely, “do you stand with the Wolves?”

Anivia looked at him with a hint of genuine surprise but quickly regained her center.

“I stand only with the throne,” she said noncommittally.

Varn sneered, “then I have nothing to worry about.”

“Of course, Grand Master.” Anivia observed him carefully. Much to Varn’s surprise, she did not press further on the issue.

What happened on Fenris? There was no way to know for sure, and that was the problem.

Even Cadia had survivors after its fall, yet no mortal soul lived to tell the story of Fenris. The Council knew that Fenris had been devastated and that chaos was in some way behind it. The news had arrived on Terra shortly before the Days of Blindness and Anivia had assumed that the lack of detailed follow-up was due to communication instability caused by the Rift. Since leaving Terra, she had read up on Fenris a little bit more, and she realized that no follow-up would be forthcoming because there was no one to do it anymore.

The Grey Knights had liquidated the entirety of the mortal army forces who participated in the war, presumably for witnessing chaos firsthand.

They had done something like this to Fenris a few hundred years prior, which resulted in a schism between the Space Wolves and the Inquisition. This was partly why Anivia had never gotten the chance to interact with the Space Wolves in any capacity yet—not that she had had the reason to.

She did not know if the Space Wolves had declared yet another vendetta on the Grey Knights, just as she did not know what the dangers truly were if those brave souls had been allowed to live. She was not there to pass judgment, however. All she wanted to do was signal to the Grey Knights that she was capable of noticing such things without passing judgment. Yet.

Varn seemed to have gotten the message and was unsettled by it. He was sharp, much sharper than Anivia had anticipated.

Last time they had seen each other was in the aftermath of that incident. The Grand Master of the 6^th company had been Aval Laraon, who had done all of the talking, including calling Anivia a short-sighted brat.

Anivia had planned for Varn to take after Laraon, but that did not seem to be the case.

Varn was still a space marine, with the typical irritation and impatience. He did not seem to have spent much time thinking about interpersonal politics, or else he wouldn’t be in his current situation. Yet he was sharp, with an almost natural acuity to tones and hidden meanings.

Anivia decided to change strategy. She asked innocently, “and to what, exactly, do I owe the honour of your visit, Grand Master?”

The question seemed to have given Varn some comfort. He said with a stern voice, “I have received reports of psychic activities around you, Regent. It is of a kind that none of us has witnessed before. Do you have any clues as to what might be the source?”

Anivia did not have to wait long for Colquan to interject. “Am I to understand that you mean to inquisition the Lord Regent?” He asked aggressively.

“No, Tribune,” Varn replied calmly, “not yet.”

Anivia almost let out a smile. Dragory shot her a quick glance that was somewhere between amusement and warning. He interjected, “yes, there are clues. I deem them to be below alert level.”

Varn glanced at him with some annoyance but could not object. As much as he disliked Dragory, he had no reason to doubt either his loyalty nor his ability.

“Just as a precaution, Regent, it would comfort us greatly if you’d allow an inquisitorial delegate to travel with you—one with the appropriate rank.” He said the last part slowly.

That was not a slight. When Dragory still served in the 3^rd Brotherhood of the Grey Knights, he was ranked as an Epistolary, responsible for communication relays. The only reason he served as the Inquisitorial Representative was because, compared to all of his brothers, he hated mortal politics the least.

“Do you mean to escort me yourself, Grand Master?” Anivia asked.

“No. I will have my delegate meet you on Macragge.”

Anivia observed him. He knew that she was not psychically gifted. He also knew that even the most powerful psyker of this galaxy wouldn’t be able to read his mind without him noticing, yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that her silver eyes were staring right through his soul.

“Very well,” she said finally. “Peace it is.”

After the Grey Knight squad had left and they were walking back to Anivia’s study, Dragory whispered, “you knew what they came here for, my lord.”

“Of course I do,” Anivia yawned, “but it never hurts to go through the motions. Now I also know that they trust me.”

“How do you know that?” Areios asked in surprise.

“If he had meant to send a delegate all along, there would be no reason to visit me in person,” Anivia said. “He wanted to assess me. If he didn’t trust me, he would’ve stayed.”

“What do you think changed his mind?” Asked Nora.

Anivia shrugged, “maybe it’s the Tribune.” She looked at Colquan with a smile.

Colquan grunted. “It’s almost the twelfth watch,” he said sternly.

“I know,” Anivia said lightly. She lifted a hand to rustle her hair; it waved with the movement of her fingers in a beautiful rhythm. “Let’s use the war room.”

Chapter Text

That evening, at the twelfth watch, they convened in the war room.

All two hundred something Custodes aboard Macragge’s Honour were present, and so there was no other room that could accommodate them.

Guilliman also came, though he stood in the back of the room with the other non-Custodian members of the Regent’s Chosen and Anivia’s three adjutants.

None of them wore armour. Someone seemed to have told them that the Regent disliked the humming sound of power armour, though Anivia couldn’t imagine who, because it couldn’t possibly have been Valoris.

Not all of them wore their signature black cloaks, though some of them did. The black cloak had been a symbol of shame; the colour meant to remind them of their past failures. Since Era Indomitus, Custodians who had joined Guilliman’s Crusade had adopted the practice of abandoning the black cloak after they had met some self-imposed standard of glory in battle.

All of them stood perfectly still, hundreds of pairs of superhuman eyes staring at Anivia unblinkingly. Even she felt a little dizzy.

Anivia sat on Guilliman’s throne and cleared her throat.

She did not use a vox caster and she did not speak very loudly, relying entirely on the superhuman hearing abilities of those present. Her adjutants would have to resolve to lip-reading, though of course she was going to debrief them separately.

“Over the course of several nights, the Emperor visited me,” Anivia began in a calm tone, as if she was telling a bedtime story. “More precisely, the Emperor made me a perpetual and had me walk the path of darkness to visit Him.”

Several of the more occultly knowledgeable Custodians exchanged glances. They had a vague idea of how the path of darkness worked. It did not sound pleasant.

“He showed me some of the Imperium’s history—not the part where we have records; we didn’t have that kind of time to waste. In any case, I have a passing knowledge of what His Plan A was. We all know what happened with that. Now we are onto Plan B.”

“Plan B is for Him to ascend into godhood within the warp. I know many of you find the idea distasteful.” She gave Guilliman a glance, “the Emperor does, too. That’s why it’s Plan B.”

“In order for it to work, several things need to be in order. Once we stop by Ultramar, Lord Guilliman will cross over to Imperium Nihilus to take back as much Imperium as possible. That part aligns with our original plan. I will stay on Macragge and institute a number of interventions on the Ecclesiarchy. Part of this is to gather faith for the Emperor more effectively, as He will need to draw upon faith to sustain His power.”

This was the part he hated the most.

“There is another reason for the reform.”

Anivia hesitated. She looked at the faces of the gathered Custodes with an almost merciful expression. But she knew she must tell them.

“The Emperor is fractured. He remains powerful but, given the instability of His soul, that presents more risk than consolation. I spent most of my time on the path of darkness trying to understand the reason behind this fracturing but yet without success. I suspect that faith might be able to heal Him. Not more faith per se, but different kinds of faith. That’s what I’m going to try, at least.”

“Here is the first thing you should know about me: I do not believe in secrecy. Sometimes secrecy may be necessary, but oftentimes it is not, especially among allies. That’s what we are now. This is especially important since I won’t be the kind of ruler you are used to. In fact, I will try not to be a ruler at all.”

“If I were still mortal, it would be a lot easier. I could simply put a timer on myself and rule like Vangorich.” The way she casually compared herself to a tyrant who seized power through a coup known as the Beheading did not escape the assembled superhumans. None of the Custodes reacted, however. The space marines that were part of the Regent’s Chosen exchanged glances.

“But the Emperor has decided that I should be around for much longer,” continued Anivia. “That means I cannot rule humanity; I must teach people to rule themselves. That is a much more tedious task.”

“But humanity needs to be ruled,” interjected Colquan, “the Emperor said so.”

Colquan was standing near the front, only one step behind Valoris. Valoris was here in his capacity as the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes and wore his black cloak. Although quite a few Custodians turned their faces to Colquan, Valoris did not react.

Anivia’s lips curled into a warm smile; she had definitely began to see the benefit of Colquan’s lack of filter.

“And this is the second thing you need to know about me,” she said slowly, as if giving time for the Custodians to process, “I will be disagreeing with the Emperor on many things.”

“Another part of our arrangement is that I shall serve as His worldly anchor,” Anivia explained. “Don’t ask me what that is; that’s a librarian question. What that means is that I will need to retain a certain degree of spiritual independence from Him. I cannot be worshipped and I cannot worship Him. You will need to understand this. It is His will to put me where I am, but my words are entirely my own. If He starts to guide me like He has guided so many others, I won’t be able to serve my role as anchor.”

This was another reason why it couldn’t be Guilliman. The Emperor expected that He would need to guide Guilliman’s hands again if he was going to succeed in Imperium Nihilus.

“Besides, I am most effective when I do what I understand and think is right,” Anivia continued calmly. “If that is not good enough, the Emperor is welcome to choose someone else. I have no leverage in this exchange.”

She certainly did not speak like she had no leverage, although anyone could see that what she said was true.

“But I will give you a choice,” offered Anivia. “You do not need to walk with me. If you prefer to serve on the battlefield, you can remain with Lord Guilliman—I would make some of you do it anyway just because of the need. If you prefer to serve the Emperor directly like you had been doing, you can return to Terra. Your Captain-General will make the appropriate arrangements. Although he walks with me, the Emperor still guides his command of the Ten Thousand.”

For reasons that Anivia would never understand, it was this comment that stirred the Custodians the most. It was not when she told them that the Emperor planned to ascend to godhood, nor when she compared herself to Vangorich, nor when she said that she disagreed with the Emperor on many things. No. It was when she gave them a choice that they began to stir.

They looked at each other with uncertainty. Black cloaks brushed against each other as the bodies turned, making gentle rustling sounds. Then they looked at Anivia again, eyes in desperate searching of something she didn’t understand.

Just as Anivia had hoped, Colquan spoke.

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was stern, and he stared at Anivia with an expression that was almost angry.

Unfortunately, this was one of the very rare occasions on which Colquan’s outburst didn’t help. Anivia was genuinely at a loss. She stared at Colquan for a moment, trying to figure out what he was asking. Then she noticed Valoris looking at her, with a strange expression that looked almost like amusement. It was the first time she had see something coming close to resembling a smile on his face.

As with Guilliman, she was glad that Valoris was entertained, but gladness was not very helpful for the current situation.

Thinking of Guilliman, Anivia glanced at him too, only to discover that Guilliman was, without a doubt, amused. He took advantage of the fact that he was standing in the very back of the room and openly smiled at her. Anivia almost rolled her eyes at him.

After a long period of uncomfortable silence, Valoris took pity on Anivia.

“Do we disappoint you, Lord Regent?” He asked, slowly, “or is this a test?”

Despite the amusement in his eyes, his voice was cold. Several Custodians nodded to themselves, relieved that someone had said their piece for them.

Anivia still didn't quite understand what made them think she was disappointed, but she understood from Valoris that she should not press.

“I am not disappointed in you and I am not testing you,” Anivia said firmly. Then she sighed, “I seem to think in a way that is very different from all of you. That’s not a bad thing, but it does mean that we have much to learn about each other. Please, if something I do confuses you, just ask me. I do not believe in secrecy.”

The Custodians stared at her, seemingly still confused. Even Colquan shot Valoris an uncertain glance, which the latter did not return. At least the Tribune no longer looked angry.

“That is a lot of information for right now,” Anivia said, drawing the meeting to an end. “I have a rough plan with the Ecclesiarchy in mind. I will have more details once we get to Ultramar. You are, as I said, welcome to talk to me at any point to clarify anything you’d like to know.”

With that, she took all the non-Custodians out of the war room, and left the Ten Thousand to themselves.

Chapter Text

“Areios, be honest with me,” as soon as they were far enough away, Anivia asked Areios, “did I come off as distrustful? Why was the Tribune upset? Why did they think I was disappointed?”

Areios shot Guilliman a pleading look but the latter refused to help, so he answered hesitantly, “it is unusual for them to be given the choice of refusing service, I think.”

“I understand that. But why would they be upset? It’s only an option. They don’t have to take it.”

“They are offended that you think they might take it?” Areios offered.

That made (a little bit of) sense. Anivia thought on it for a while.

Areios hesitated. He looked at Guilliman, who smiled at him encouragingly, as if he knew what was on his mind.

“You seem genuinely troubled, my lord.” Areios ventured, “that is surprising to me—to us.” He added. The other Astartes didn’t nod exactly, but it was obvious that all of them agreed.

“Um, is it surprising that I wish to get along with those who might die for me?”

“Yes,” Teka answered without hesitation.

Anivia rolled her eyes, this time for real. She was getting tired and decided to leave this mystery for another day.

“If you say so. Now, go get some rest and take tomorrow easy,” ordered Anivia. “Lord Guilliman, do you wish to confer with me?”

She had not yet had the chance to talk with him in private since she made her deal with the Emperor. She imagined that he had much to ask her, but had decided to let her prioritize the Custodes.

“Yes, but not now,” Guilliman smiled. “You should get some rest as well. We will talk tomorrow.”

Anivia slept well.

It was the last night they were spending in Sattrochol. Soon they would be back into the warp, accompanied by nightmares. Truth be told, Anivia rather missed the nightmares. She would take them a hundred fold over the path of darkness.

She woke up naturally, feeling well rested for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

She touched her chest before realizing that it didn’t hurt. She had not spent the past few hours plunging a ritual dagger into her own heart over and over again. Here was a cause worthy of celebration.

Anivia smiled to herself as she remembered something almost as delightful—Sattrochol did not have a water shortage. She could take a proper shower. Maybe even a bath.

The thought of it alone energized her, and Anivia jumped off the bed, ready to run to the breakfast table as she used to do as a child at scholum.

Then she ran straight into him.

Valoris extended his hands reflexively to cushion the impact. It didn’t work very well. Anivia hit her face on his forearm and immediately teared up. Thank the Throne he was not wearing armour.

It once again completely escaped Valoris’s imagination how any of this could happen. How she didn’t wake up the moment he stepped through her door. How she didn’t immediately notice him upon waking. How she didn’t see that he was standing between her bed and the door as she ran this way. How she didn’t stop herself one second before impact. None of this made any sense to him. Anivia did not make sense to him.

He knelt down on one knee to examine her. At least she didn’t actually injure herself. Her eyes were teary. The sight made his throat tighten.

“Good morning,” Anivia mumbled as she tried to soothe the pain in her nose.

Valoris did not reciprocate the pleasantry. He said flatly, “we are 3 hours and 24 minutes away from leaving Sattrochol. Would you like to review the resupply summary?”

3 hours and 24 minutes. That meant he had been here for at least 36 minutes without waking her up. Anivia wondered if he would’ve let her sleep through the final check up entirely if she didn’t wake up on her own.

“Sure, but over breakfast,” she said.

With the Lord Commander onboard and Macragge’s Honour having its own logistical line, there was no reason for Anivia to be involved in resupply decisions. The report was prepared on Guilliman’s command. Most people thought it was only a formality, to demonstrate the primarch’s respect for the Regent’s authority. Valoris knew it had to be more than that, though he didn’t know what more there could possibly be. Until he saw.

Anivia was taking three sets of notes at the same time. One set was a list of recommendations for reorganizing the presentation of the report for easier perusal. Nora would take this personally to the relevant offices and supervise the adjustments. The second set was a list of junctions where she suspected had encountered difficulties just from reading the numbers. She would have to follow up on them later. The third set contained information that was possibly relevant to her other plans. These would be sent to Teka and Sulachana for further processing.

Anivia took notes with pen and parchment. She wrote in shorthand but not especially hurriedly, and she continued to consume food at a steady pace. Despite her clumsiness in many other areas, her table manners were superb. Not a single drop of crumb fell onto the parchments.

Since none of these items was urgent, Anivia sent her approval of the report through her data slate and held onto her notes until they were in the void, so as to not interfere with the pre-departure check-ups.

Unfortunately, the bath would have to wait.

Valoris stood there and watched her work the entire time, his expression as stoic as ever. When she was done, he gathered up her notes and signaled the servants to clean up the breakfast table.

Anivia stood up and stretched. After the servants left, she finally asked him, “about last night—I suppose it might have come off as offensive when I implied that some of the Ten Thousand might wish to refuse service. Did you explain to them that that was not my intention?”

Valoris hesitated for a moment and said slowly, “they—we do not need to be explained. All we need to do is follow.”

This was not the first time he had expressed this sentiment, and all of the previous times Anivia had dismissed him. But she had come to see that he was right. It was imprinted in their genes, weaved into the fabric of their very being that all they ever wanted to do was to follow and to obey. She needed to learn to respect that.

Anivia sighed. Why would the Emperor create ten thousand beacons who did not know how to say no? This was doubly confusing considering that the Custodes were not supposed to be soldiers. They were supposed to be guardians of humanity. How could a guardian be effective if all he did was obey?

Valoris observed her carefully. He was not going to ask it at first, but then he remembered what she had said to him that night. I will always answer your call, she had told him. Perhaps he needed to learn to make that call, just as Anivia was trying to learn to respect his ways.

“My lord,” his voice was so low it might’ve been a whisper. “Are you disappointed?”

“At you? No.” Anivia answered without thinking, “at myself? A little bit. I should have said no when the Emperor offered to give me the Custodes.” Why did she say yes again?

She was mostly thinking out loud at this point, so it took her a few seconds to realize what she had just said. She immediately looked up at Valoris only to find that he was...smiling?

It was not exactly a smile. Not in the way that anyone else smiled. Not even in the way that Valerian or Caslev smiled. But he seemed content. As content as he had ever been. Almost happy.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “We’re yours now,” he said. It was more than a statement of facts. It was a declaration of triumph.

Ah, this was why.

He would have been proud if he had pride. He would have been pleased with himself if he had ego. As it was, all he did was to note this to himself: he had succeeded. Just like Valdor.

Chapter Text

“I certainly did not expect that I’d one day have this conversation with you when you asked me to be your Regent,” sighed Anivia.

They were in Guilliman’s study, which was only slightly larger than Anivia’s. It looked more cramped than hers because the furniture was all primarch-sized.

Guilliman sat in an armchair. His resurrection on Iax seemed to have cleansed his body of Fulgrim’s poison, and so he no longer had to rely on the Armour of Fate for survival. The scar remained and occasionally ached. He preferred it that way. He also kept the Armour of Fate as his war gear, but he was glad to be able to have the choice of getting rid of it should he wish to.

“Not my Regent,” Guilliman clarified, “the Imperium’s Regent.”

“Sure,” Anivia shrugged, “what’s the difference.”

“Very big difference,” Guilliman said. Anivia looked up to find that he was serious. She frowned.

“You can’t seriously think that He was accusing you of usurping Him, can you?” Anivia put down the cup of tea she was drinking and observed Guilliman carefully.

“I—” Guilliman began to speak but could not finish. He looked into the distance, perhaps lost in memory, perhaps only to avoid her gaze.

“Look, I’m sure there is one interpretation of what He meant that would be consistent with some past deed of yours, but you can’t think that way.” Anivia said patiently. “When I talked to Him, He called me a liar. I’m pretty sure I have never lied to Him because I have never said anything to Him at all, truthfully or falsely. Is it possible that I will lie in the future and that’s what He sees? Sure. But I can’t be held accountable for something I haven’t done.”

Guilliman stared at her. It was almost like he needed to think very hard to understand her words.

“My point is that sometimes rage is not meant to be understood,” Anivia looked at him straight in the eye. “You have done enough for the Imperium. I don’t care if you have made mistakes in the past—you have done enough to redeem them. I don’t care if you were made for this purpose. You should not be expected to understand His rage. If you think I’ve done a good-enough job, you need to remember that you were the one who chose me. The Emperor simply agreed with you.”

Guilliman continued to stare. No one, not even Konor Guilliman or Tarasha Euten, had said anything like this to him before.

Anivia sighed again and drank more tea, “but I should not be sloppy. Sure, the Imperium’s Regent.”

She was ready to move on to the actual topic of this conversation, but Guilliman was not.

He studied her for a few seconds and asked, “last night you said that, now that you wouldn’t die, you couldn’t rule either. What do you mean by that?”

Anivia thought about it for some time and realized that what she had just said to Guilliman might have been mistaken.

“I see your point. You are right.” Anivia conceded, “I can afford to be arrogant because I am intentionally limiting my own power to make sure that there will always be people who can stop me. That path is closed to you, and therefore you must scrutinize yourself unrelentingly. I apologize. I was thinking about it too naively.”

Guilliman finally smiled. “Nevertheless, I appreciate what you have said about me,” he said softly, “especially your reminding me that I chose you. As long as I am still proud of what you are doing, I shall not consider myself entirely in the failing.”

His pale blue eyes glittered in the warm afternoon lumen. Anivia blushed and looked away.

She cleared her throat, trying to focus on the task at hand, “I wanted to confer with you about the Emperor’s rage.”

“I know,” Guilliman’s gaze lingered on her face a while longer, then he refocused himself. “I have felt his rage when I conversed with Him in the throne room, shortly after my first return to Terra. Captain-General Valoris was with me in the throne room, but he did not hear Him speak like I did. In fact, Valoris’s account of what happened was entirely different from my own recollection, though my own memory keeps changing whenever I revisit it.”

Anivia nodded, “my theory is that His presence on Terra is an unstable cacophony of shards, forcibly held together by the Golden Throne. When I traveled on the path of darkness, I was able to visit each shard more or less independently of the others, and so they were more internally coherent. Unfortunately, this also means that I can’t reason with the ones that are beyond reason.”

Guilliman thought for a moment and said, “do you think there is more than one shard that can reason?”

“Possibly,” said Anivia, “I’m still not convinced that I can’t reason with His anger. I just haven’t found a way yet.”

“Are you going to try again?” He asked.

That was a good question. The thought of it alone made Anivia’s chest ache.

“I will have to, at some point. I hope that point is not soon.” She said honestly.

They fell silent for a while. Guilliman’s expression darkened, like a storm of heavy clouds was descending upon him.

“If He truly ascends…” he trailed off.

Anivia studied him over her tea. “Are you worried about yourself being dragged into godhood alongside Him? Because you are His champion?”

Guilliman let out a grim smile, “it’s quite a selfish worry, isn’t it? If godhood is the only way to save humanity, then that will have to be my destiny.”

Anivia chewed on his words for a little bit, then offered in an even tone, “it is my understanding that me being an anchor is supposed to prevent that.”

But of course, the Emperor might not have been telling the truth. He had lied to His tools before. But Guilliman was right. They didn’t have a choice.

See, all else being equal, having a choice is always better than not having one. Guilliman was on the same page as Anivia, unlike the Custodes.

“We need more information,” concluded Guilliman. “I will dispatch a message to summon Chief Librarian Varro Tigurius of the Ultramarines to meet us on Macragge for council.”

Anivia nodded, “I would also like to meet one of the living saints, preferably Saint Celestine, but it is better for her to come to me rather than for me to seek her out.”

“There is also Aldrik Voldus, the Chief Librarian of the Grey Knights,” said Guilliman. “He has participated in the Crusade but has left for his own mission shortly before I departed for Terra to fetch you.”

“He knows where to find me,” Anivia said neutrally. “Let’s see what kind of delegate they plan to send me first.”

Guilliman observed her for a moment and stated, “you’ve grown wary of the Grey Knights. What changed?”

As much as Anivia was capable of understanding Guilliman, his ability to read her had always been tenfold greater. There was no hiding anything from him. Anivia sighed.

“They trust me too much,” she explained. This was why she had wished for Guilliman to be present for the meeting with the Grey Knights. She wanted him to see it for himself, and she didn’t think vid-recording would go unnoticed by the Grey Knights. “Varn was willing to cede grounds even when I intentionally provoked him. And even then, he was willing to leave me with just a delegate. They know something we don’t. That worries me.”

Guilliman understood the distaste of not knowing something that others knew, but he was not worried like Anivia seemed to be. Of all the mysterious trust that ought to arouse suspicion, that of the Grey Knights’ was perhaps the least unwelcome.

Nevertheless, Guilliman did not wish to challenge Anivia’s instinct. He merely asked, “what’s your read on Dragory?”

“I still trust him, though probably not for the reason he thinks,” a faint smile appeared in Anivia’s silver eyes. “He knows why you sent Codicier Maxim to me.”

“Good,” said Guilliman. “Valoris also trusts him, and that’s good enough for me.”

Anivia gave him a glance of surprise. Guilliman’s trust of the Custodes in general and of Valoris in particular had always surprised Anivia. She was pretty sure that none of them returned the sentiment, even now.

Guilliman noted her surprise but did not comment on it. Instead, he brought up another difficult topic.

“There is another source of information open to us.” The way he framed this sentence made Anivia raise her eyebrows. Guilliman did not appear uncertain, but he was choosing his words with intention. Anivia had a guess of where this was going, but she let him speak.

“I know that there is much discontent surrounding my past, and likely future, collaboration with the Ynnari,” Guilliman said slowly. “I do not take pride in having to rely on xenos for information. I do not trust them. But I see the practical necessity.”

Was he justifying himself to Anivia?

His caution made her cautious too, although, truth be told, Anivia had never spent much thought on xenos, and so didn't actually know what she was supposed to be cautious about. She had never seen one either in living or in vid-feeds. She had not attended any of the numerous scholum lectures where the teachers instilled hatred of the xenos in their pupils. She was not fond of xenos, of course, but she did not have the instinctive hatred that was written into the gene-code of the Astartes.

“I trust your assessment,” she said simply. “Do you plan to summon them for council?”

Her calm response seemed to have taken Guilliman by surprise. He blinked once, remembering that he was not talking to a genetically engineered superhuman but to someone whose thinking was entirely her own.

“Not now, and likely not for some time,” he said. “I wish to tell you this now so that, when the time comes, you do not think that I mean to blindside you.”

Anivia smiled but said nothing.

Guilliman instantly understood her smile and he blushed a little. “I am trying to learn from your ways,” he said in a low voice, “no secrecy between allies.”

Chapter Text

The rest of the journey was uneventful.

Some time before they landed on Macragge, Sulachana had presented her plan to Anivia, or at least what was supposed to be her plan. Anivia had given her as much support as was possible, mostly by freeing up Areios and Teka from their normal duties, but had not otherwise checked in.

“Quite impressive,” Anivia put away the dataslate and smiled from her desk.

“Really?” Sulachana asked suspiciously, “it was not nearly systematic enough to be useful.” In fact, she had considered this endeavor an absolute failure.

Failure already stung. The least she wanted now was her lord all of a sudden deciding that her pride needed to be cradled.

“Really,” said Anivia honestly. “If you had presented me with a complete plan, I would’ve been worried.”

Then she got up from her chair and walked up to the map of Ultramar taking up the entire space of one of the walls of her study.

“From the surface, Ultramar faces many challenges. Recovering from the Plague Wars, supplying the Indomitus Crusade, quelling insurrections and cultist activities, you name it. But none of them is the real issue. It is not obvious, but Ultramar in fact has enough resources to deal with all of these obstacles. Why do they persist, then? That’s the real question.

“The core of the conflict in Ultramar is this: most of the 500 worlds of Ultramar have been ruled by mortal governors for 10 thousand years. It was by Lord Guilliman’s decree that they did so. Now, once again by his decree, Ultramar is taken from their hands and given to space marines. This is the problem. It is always easier to give than to take back.

“Can space marines rule effectively? We don’t actually know. Whatever precedence there might’ve been has been lost to history. Perhaps they are no better than the human governors... It would certainly be convenient if that's the case. This is why Ultramar has not been able to realize its actual potential since its reconsolidation. To be completely honest, between the primaris marine and the two Terran lords, I didn’t think you’d catch this point so soon.”

Areios blushed a little. He was not the one who caught the issue.

Anivia knew it had to be Sulachana and so gave her another smile. Then she continued, “the most natural way to tackle this issue is to leverage the fact that I am a human with authority. To do so effectively, I will have to align myself completely with Lord Guilliman, who will conveniently be absent while I rule, thus showing these governors another path forward. However, this goes against my existing plan with the Ecclesiarchy, which hinges on highlighting my independence from the Lord Commander. You would only know this after seeing how I dealt with the Sisters of the Void. I can see the way you adjusted your plan.

“In cases like these, it’s probably easier to start over from scratch than to try to salvage your original frame, but you’ll develop your own strategy soon enough.” Anivia said, “what I’m most glad to see is that you are willing to present this incomplete plan to me because you understand that efforts should not be thrown away in vain. If you had chosen to protect your pride by pretending that none of this happened, I would’ve been truly disappointed.”

Sulachana looked at her lord. She was no longer that impetuous youth who dared to ask a question in front of the primarch, but she would never grow to be calm in the face of her lord’s praise.

However, what Anivia said next was much harder to swallow.

“I’m glad that you did this, Sulachana,” said Anivia. “Now I can send you away with confidence.”

Sulachana’s smile disappeared, “what do you mean, my lord?”

Anivia sighed. She walked to Sulachana and gave her a gentle hug. The adjutant was stunned.

“You are a leader, Sulachana.” Anivia said, “I have enough assistants as it is, but the Imperium needs leaders.”

To be perfectly honest, Sulachana had suspected that something like this would happen. She just didn’t expect it to be this soon.

“I was going to keep you with me on Ultramar for a few more years but the situation has changed,” continued Anivia, seemingly reading her mind. “Before you get all sentimental, though, let me first clarify my proposal. My plan is to have you return to Terra and serve as my representative there. You will then train up an adjutant of your own to send my way. I will keep an eye out here, too. The goal is to have two or three of you that rotate between Terra and Ultramar. If all goes well, I will get to see you again.”

It was a bold move, but Sulachana understood the reasoning. Not only would this plan increase political coherence between the two major political centers of the Imperium, but it also prevented rulers from losing touch with reality by forcing them to travel through two Segmentums every so often. The biggest drawback was the security risk associated with warp travel, but this was mitigated by having multiple of them active at once. Besides, with the ongoing Crusade, it wouldn’t be difficult to find appropriate military fleets to travel with.

As she made these calculations, Sulachana suddenly realized that her lord was right. She was ready. She could do this.

She looked up to meet Anivia’s eyes with determination.

“Good,” Anivia said, “Captain-General Valoris will accompany you on this journey and keep you safe.”

Like a bomb dropped onto a dessert.

Sulachana blinked. Then she blinked again. Then she tried to convey to her lord with her eyes: you can’t do this to me Anivia!

Everyone in the room ceased breathing. Except, of course, the instigator, whose amusement was the only thing that found life in this silence.

And it was a long, deafening silence.

Everyone stood perfectly still. Not a piece of fabric, not a single hair dared to move.

Standing still was a lot easier for the space marines than it was for mortals. Sulachana and Nora exchanged horrid glances, and Teka began a silent prayer to the Emperor.

Finally, when Sulachana thought she was just gonna die here, he spoke.

“Do I have to ask, my lord?” He spoke slowly and not in obvious anger.

“No.” It took Anivia great effort to hold back her smile, “I was just curious whether you would.”

He stared at her with an unwavering gaze. He did not blink.

“You will return to Terra and update the Custodes. When you come back, you can bring some with you.” Anivia said in a tone that was as if she was simply asking him to fetch a glass of water from the next room.

“I can dispatch a messenger,” said Valoris.

“And yet you have not,” Anivia finally smiled, “because you know that you ought to do it in person.”

That was true. If Valoris had genuinely thought that a messenger would suffice, Colquan would have departed already.

Valoris continued to stare. Anivia might not have understood many aspects of his being, but she knew a good leader when she saw one.

“That’s all. Go get ready.” Anivia waved them all away casually and returned to her armchair, “I have been told that we have only a few more days until arrival.”

Chapter Text

Perhaps Anivia ought to talk to Guilliman at some point about his habit of congregating everyone in one place all at once so that he could address them all together. It might have worked for war councils, but it didn’t work for politics.

There was a reason that there were only twelve High Lords and that they barely met once a year.

When Anivia arrived on Macragge, she arrived directly to the center of a parade. She walked out of the carrier followed by the Regent’s Chosen, only to discover that an entire formation of space marines had preceded her and that an entire formation of Custodes was to follow.

Guilliman had already disembarked and was standing several primarch-steps away, waiting to receive her.

It was a sunny day. The cyber cherubs flew around joyously. “We welcome the Imperial Regent to Ultramar! The Hand of the Emperor!” They sang.

That was a calculated slogan, of course. Although Anivia was not planning to keep her identity a secret, she would prefer that low-ranking officers saw her only as a title. At least in the beginning.

It seemed as if every soul from Macragge was here—no, not just from Macragge. Standing in front of the sea of soldiers, bureaucrats, and mechanical priests, were five space marines with heavily embellished armours. Two of them were taller than the rest—primaris marines. One of them had a bionic eye.

“Lord Regent, allow me the honour of introducing the rulers of Ultramar to you.” Guilliman’s voice boomed even without the help of a vox caster. “Standing before you are Marneus Calgar, Lord Defender of Greater Ultramar; Severus Agemman, Regent of Ultramar and Tetrarch of Konor; Portan, Tetrarch of Andermung; Balthus, Tetrarch of Protos; and Decimus Felix, Tetrarch of Vespator.”

All five space marines bowed to Anivia. She lowered her head slightly in acknowledgement, “Lord Defender, Lord Regent, Tetrarchs.”

All five space marines bore perfectly stoic expressions. If they felt any discomfort bowing to a baseline human, they hid it well.

“And this is the Imperial Regent, Lord Anivia Lux Syrren,” Guilliman continued. “Accompanying her is Captain-General Trajann Valoris of the Adeptus Custodes.”

Even Anivia could hear the gasping sound of the Militarum officers standing behind the space marines. Even Calgar looked momentarily stunned.

“My honour, Captain-General,” Calgar said.

He had never met the Captain-General of the Custodes in person, but he knew that Valoris had hand-picked Colquan to accompany Guilliman, and he knew what Colquan was like.

“Lord Defender.” To Calgar’s surprise, Valoris merely called out his title in courtesy and said nothing more. In fact, the cursory glance his cold, grey eyes had spared all the Tetrarchs had also appeared merely routine, as if he couldn’t care less who any of these people were. Instead, his gaze fixed on the back of the Lord Regent in a calm yet focused way. If Calgar didn’t witness it himself, he would never believe it.

“We are ready to take council,” said Calgar. “Does the Lord Regent wish to take refreshments first?”

The honest answer was yes, but Anivia declined.

“Let us meet now,” she said, “and perhaps we can get to dinner on time.”

Much to Anivia’s relief, Guilliman did not actually summon all the representatives of the 500 worlds.

Other than the Tetrarchs and their aids, two dozen mortal governors were present. Some of them for their loyalty; others for the lack thereof.

Guilliman sat at the head of chamber in a massive throne that looked like it was taken from a museum. It probably was. Now that Macragge was governed by more space marines than mortals, Anivia didn’t think making new furniture would’ve been on any of their to-do lists.

Valoris sat at Guilliman’s left hand, followed by Colquan. Anivia sat at his right, followed by Calgar, then Agemman. She had two dataslates in front of her, in addition to a stack of parchments. Her three adjutants stood behind her, ready to deliver any piece of report she might need during the meeting.

Although not all bureaucrats were present, a surprising number of non-bureaucrats were. This included not only Chapter Masters and Comissars, but also Rogue Traders, historitors, and agents of the Inquisition. Anivia did not know if Varn’s delegate was among them. She did not care.

It looked like Guilliman was being truthful when he told her that the meeting was to discuss Crusade logistics.

“The Lord Regent of the Imperium will reside in Ultramar while I am away to Imperium Nihilus,” announced the Lord Commander. “She is to take command of the Officio Logisticarum and oversee the Crusade resupply in its entirety. I expect all of you to aid her to your best abilities.”

More than a few heads turned to exchange glances. Military logistics didn’t seem like the sort of thing that fell under the Regent’s purview. But then again, there had not been an Imperial Regent for ten thousand years. Nobody was in a position to say what the scope of the Regent’s authority truly was—except, perhaps, the two individuals already present in this room. One in blue and one in gold, they both seemed to have already made up their minds.

“I want to remind everyone that Ultramar remains a part of the Imperium,” continued the primarch, “and thus falls under the Lord Regent’s authority.”

The room stirred. Just two years ago, Guilliman had put a large portion of human governors under the command of Astartes. That had gone as well as it sounded. Now he planned to add the Regent to the mix.

Many of them expected Guilliman to say more. To justify himself, perhaps. At least he ought to quell their expressions of discontent by reasserting his determination. At least he ought to do this for the Regent’s sake, but he did not. Instead, he leaned back in his throne and let the Regent take over.

“The supply of the Indomitus Crusade is intricately linked to the supply of defense forces within Ultramar,” the Regent said unceremoniously. “I understand that much of the Scourge Stars in the northern territory is currently occupied by the forces of Chaos. Reclaiming those planets will be the priority for Ultramar. Tetrarch Agemman will naturally lead the forces on that front. Consequently, the supply center for the Ultramar wars will be located in the eastern marches and overseen by Tetrarch Felix. In the meantime, Tetrarch Portan will see to the first wave of supply for the Crusade, while Tetrarch Balthus will reorganize his realm to be ready for the second wave.”

Those were the first words most of them in that meeting hall had ever heard her say. There was no greeting, no assertion of her position, no justification of her existence. As calm as if she was merely ordering her house servants around, the Regent had issued orders to the highest ranking lords of Ultramar, barring the primarch himself.

Even the space marines needed a few seconds to comprehend what just happened. Many of them instinctively looked at their lords for guidance. The Tetrarchs remained silent.

Even Calgar was caught off guard by the speed with which this meeting had progressed. He couldn’t stop himself from asking: “and what ought to be my role, Lord Regent?”

The Regent looked at him with a hint of surprise, “you are the Lord Defender of Ultramar, Lord Calgar. I assume your role is to defend Ultramar.”

If she had not just ordered the Tetrarchs around like a circus, Calgar would have been offended. As it was, he was too dumbfounded to take offense. He could not decide whether it was entirely Guilliman’s plotting or if she was that oblivious.

Even more surprisingly, the Regent took herself to have properly addressed his concern and continued, “Ultramar commands hundreds of worlds. They are to be divided into three tithe categories: minor worlds will follow the standard Imperium tithe rules, which have been changed under my regency. The Administratum will see to their readjustments. Protector worlds will dedicate their resources primarily to the supply of defense forces within Ultramar. Space marine homeworlds will all be classified as protector worlds even if the chapters are dedicated to the Crusade. Same goes for the Tetrarchs’ worlds. Finally, specialty worlds will dedicate their resources to supplying the Crusade. Not all of them will be forge worlds, but they will specialize in the same way. The Tetrarchs will see to the classification and, later, re-classification of worlds. I want every protector world and specialty world to send a representative to my council.”

More murmurs erupted. Throughout the entire history of the Imperium, there had been one thing that was the most sacred rule above all: the Imperial tithe. Any other rule might be bent or circumvented under special circumstances, but not the tithe. The most outrageously heretical governor could go undetected for decades if his tithe was paid properly, while the most faithful servant of the God-Emperor could be executed for wasting tithe resources on her dying citizenry. Nobody, not even the Inquisition, had ever touched the rules of the tithe.

But then again, if anyone had the authority to modify the tithe rules, it was this person who was now doing it. She was the Imperial Regent. Before that, she was the Master of the Administratum and a High Lord of Terra. Her right to rule was granted by the Emperor. She spoke on His behalf—and had been for two decades.

She had not verbally asserted her authority, yet everyone in the meeting hall had slowly gotten to the same conclusion by themselves.

The Regent had the authority to rule, and she was going to use it.

Chapter Text

“So, which one of the 84 meeting requests I’ve just received would you like to answer first?” As soon as the door of Anivia’s new office closed behind them, Nora asked with gentle amusement. Of all the assistants Anivia had voluntarily chosen, Nora was the most serious with her lord, but Sulachana and Teka had finally begun to rub off on her.

“Lord Calgar’s, of course,” said Anivia.

Nora double-checked the 84 messages she had received within 5 minutes upon the conclusion of the meeting as well as the new stream of messages that had kept on coming in since. “Lord Calgar has not made a meeting request yet, my lord,” she said. “Would you like me to check if he is meeting with Lord Guilliman?”

“No,” said Anivia airily, “just send him a request of our own.”

“Isn’t that a bit too harsh, my lord?” asked Teka.

“Do you already sympathize with him?” Anivia looked at him with an amused expression, “it looks like having you read all 28 volumes of his service record has worked wonders. It’s too bad that this strategy does not scale—most people cannot read nearly as fast as you can, or nearly as carefully.”

Teka blushed a little, “I don’t think I’m ready to defend him in front of you yet though, if that’s your angle, my lord.”

That was an understatement. Teka didn’t think he was ever going to be ready to defend anyone in front of Anivia. As much as he freely bantered with his lord, he never did have Sulachana’s ability to speak up in a substantive way. Although Sulachana had not yet left Ultramar, Teka had already begun to feel her absence.

“I’m not going to ask that of you,” Anivia smiled as she waved for Nora to send the request, “you have enough talents as it is. Lord Guilliman assured me that Lord Calgar has what it takes to swallow his pride and I decide to trust him on this.”

Fair enough, Teka thought. He didn’t actually have reasons to think that Calgar could not take it. He merely, as Anivia had accurately observed, sympathized with him.

Calgar was not meeting with Guilliman. In fact, he was not doing much of anything useful. He was thinking, trying to get a read on the Regent by revisiting his photographic memory of the meeting. He was deciding whether he should ask to see her and what he should say. Did his gene-father expect him to be obedient? To stonewall? To be vigilant? Should he confer with Guilliman first? Should he confer with the Tetrarchs? He didn’t know. And he didn’t know how he would find out.

Then the summon came, and he knew he had missed his chance.

He had to go.

The Regent’s office was in one of the newer wings of the Fortress of Hera and was thus designed for space marines. It would be big even as a meeting room of superhumans. Now with human-sized furniture, it appeared enormous.

Not all of the Regent’s retinue were present. Most noticeably, neither of the Custodians was there. Calgar wondered if the Regent deliberately sent them away for his own comfort. Although he had not had the chance to confer with Guilliman this time round, the primarch had told him of the then Master of the Administratum when they were fighting the Plague Wars. As a seasoned administrator in his own right, Calgar had glimpsed the Regent’s style through the logistical reports Guilliman had shared with him. He knew that he ought not to underestimate her, but he yet didn’t know by how much.

“Lord Defender,” the Regent greeted him without standing up from her chair and Calgar was more disoriented than he should be. Until recently, no one in the entire Imperium could greet him this casually. And until today, the only person who could greet Calgar without standing up was his gene-sire.

“Lord Regent,” Calgar forced his voice to be professional yet not stern. He didn’t know why the Regent had summoned him. Was it to make sure his pride wasn’t wounded by her remark in the meeting? Was it to check that he was obedient?

“I understand that you have ruled as Chapter Master of the Ultramarines and that you were the first to cross the Rubicon Primaris, a few years ago.” The Regent said in an even tone. She did not commend Calgar for his bravery like everyone else did or, throne forbid, congratulate him for his survival. Calgar was relieved.

“In the normal run of things, I prefer to leave myself out of the internal workings of the Astartes,” the Regent continued. “However, since Lord Guilliman intends to employ Astartes in civil matters, you fall under my purview. Accordingly, I wish to draw upon your expertise. Tell me honestly, Chapter Master, what frustrates you the most about the mortal governors on Ultramar?”

Calgar opened his mouth reflexively but didn’t know what to say. It was not a matter of honesty; he was genuinely drawing a blank. Nobody had ever asked this question before. Not even in private jest was anything like this ever raised, though it wasn’t like they jested much.

His mind raced on multiple tracks simultaneously, trying to theorize the intention behind her question as well as to search for an answer. He drew blanks on all fronts.

His reaction seemed to have amused the Regent. She leaned back in her seat and said, “you don’t have to answer immediately, but I would appreciate if you could share your thoughts with me before duty calls you elsewhere.”

“May I inquire as to what your intention is, Lord Regent?” Calgar asked guardedly.

The Regent seemed somewhat impressed by how fast he had recovered. Then, she gave a surprisingly straight and detailed answer, “to gather information, mostly. I am not here to make your job easier, Lord Defender, but I will try not to make it harder. I need to learn how the people and the warriors of Ultramar work, and how they fail to work, so I can deploy my own efforts more effectively.”

The strategy was sound, admitted Calgar. He would’ve done the same on the battlefield without second thought, yet he had somehow never thought to do it in the civil court in the same way.

That had already been more explanation than Calgar was expecting, but the Regent continued, “I suppose I should give you some information of my dealings here as I take residence in your realm. You may already know that I have summoned Chief Librarian Varro Tigurius for counsel, the nature of which I cannot disclose. There will likely be counsels of similar kind in the future, including with members of His Most Holy Inquisition. I grant you the liberty of auditing my council at any point for security reasons.”

That was quite generous. It was what Calgar would’ve thought proper, if not out of respect, at least out of caution, but he had grown to be accustomed to the tendency for humanity to put ego above both. The Regent seemed to be free of this vice, at least.

“My other task,” continued the Regent, “is to institute a certain reform of the Ecclesiarchy. I trust that you are not interested in finding out more. And rest assured, I do not require your aid in this endeavor.”

Calgar tried not to look relieved.

“I appreciate this information, Lord Regent,” Calgar said truthfully. “But what does it have to do with your question to me?”

“Oh, nothing, I thought we had concluded that thread.” She didn’t smile exactly, but she was clearly amused. That irritated Calgar.

“Was that such a surprising question to ask, Chapter Master?” She said, almost casually, “I am the Imperial Regent, put in charge of the Imperial machine. I need to know how its gears grind.”

She had been switching back and forth between his titles based on what she was asking of him. A common diplomatic tactic, making it all the more noticeable that she herself had only one title on offer.

“Understood, Lord Regent. I will compile a report for you within the week,” Calgar said, understanding that he was unlikely to get anything else out of the Regent.

“Thank you,” was all she said. Then, he was dismissed.

Chapter Text

Because she had already planned out the first stages of everything she was going to do, Anivia spent almost every waking moment on Macragge in meetings.

She was accustomed to meetings, of course, but never with this intensity. Anivia’s dedication to efficiency meant that she went into every meeting prepared, and sometimes that took time. However, since she had done all of the preparation during her trip here, there was nothing else to do except to execute her own plans.

Intense social stimulation drained Anivia in a way she had never experienced before. She barely spoke or smiled outside these meetings, and she had completely offloaded her life sustenance onto her assistants.

She didn’t know when she was supposed to eat, bathe, or sleep. Her adjutants were also busy: Teka was in charge of taking notes on all meetings and fact-checking when necessary. Nora arranged all the meetings. Sulachana needed to learn as much about Ultramar as she could before her departure.

The task of keeping their lord alive thus fell upon Dragory.

Dragory undertook this task with a strange mixture of intellectual curiosity and amusement. He was an Astartes who fought daemons for a living. The idea of a healthy diet and regular sleep schedule was entirely foreign to him. So he treated it like a mission and took detailed notes.

Anivia might have lost track of eating, drinking, or sleeping, but she did not lose track of the more important things.

It was late at night. She stood in front of the door for a solid ten minutes before remembering that it was not the automatic door upon Macragge’s Honour that would scan her biometrics and open automatically. She tried the knob. To her surprise, it was not locked.

The room was empty, or course, or else she wouldn’t have to stand in the hallway for that long. But it was not dark. Lumens glowed a soft orange, an unusual colour. Not bright enough for ordinary use, but perfect for tired eyes.

On the table was a small stasis box. Anivia unlocked it with her fingerprint. Inside it was...a cup of hot chocolate.

She chuckled quietly to herself, took a seat on the armchair, and sipped her drink. His black cloak was hanging off the armrest. She wrapped it around her like a blanket.

Valoris stopped by the door and listened.

Half of him wanted her to be back in her own chamber, resting like she should, oblivious to his wishes like she should. The other half ached with the desire to see her. He despised himself for both halves.

The Fortress of Hera was never quiet. Not even in this hour. Servitors and space marines patrolled the halls above and below. Even if he focused, there was no hope of separating one set of breathing above all others.

It was a silly exercise. He should just open the door and find out. And yet...

What if the room was empty?

What if the room was not empty?

Both thoughts were unbearable to him. It did not make any sense.

As soon as he opened the door, he knew.

The smell of sweet chocolate filled the room. He was rather surprised that he didn’t catch it in the hallway just now.

Valoris stepped through the door and closed it behind him.

There was no greeting. Anivia had fallen asleep in his armchair. The chair was so big that she was able to use the base as a small bed and curl up on it, her body wrapped in his cloak.

Valoris stood by the door and took a deep, trembling breath. It did not help.

With absolute silence, he moved to the chair and knelt down. He observed her closely.

Anivia looked tired. Not physically, but mentally. She slept with a faint frown and her hands held his cloak tightly. Valoris remembered the time shortly after their acquaintance, when he first saw her issuing commands to the space marines. He remembered his confusion at her exhaustion afterward. He still didn’t really understand it now, but he had learned to predict it. He also learned that hot beverages seemed to help.

He should just let her sleep. He could just watch her sleep. This way, both halves of him would be satisfied.

Just as Valoris thought he had found the best of both worlds, Anivia yawned. Then, she stretched, rolled over, and fell off the chair.

How was any of this possible?

Valoris immediately caught her, of course. Anivia was now entirely wrapped around in the cloak and constricted by it. That did not seem to bother her—yet another occurrence that Valoris couldn’t comprehend.

“You’re back,” she mumbled. “Is everything in order?”

“Yes,” he freed her from the cloak and helped her sit up. Then he said quietly, “you should not have come.”

Anivia chuckled. She rubbed her eyes and yawned again, “you can’t seriously think that I’ll just let you go like that, can you?”

Valors didn’t respond. He was used to coming and going unnoticed. That had been how the Adeptus Custodes operated for the past ten thousand years, and while there were many things he planned to change about their tradition, this was not one of them.

“I’m sending Areios with Sulachana. I think they get along, which will be a great help to her.” Tiredness had made Anivia scatterbrained, and so she babbled. “I prepared a letter for you. Could you deliver it to Fadix? It just says do not cross the Lux on it, to remind him not to mess with Sulachana.”

Valoris nodded. He didn’t need any of this information, but he could see that Anivia didn’t have the brain power to filter what she was saying, so he let her babble.

After a while, her voice trailed off, as her mind caught up to what was happening.

“Do you miss Terra, my lord?” He asked softly.

Although so much seemed to have happened, she had been away from Terra for less than a year. But then again, it was the first time she had left the Sol System at all.

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I have never been religious before, and now I can’t be. And now I’m as far away from Terra’s light as I could, and you will be gone...”

She sighed, “I judged Roboute too harshly. This is really difficult.”

Valoris did not have anything to offer. The Custodes had never been leaders in their own right. Not even the Captain-General was a leader in the way that leadership worked in other orders. In the Indomitus Crusade, Guilliman primarily utilized the Custodes as torchbearers, which was more appropriate than he perhaps had intended. All they ever did was bearing someone else’s light. All they ever knew was to follow. He had nothing to offer her.

But he also knew that Anivia didn’t need him to offer anything. She simply had no one else to turn to.

She would never talk to Guilliman about these things. The least she could do is to not seek reassurance from him. Likewise, she could not afford anything less than a show of absolute determination in front of those who depended on her light, which had gradually became just about everyone nowadays.

To be fair, Valoris also depended on her light, but he also knew darkness like no one else. At this moment, he felt that all those thousands of years where he walked alone in the dark had paid off.

Anivia reached out to Valoris and held him in an embrace.

“I will be fine,” she said, more to herself than to him. “I will at least be fine until your return.”

He could ask for no more than that.

Chapter Text

Anivia made a mistake.

She didn’t make mistakes often, so when she did, she usually felt it.

It was a long story, involving the following elements: Sulachana, Valoris, and Areios had left. Guilliman was busy preparing for the second phase of the crusade and had been for several weeks. Nora had gone to greet some important visitor or other. Teka was buried in reports as usual. Dragory was attending some business with the Inquisition. By Valoris’s command, Anivia was to have at least three guards with her at all time, unless one of those guards was Caslev, in which case two would suffice. This meant that Anivia almost always had Caslev with her.

What this also meant was that Anivia received the first version of the story as soon as the other Custodes did. It had come from Shield-Captain Atal Tyvar, who had been dispatched on a torchbearer to reinforce the Brazen Drakes Chapter with primaris space marines. Upon arriving at the Chapter’s homeworld, Tyvar discovered that the Chapter had been afflicted with some sort of psychic awakening, which he had deemed heretical. Tyvar then decided that the entire Chapter of the Brazen Drakes was traitorous, including the newly arrived, not-yet-inducted primaris reinforcements. He killed as many of them as he could and drove the rest into the Eye of Terror.

At least he was honest. Despite the fact that he had not slept or meditated for months and thus had not received the Emperor’s prophecy, he accepted Anivia’s presence on authority of Colquan. He answered all of Colquan’s questions in detail, including his honest assessment that at least half of the Brazen Drakes were probably loyal.

“Even if they were loyal then, their heretical gene-seed would’ve manifested itself sooner or later,” he said matter-of-factly, “it is always better to be safe than sorry.”

Anivia stormed out of the room.

Caslev followed her, as did the primaris marine Exium, who had waited outside in the hall. It was raining on Macragge that day. Anivia had never seen rain before, but she soon discovered that the sound of it, or rather, the way it drowned out all other sounds, was calming to the mind.

And so she took a stroll in the rain, trying to cool her head.

The two superhumans in power armour followed her. Neither was bothered by the rain. Neither realized that their lord was making a mistake.

When Nora and her esteemed guest, Chief Librarian Varro Tigurius, turned up, Anivia had spent a solid hour in the rain, and had already began a fever.

Anivia spent the next few watches falling in and out of consciousness on a medicae bed. Dragory had tried his trick again but it had stopped working, possibly because of whatever the Emperor had done to her to make her immortal.

Teka was dumbfounded by what had happened and decided to compile a notebook, based on Dragory’s notes, on how to keep their lord alive, to be distributed to the Regent’s Chosen. Caslev and Exium had subjected themselves to a makeshift repentance ritual of reading every book on human physiology and illness they could find on Macragge. Tyvar was told to meditate on the Emperor’s will. Nora was tasked with running the Regent’s court with the help of Calgar.

Now, two First Borns and a Sister of the Chosen guarded Anivia outside the room while another group of two First Borns and a Sister patrolled the building. They switched every 3 watches.

Dragory thought this an overreaction—Anivia was not attacked, after all. The greatest threat to her safety had always been herself. But with the Chosen’s Captain gone for a mere few days, Dragory understood the impulse to do something, however futile it might be.

Throne, neither he nor Maxim had left her room in two days.

“I sense great anger,” observed the Chief Librarian of the Ultramarines.

“With no disrespect, Lord Tigurius,” said Donas Maxim calmly, “everyone in this room and outside is angry.”

Tigurius smiled, “and what angers you, my brother Codicier?”

Maxim had heard of the Chief Librarian’s habit of asking too many questions. It annoyed most other space marines, who did not appreciate being forced to philosophize when all they wanted was information. Maxim had a different kind of misgiving, however, one he did not realize until just now.

He was, of course, angry at Tyvar. He knew that Tyvar had nothing to do with Anivia’s decision to stand in the rain unprotected, and thus his anger was entirely irrational. Still, he couldn’t help but be angry at Tyvar and whatever news he might have brought with him. He was also angry at Colquan for no reason. And, of course, Caslev and Exium, though he himself would probably have made the same mistake if he were in their position.

It was all entirely irrational, but Maxim was not ashamed of it. He had formulated no practicals based on this irrationality, and emotions represented a token of his humanity. Nevertheless, he did not want Tigurius to find out.

Why would that matter? Maxim asked himself. He didn’t care if Guilliman found out about his irrational anger—throne, Guilliman himself was probably angry too. Why would it matter if Tigurius knew?

As soon as the question had formulated in his mind, he knew the answer.

Tigurius didn’t know their lord yet. He had not conversed with her, nor seen what she could do. He was probably skeptical of the new human Regent like almost everyone was. Now he must thought her weak, both physically and emotionally. If he knew how protective they were of her, that might add to the contempt.

Maxim could not stand the thought of anyone holding his lord in contempt.

And so he hid his anger and did not answer the Chief Librarian.

Exhaustion was all Anivia felt when she woke up.

It wasn’t just the physical exhaustion from the illness, though there was that too. She was mentally exhausted by the anger, which she had not had the chance to process because, well, she was unconscious. Anivia was not an overly emotional person and so was not accustomed to holding on to something like anger for as long as she did.

“My lord! How do you feel?” Dragory noticed her waking faster than her eyes refocused enough to notice him.

She felt awful, of course. He probably knew that.

“Where is Caslev and Exium?” She asked, her voice lower than a whisper.

“On educational repentance, of a sort,” Dragory replied.

“What about Shiled-Captain Tyvar?” She asked.

“Under the custody of Tribune Colquan,” said Dragory, “and you should rest my, my lord. I will inform the medicae team.”

He was right. If she had more energy to spare, she should’ve greeted the space marine with the tall staff, who was almost certainly Chief Librarian Varro Tigurius, but she did not have any strength left to speak. At least she asked the most important of her questions. Anivia drifted back into the darkness before she fully closed her eyes.

“I understand now,” said Tigurius softly.

Chapter Text

It took another day for Anivia to wake up again, this time for real.

In addition to the crew that was here when she woke last, two more superhumans were in the room. One in blue and one in gold, they seemed to have just been told to shut up, and were now trying to stare each other down in silence.

“This is a Custodes issue, and therefore none of your business,” whispered Tribune Colquan through gritted teeth, his voice colder than a blackstone.

“The matter has clearly interfered with the Lord Regent’s effectiveness on Macragge, and therefore it is my business,” replied Calgar with equal stern, “it is my duty to ensure the safety of the Regent while she is in Ultramar.”

Colquan seemed more offended by what Calgar said in that last sentence than he did when Calgar inquired after Custodian business. He almost shouted at him. But then he restrained himself and looked in the direction of the medicae bed, and discovered that Anivia was awake.

All anger evaporated from Colquan’s composure, replaced with something that almost looked like...nervousness?

“I apologize for this lapse of judgment on my part, Lord Calgar,” said Anivia weakly as Dragory helped her sit up from her bed, “I will update you on this matter personally, once I can afford some time to reflect on it. Before then, is there anything that urgently requires my attention at the moment?”

Calgar looked at the Regent. Because of Ultramar’s recent struggles with the Plague War, Calgar had seen a fair share of sick humans. Many despaired in the face of their mortality. Many grew more faithful than ever before. Some were as calm as the Regent was now.

It was not the Regent’s appearance that jumped out at Calgar—she was not dying, and she handled her illness in a, frankly speaking, unremarkable way.

It was what she said. It was the fact that, rather than seeking reassurance from any of those who had been guarding her day and night, she had addressed Calgar first. There was no mistaken the matter: she was defending Colquan in front of the outsiders. She was speaking to Calgar as Colquan’s lord.

“Nothing urgent,” said Calgar. “Your assistant Nora Felanx will be able to give you a full report once you are ready to receive it. Also, Lord Guilliman requests a status update from you.”

Anivia smiled at the way the space marine translated the concept of care. “Please tell him that I am well and that he should not devote any more attention to this matter.”

Calgar was not able to fully mask his surprise. He said nothing urgent because that was what Nora had said and nothing urgently affected Calgar, but he knew what the Regent’s task list was truly like. Nora had been quite open with him on that front. He fully expected Anivia to request assistance from Guilliman. In fact, Calgar had come here personally because of his anticipation of her request.

“I will,” was all he said.

He waited for the Regent to dismiss him. He could see that she was eager to take counsel with those of her own court, and he did not wish to fully cross the Custodes by forcibly inserting himself—he was ready to do it if necessary, but the Regent had kept that necessity in check.

She raised two fingers to press her temples and momentarily closed her eyes, trying to concentrate. After a few seconds, she looked up at him again.

“Thank you for the assistance you’ve given my in the past few days,” she said. “I would like to ask one more favour from you: could you check in with Tetrarch Balthus for me? I expect that he has already uncovered the plan for rebellion drafted by House Herodian. He probably doesn’t need your help to quench the treachery, but please tell him to prioritize keeping the Agri Worlds intact rather than the Forge Worlds in his conquest. I trust that you have access to Tetrarch Portan’s reports on the supply center, which should suffice for coordination purposes. Please keep the Inquisition updated. This will also find them something to do while I recover.”

Calgar blinked.

Theoretical: this was not a favour. It was something he was supposed to do on his own. The Regent had been guiding his hand by giving him the kind of information and perspective that he wouldn’t have otherwise sought out but were in fact necessary to see how the bigger picture could come together, by coating it under seemingly irrelevant errands he performed for her purely out of a sense of duty.

Theoretical: she could not have predicted her own illness.

Theoretical: if she didn’t suddenly fall ill, her guidance of him would have gone completely unnoticed. He would have developed the perspective of Ultramar as a coherent whole and the ability to turn its intricately related gears, thinking all the while that it was his own maturation as a ruler.

Theoretical: the Regent was not here to rule. She was here to teach.

Practical: he would do what she asked.

“As you command, Lord Regent,” said Calgar finally.

After the Lord Defender had left the room, Anivia finally turned her attention to the stranger.

“You must be Chief Librarian Tigurius,” she said, “apologies that you have to see me in this condition.”

“No apology needed, Lord Regent,” Tigurius bowed his head, “I am thankful for the opportunity to observe you work.”

Anivia raised her eyebrows. She didn’t think she had worked much since the Librarian’s arrival, but she didn’t want to inquire just now. There were more pressing matters.

“It’s good to hear that you are not bored,” Anivia said diplomatically, “I wish to take counsel with you, but it will have to be coordinated with Lord Guilliman, for he hopes to be there also. I imagine he has postponed this meeting out of concern for my health. I speculate that he has about two weeks’ worth of preparation left and he will probably call for this meeting right before he leaves. Until then, I have nothing else to ask of you.”

Tigurius looked at her for a moment. While she did use the word “speculate”, she clearly did not think it could be otherwise. Guilliman was, when he wasn’t trying to be otherwise in order to confuse his enemy, a predictable man, and Tigurius’s own prediction was pretty much the same as Anivia’s. Still, there was a peculiar sense of familiarity that slipped out from her tone that made Tigurius curious. She was comfortable with the primarch in a way that not even his sons were.

“I understand, Lord Regent,” said Tigurius, “in the meantime, is there anything else I can help you with?”

Now that was an idea. Despite what she had told Calgar to tell Guilliman, Anivia was short-staffed. Not in general, but in terms of people whose abilities and temperament she could trust. Tigurius was not yet in that category, but between a cursory look at his record she had done while still aboard Macragge’s Honour and Guilliman’s recommendation, he could help her.

“If you are willing, Chief Librarian, I could use some help,” said Anivia. “It is perhaps an unusual task for you. I have summoned representatives from a few Ecclesiarchy sects. They are not in direct opposition to each other but they are understandably wary. Since I won’t have time to meet with them for quite a few days, can you receive them for me and make sure they don’t get into fights?”

“No one dares to instigate a fight inside the Fortress of Hera,” observed Tigurius. His tone was calm, but Anivia understood the subtext: do not take me for a fool, he was saying to her, I know you want me to be more than a peacekeeper.

She smiled and said simply, “I know.”

Theoretical: she knew what he was asking and yet refused to give him an answer. The lack of an answer is the answer itself.

Theoretical: she was not taking him for a fool. Quite the contrary, she trusted his judgment enough to not want to cloud it with any priming.

Theoretical: she might be testing him. She might be testing the Ecclesiarchy. It was probably both.

Practical: he would do what she asked.

“As you command, Lord Regent,” the Chief Librarian of the Ultramarines decided to follow the lead of his Chapter Master, and bowed to the Regent.

Chapter Text

Even for a Custodian, Colquan’s ability to read the political current of his surroundings could be described as abysmal. Yet even he was able to sense that what Anivia had done was a sort of protection. Of the Custodes. Of him. Though he did not know from what, her gesture had a strange, calming effect on him.

Once the outsiders had left the room, Anivia’s posture relaxed. She drank some water Dragory had given her and adjusted the pillows so she could sit more comfortably.

“So, what did you do to Shield-Captain Tyvar?” Anivia asked finally.

“He is confined to the meditation chamber, awaiting your judgment, my lord.” Colquan replied. He didn’t know what Tyvar did that might have been wrong in his lord’s eyes and he didn’t especially care. As far as Colquan was concerned, Tyvar’s fate rested entirely in Anivia’s hand, as did every other Custodian's.

“And what does he think?” Anivia asked.

Colquan blinked blankly, “what do you mean?”

They stared at each other for a moment, and Anivia remembered that she was talking to a Custodian.

She sighed, “if you haven’t done so already, communicate Shield-Captain Tyvar’s pronouncement of the Brazen Drakes as Hereticus Diabolus Extremis to the Grey Knights alongside his recommended course of action. Then, place Shield-Captain Tyvar under my direct command. I want him to be with me for the next month or two.”

“As you command,” said Colquan.

“After that, you should join Lord Guilliman and prepare for your departure to Imperium Nihilus,” said Anivia.

Colquan looked at her for a while but did not say anything else. He bowed again and left the room.

Anivia sighed again, and looked out the window to Macragge’s gloomy sky.

“Are you alright, my lord?” Asked Dragory softly.

“I will have to be,” replied Anivia. “They are mine now and I will have to be able to handle them. Speaking of which, where is Caslev? Get him and Exium back from whatever they are doing to appease their minds, will you? They must know it’s not their fault and I need all the help I can get.”

“I will do it personally,” said Dragory.

“Maxim, can you do me a favour?” Continued Anivia, “go with Dragory to grab Exium. I want the two of you to go meet Tetrarch Felix and convince him that I can still visit Vaspator. It’ll be a short visit as I’ll need to get back in time for our counsel with Librarian Tigurius, but we can still get much done before then.”

Maxim hesitated for a moment and asked, “are you sure you are fit to travel, my lord?”

Anivia gave him an amused look. There was no anger in her eyes but he immediately realized that he had overstepped. He bowed his head.

“Let others worry about such things in the future, will you?” She said casually, and Maxim was reminded that, while his lord tolerated banter like no other, she had never actually changed her own course of action because of it.

“As you command, my lord,” said Maxim.

Anivia’s mood had improved significantly by the time she boarded the Lord of Vespator, the personal Strike Cruiser of Tetrarch Decimus Felix. Felix had not objected to Anivia’s plans to visit Vespator. He stationed a medicae team specifically dedicated to her care, but they were not obtrusive. They helped Teka editing the Handbook of the Regent’s Chosen, the concept of which Anivia found hilarious.

Anivia then learned that even Felix the primaris marine had guards. He had ten of them, all primaris marines drawn from the ten Shield Chapters of Ultramar, and they were to follow him everywhere. It was clear from Felix’s eyes that he hated the idea of having guards, and was only doing it because Guilliman had willed it. At least Anivia only had to have two or three at any one time.

All of Anivia’s Chosen boarded the Lord of Vespator with her, but only Caslev and Maxim followed her around.

Also Tyvar. He had been quiet, in a subdued kind of way that was typical of the Custodes. Anivia had not really spoken to him. She was hoping that Caslev would be able to answer any questions Tyvar might have had, though she suspected that Tyvar did not have any.

“Master Syrren! Um, I mean, Lord Regent!” A voice called out. It came from yet another source of Anivia’s delight.

“Historitor Guelphrain,” Anivia smiled.

Fabian Guelphrain was one of the founding members of the Logos Historica Verita, tasked by Guilliman to compile an accurate history of the Imperium. It was a pet project of Guilliman’s that Anivia had not paid much attention to, being not especially interested in history herself. But before joining the order, Fabian had been an Adept in the Administratum. He was an evaluator in the Departmento of Final Consideration, which was the collaborator unit of the Depatmento Processium. In other words, he had known of Anivia since when she first took office within Adeptus Terra, more than two decades ago.

Since recruited by Guilliman, Fabian had seen gods with his own eyes. There was Guilliman himself. There were things too dark to be remembered. There were also those clad in golden armour, two of which were standing not so far from him just now.

Master Anivia Lux Syrren was not a god. She was a legend. A saviour. A beacon of light. He had seen her at Palace ceremonies. He had heard her give speeches. His coworkers had derided her policies behind the Literati’s back, only to have those policies save their lives and Terra in their darkest hours. Now that he had studied more secret histories to be able to fill all of their empty heads, his admiration of her only grew.

Meeting a legend was different from meeting a god. Fabian had gotten much better at the latter. He had not yet been accustomed to the former.

“Please, just Fabian will do, my lord.” Fabian gave an awkward bow.

“I hope you will find something interesting on Vespator, Fabian,” said Anivia, “so that I don’t need to feel bad for dragging you along with me there. I’ve been wanting to meet you for some time. My recent misadventure dictates that I must multi-task.”

“Not at all, my lord!” Fabian said with a very fast speed, “it’s such an honour to meet you. I will gladly follow you everywhere!”

Then he gasped. Realizing what he had just said, his entire face choked red.

Anivia tried very hard not to laugh.

“Anywhere! I meant to say anywhere!” Fabian spoke even faster, “I have heard so much about you my lord. I owe my life to you! We all did, on Terra. We are not on Terra anymore but I am still thankful!”

Anivia raised her hands to cover her face and laughed silently.

“I, I’m sorry...” Fabian said meekly. He sounded like he was about to cry.

“Save him please, Teka,” Anivia managed to mumble from her palm.

Teka cleared his throat to hide his own laughter and said, “be not afraid, Master Guelphrain, our lord doesn’t bite. In fact, we would all rather that she did.”

Fabian smiled weakly at him. Although Teka was also several levels above him in rank, he had a calming presence.

“I have read some of your work,” continued Teka, “they are brilliantly written.”

“Thank you,” Fabian said sincerely.

“Now, from one Terran to another,” Teka said in a serious tone, “what other life-threatening dangers of Macragge-living that we should be aware of? Other than accidentally standing in the rain for an hour?”

Anivia rolled her eyes.

Chapter Text

The settlement on Vespator was somewhat small. It was classified as a Feudal World, though that was entirely based on population count. The technological level alone was perhaps at the same level as a Civilised World.

Since receiving the new designation as a Tetrarchian World, Vespator had undergone substantive development, most of which hadn’t entirely finished yet.

The Tetrarch of Vespator was an Ultramarine Captain. Although his Company was entirely on Vespator, his Chapter was based on Macragge. Consequently, although the world itself was ruled over by a space marine, most of the management positions were still held by humans.

They received Anivia in the usual, human way. Their customs were different from that of Terra, but between Nora serving as a translator and Anivia’s decade-long collaboration with Guilliman, the introduction was smooth enough.

“Tetrarch Felix, I hear that you served as Lord Guilliman’s Equerry during the Crusade before you became Tetrarch,” Anivia said to him. She had a faint kind of smile that Felix had learned to be typical of seasoned politicians. He instinctively did not like it, but he must admit that Guilliman also often smiled like this.

They were at dinner, a curious exercise. Space marines didn’t really enjoy eating. They ate for sustenance and nothing more. They were also designed to be able to store large quantities of energy and to use it efficiently. When not at war, they usually ate twice a day, but they could also fight for days without eating if necessary.

Anivia had to eat three times a day and the food had to be of high quality, so she called for a banquet in the first evening on Vespator.

The officers on Vespator were not royalty in the way that Terran lords were. Even standard planetary governor level vanity was rare. Still, no baseline human was going to say no to a banquet.

It was, as far as Anivia was concerned, a wonderful evening. Her bureaucrat company was delightful and the food was surprisingly good, much better than on Macragge’s Honour, at least.

“Yes, I was,” answered Felix, “I learned much in my role serving the primarch by his side, though not as much as to justify his trust in me.”

Anivia looked at Felix through the corner of her eye. It was not an attempt at hiding her gaze, which would’ve been futile in front of a primaris marine. Instead, it was an expression of amusement.

Felix took another deep breath to calm himself. He hated this aspect of baseline humanity. He was really hoping the Regent was different from the other mortal nobles.

His expression made Anivia laugh.

The conversations died down on the dining table. Many pairs of curious eyes turned to her.

“Something funny, my lord?” Asked a wine-emboldened diplomat.

“I am reminded of an old friend on Terra,” smiled Anivia. “He conducts almost all of his most important business in banquets such as this. I have never had the patience. But I see the wisdom in his ways now. When wielded properly, it can be more efficient than an interrogation.”

The dining table fell quiet. The bureaucrats exchanged looks of nervousness and confusion.

“Now, here is a question for you, Prefect Lindren, how long have you been doing House Rhodge’s bidding? Now that Lord Calgar is going to deal with House Herodian personally, have you considered where else to source your armoury for the pirates?”

A moment of silence. Then, before Prefect Lindren could jump up from his seat, before his hand even moved towards his weapon lock, a figure in gold towered over him from behind, restricting his body entirely with one pair of superhuman hands.

Anivia got up from her seat and walked toward him. She took his vox mic and said into it calmly, “hello there, just a friendly reminder that I have heard that the south pole of Vespator is a much more unpleasant place to die than the moon.”

Anivia slept soundly that night.

Though obviously not because of her advice, the renegades did end up fleeing to Vespator’s moon rather than its south pole, and so the fighting was off-world. It was surprisingly quiet inside the Regia Tetrarchia, possibly because most military personnel was summoned for the purge and many mortal Adepts were put under house arrest for evaluation.

It was a little bit more high-profile than Anivia’s usual style, she must admit. Part of this was because the urgency. If she didn’t deal with this issue before Tetrarch Portan finished constructing the supply center—which had been progressing with lightning speed—there would be actual damage incurred by a purge like this. The earlier she could deal with these issues, the more time she would save in the future.

There was another reason, which was that Anivia did in fact want to try out Tieron’s method. Before Guilliman’s resurrection, Anivia had mostly ruled without compromise. She was not a harsh ruler by any measure but she was never really challenged by anyone, not even when she was at the Processium. The same was true of most of the other High Lords. During the decade in which Guilliman had assumed Regency, Anivia was surprised by how poorly some of the High Lords responded to the sudden imposition of hierarchy. Even the loyal ones struggled to resume their original efficiency as the anxiety of outside scrutiny nibbled at their judgment. Anivia had known that most human governors would not be able to rule like how she ruled, but she didn’t fully realize that she didn’t actually have many good alternatives to teach them until her own ascension to Regency.

When in doubt, learn. Anivia looked around her for examples. One of them was, in fact, Sulachana. Although she had acquired much of her style by imitating Anivia, she had a witty flexibility that Anivia had never needed.

Then there was Tieron, whose entire being was built around those who were stronger than him, first physically and later politically. Tieron was a product of insecurity, which made his loyalty all the more remarkable. It had recently occurred to Anivia that Tieron might be a good model for those on Ultramar, especially those who were only recently made to serve below the Astartes. That was why Anivia was trying out his method.

The result was…indeterminant.

“With all due respect, my lord, I wouldn’t really call last night’s approach ‘subtle’.” Teka said over the breakfast table.

“It was certainly efficient,” said Nora. “And effective. None of them would dare something like this for at least a few decades.”

“It’s not about daring,” sighed Anivia, “you need to come with me when I explain it to Tetrarch Felix. It’s about desperation. But leave that aside for now, yes you are right Teka, it wasn’t as subtle as how Tieron would’ve done it.”

“But the Palace machine moves slowly. That might not be what you want for Ultramar, my lord.” Said Teka.

That was also true. It made Anivia feel simultaneously better for not bearing full responsibility for last night’s failure and worse for running out of leads.

“Perhaps I’ll just be really scary to make them think that the space marines aren’t so bad after all,” Anivia pulled a face.

“With all due respect, my lord. You can be scary at times, but being scarier than Lord Calgar would be quite a feat,” said Teka jokingly.

That was an interesting observation. Anivia was pretty sure Calgar himself would disagree. Felix would probably also disagree after last night. In fact, Anivia was pretty sure that quite a few space marines she had interacted with were more scared of her than they were of Guilliman.

Yet the same was not true of the humans. Many of them were scared of her for sure, and all of them understood that she had more authority and probably more means to put them through hell than the space marines. Yet they were not as scared of her as they were of even the regular space marines. Why was that?

Suddenly, a flash of brilliance hit Anivia. She jumped out of her chair and hurried to the door. She almost tripped. Caslev caught her.

“Ask Tetrarch Felix to use the 2^nd external landing zone and prepare a carrier to take me there,” Anivia voxed as she walked down the hall, “I want a production map of Vespator ready. Teka, compile me a social graph of House Rhodge, as much detail as you can in 2 hours. You can stay here. Nora will come with me, alongside Caslev, Shield-Captain Tyvar, and Sisters Ashel and Gwenyth. Oh, bring Guelphrain too. Maxim, see if you can find a safe distance to assess our effectiveness.”

Chapter Text

The 2^nd external landing zone was, in fact, not very far from the walls of the Regia Tetrachia, The Regia was initially designed to be modest in size, big enough to fit all and only those who worked for the Tetrachia. But Felix had evidently underestimated the amount of servants and auxiliaries needed to keep the mortal diplomats functional. The Regia was thus extended significantly, pushing its walls closer to the various structures that had been designated as external.

The 2^nd external landing zone was next to a settlement that was dense by Vespator standard. It was governed by the subsidiaries of House Rhodge. All of them were under space marine control now.

By the time Anivia landed, Felix had already arrived. He did not know why they were meeting here, but he expected that it had to do with the treachery he had just quelled, so he had his Honour Guards summon the heads of the six subsidiary branches of House Rhodge.

“Is everything under control?” Anivia asked as they walked toward the reception hall. She was wearing the most Terran uniform she could find, which was what she used to wear to Council meetings as the Master of the Administratum. Her voice was still a bit cracked, which was the only sign of her recent illness.

“Yes, Lord Regent,” said Felix. “Thanks to your timely discovery, all of House Rhodge’s operations have been uncovered and destroyed.”

Anivia would describe his tone as merely serious, but the mortal diplomats who were brought before them shivered.

“That is quite efficient, Tetrarch,” Anivia said in her official “lord” voice. She slowly patrolled in front of the line of diplomats. There was only so much intimidation her physique would allow, but the two demigods and the two soulless ones following her helped in that regard.

“Did you discover the reason behind this treachery?” Anivia asked Felix without looking at him.

“Not yet,” said Felix. “We have confiscated a vault’s worth of documents and will start processing them as soon as we can.”

Anivia did not reply. She stopped in front of a woman, whose face immediately turned ashen white.

“Is this the sigil of accounting?” Anivia asked her without pointing to her clothing.

“Ye, yes, my lord,” her voice was even more hoarse than Anivia’s.

“What does House Rhodge trade in?”

“A, admantium, my lord. Mined from...from the asteroids.”

“Why do they sell it to pirates? Does the Munitorum not use it all?” Asked Anivia innocently.

“I don’t know, my lord! I don’t know!” The woman began to cry.

“I see,” Felix said in a low voice. “In order to eliminate signal interference to Vespator’s new orbital stations, all asteroids are to be destroyed within a certain range. Mining any material from them is now impossible. They are not selling admantium to pirates. They are buying them.”

Anivia smiled, but she still didn’t look at him, and instead had her eyes fixed on the woman. “Why didn’t anyone report it?” She asked in a tone that sounded like she was merely musing to herself.

The woman shook her head to indicate that she didn’t know. She was still crying.

“Because I was not on Vespator,” said Felix, angry at himself. “My men had orders to ensure that supply quotas are met, but none of them has ever been miners.”

The woman looked at him in surprise. She thought she was for sure going to die for her failure to report. She didn’t think she would hear the Tetrarch of Vespator speak in a tone that almost sounded like regret.

“Still, a mistake is a mistake,” said Anivia neutrally, “dealing with pirates is a dangerous route to go down.”

“But it is not the same as heresy,” Felix said slowly.

Anivia looked at him from the corner of her eyes and said nothing.

The woman suddenly knelt down in Felix’s direction and cried, “House Rhodge rules fairly my lord! They are spending their own treasury to source adamantium for your army! They are not like the treacherous House Herodian! They are good people my lord! Loyal to the Imperium! Loyal to Ultramar!”

One of Felix’s Honour Guards raised his bolter at the woman in response to her sudden movement. Felix waved him down irritably. The woman closed her eyes and began a silent prayer to the Emperor.

Anivia glanced at the rest of the assembled diplomats. A few of them began to mouth a prayer also. More than a few were crying.

“Enough,” said Felix sternly. “I shall personally determine whether what you said is true.”

Then he signalled for them to be taken away.

—“Was I scary enough there?”

Anivia asked Caslev in an almost childish tone as they boarded Felix’s vessel, hitching a ride back.

Caslev instinctively looked around and realized that, with only Tyvar and the two Sisters, he would have to do the talking.

“I don’t know, my lord,” he answered honestly.

Anivia gave him a disappointed look and turned to Fabian, “what do you think, Historitor Guelphrain?”

Fabian gulped loudly and clenched to Nora’s arm.

“I think the Historitor’s answer is ‘yes’, my lord,” Nora said with a gentle smile. Then she lowered her head, “my earlier judgment of greed was premature, my lord. I shall remember this lesson.”

Anivia said warmly, “your intuition was a natural one. I have not been training you for these matters so I cannot fault you for inexperience.” Nora bowed again.

“My lord,” Maxim appeared on the boarding bridge.

“Oh, good, you’re back.” Anivia sat up from her chair, “was I scary enough over there?”

“I cannot answer that question,” Maxim smiled, “what I can say is that they no longer morbidly fear Tetrarch Felix.”

“Really?” Felix looked at him in surprise, “because I temporarily spared their lives?”

“No, because you care about them and their predicament,” said Anivia calmly. “A leader will always have to be a little bit scary, but they can’t fear you so much that they would rather hide their mistakes than telling you. They need to know that you’re not going to simply punish them for their mistakes; you are also going to help them.”

Felix thought over her words. Maxim tried his best not to look at Tyvar.

“Lord Regent,” Felix said suddenly, “it is not my place to pass judgment on these matters, but I am finally beginning to understand why the primarch holds you to such a high esteem. It is a good thing that you have come to Ultramar.”

Anivia smiled, “and I am beginning to understand what Lord Guilliman sees in you.”

Felix’s eyes lit up. He wanted to know more, but he was too embarrassed to ask.

Anivia was feeling generous, so she indulged him. “He said that you have an independent mind, that you are curious, that you are contemplative by nature. He knows you are not keen on leadership, but many of the best leaders ascend to their positions by circumstance rather than by design. In a sense, Lord Guilliman himself is that way. He was given the gift of governance, which he was supposed to fulfill as merely one part of a greater whole. When the circumstances call for it, though, he makes a brilliant leader.”

Felix stared at her intently, absorbing her every word like a dessert plant absorbed water. Anivia tried her best to hide her amusement.

Anivia took the next couple of days easy. She had allocated more time to this task than what ended up being necessary, partly because she didn’t know what the deal with House Rhodge truly was, partly also because she didn’t expect Felix to be this receptive.

There were more things she could be doing, of course, but Anivia was not a workaholic.

When Felix processed the data he had acquired, Anivia wandered his court and poked around. In typical Anivia fashion, everything she poked at magically worked better.

She was not a workaholic. She just had an unusual sense of fun.

Chapter Text

Much to Anivia’s disappointment, her vacation on Vespator was cut short by Calgar’s swift dealing of House Herodian on Protos and discovering that, while House Herodian was indeed traitorous, they were not heretical. What this meant was that the brief distraction he had afforded the Inquisition was, indeed, brief.

On her journey back, however, she learned of a piece of information that had completely changed her perspective on the nature of her dealings with the Inquisition.

“He is a what?” Her tone was sharp, with a healthy energeticness that, despite the topic of the discussion, everyone else was glad to notice.

“Ordo Xenos, my lord,” Dragory said with obvious amusement.

“When did you know of this and why didn’t you tell me?” Anivia looked at him with narrowed eyes.

“When you stood in the rain, my lord. He travelled from Imperium Nihilus through the Nachmund Gauntlet and so wanted me to make sure that he was free of Chaos taint. I didn’t tell you because you were unconscious at medicae when I finished.”

Anivia rolled her eyes at him. Teka began a silent laugh, so Anivia rolled her eyes at him too.

“Are you expecting to interact with xenos, Lord Regent?” Fabian’s eyes widened.

“No, and certainly not through Ordo Xenos,” to his surprise, Anivia gave a straight answer. She laid back in her chair and explained in a casual tone, “In the usual run of things, one would expect someone from Ordo Malleus. I already have Dragory, but Grand Master Varn implied that his rank was not high enough. So why Ordo Xenos all of a sudden? Well, if you think about it compositionally, it makes perfect sense. I have two psykers in my Chosen who can counsel me about the Threat Beyond. I have Custodes and the Silent Sisters who can deal with the Threat Within. What I don’t have is someone who knows about the Threat Without—Ordo Xenos.”

Fabian blinked. He was never trained to think in this way and only understood about a third of what she just said.

“They really do trust you, my lord,” observed Maxim.

Anivia nodded but didn’t look especially happy about it. She thought for a little while and looked up suddenly, “is he a psyker? Do you think you can read his mind Maxim?”

“He is a psyker—a biomancer, but I don’t advice you to try,” replied Dragory, “unless you are ready to declare war with the Inquisition.”

Anivia sighed. She was, in fact, starting to formulate a hypothesis about Varn’s actions. It was not bad news exactly, but she would really prefer it if her guess was wrong.

Giving her track record of guessing the intentions of others, though, she was probably not wrong.

Inquisitor Heinrix van Calox was remarkably young. Biomancers tended to look unaged, but Anivia suspected that he was also actually young. He couldn’t have been older than her by more than a few years.

He had not been Inquisitor for long, either. He inherited the position when his previous master, Lord Inquisitor Calcazar, died in Imperium Nihilus from some incident involving xenotech or chaos taint. Calcazar was a radical. Almost all radical Inquisitors died to either xenotech or chaos taint.

Heinrix was a puritan. They all started as puritans, and his experience in Imperium Nihilus had not been sufficiently devastating to change him. Nevertheless, he carried himself with a kind of seriousness that was typical of puritan Inquisitors who had been pressed close to the breakpoint.

“By Grand Master Varn’s command, I am to serve in your retinue indefinitely. It is my honour, Lord Regent,” he bowed. He seemed to be someone used to being under someone else’s command. Unusual for an Inquisitor, but unsurprising considering that he had been an acolyte until very recently.

“Happy to make your acquaintance, Inquisitor,” Anivia went through the motions without paying much attention to his declaration of loyalty. All Inquisitors were independent thinkers who were trained to question everyone around them, including their superiors. This one was simply better at hiding it than others.

Nora took the responsibility of introducing Heinrix to the Regent’s Chosen while Anivia read his service record. He was, understandably, awed by Caslev. His surprisingly detailed record suggested that he was picked up from a black ship, which explained his tenseness around the Sisters. He seemed to have encountered Astartes before but not in these numbers. He kept his composure well enough.

“Master Guelphrain!” A youthful voice called out as someone turned the corner. “Lord van Calox,” she said in surprise. Then, the entire assembly was revealed to her, and she stopped.

Anivia gave Nora a look, who immediately answered, “Rogue Trader Yassilli of House Sulymanya, Logos Historica Verita. She was responsible for charting out the Nachmund Gauntlet and bringing back Inquisitor van Calox.”

Anivia nodded and turned to her. Sulymanya had noticed the Regent’s sigil on her clothing and gave a proper bow, “please accept my apologies for intruding on you, Lord Regent.”

“No need to apologize, Lord Captain Sulymanya,” Anivia smiled politely, “I thank you for your service and bravery.”

“It is an honour,” she responded in the usual way and eyed Anivia curiously.

“Are you here to fetch me?” Fabian asked. He had, true to his words, been following Anivia almost everywhere. Her initial confusion soon morphed into alarm, so she did not object.

“I merely saw you from afar and decided to say hi,” said Sulymanya, “I did not expect the Lord Regent’s company.”

“We just returned from Vespator,” explained Anivia. “Historitor Guelphrain travelled with me. I understand that the Logos Historica Verita records live events as well as history?”

Sulymanya looked at Fabian, waiting for him to answer. When he did not, she hid her surprise reasonably well.

“Yes, my lord,” said Sulymanya, “an accurate recording of events as they unfold is invaluable to future historitors.”

“Accurate recording...” Anivia repeated in a contemplative tone, “is there such a thing?”

“What do you mean, my lord?” Sulymanya asked in surprise.

“Did you, Yassilli of House Sulymanya meet the Imperial Regent through the Historitor Fabian Guelphrain? Did you intrude on the Regent’s meeting with the Inquisitor Heinrix van Calox? Did you walk in on the Regent’s private council with her retinue?” Anivia asked patiently.

“But all of that are true, isn’t it? It’s just semantics,” said Sulymanya.

“Historitors deal in semantics, do they not? Would one of those descriptions be more true than the rest if something is to happen to one of us?”

Sulymanya fell silent. She was a smart woman. Although most of her experience was in the commanding of a Rogue Trader House, she had learned quickly since joining the Logos. She understood what the Regent was saying but had nothing to offer in return.

“In any case,” Anivia smiled nonconfrontationally, “you serve as the Lord Guilliman commands. That is good enough for me. I trust his judgment.”

“You trust my judgment on what?” Yet another voice joined in and every human looked up in surprise. The superhumans remained unfazed.

It was the Lord Guilliman himself, followed by a primaris space marine whom Anivia had not seen before. They started out being very far away but came so fast it almost looked like they had teleported.

“On everything, of course, my lord.” Anivia replied with a straight face.

Guilliman gave her a side eye but did not press. Instead, he said, “I heard of what you did for Vespator. Brilliantly done, as usual.”

“That was fast,” Anivia raised her eyebrows in genuine surprise, “we literally just landed an hour ago.”

“Not from Felix, but from Calgar,” Guilliman explained. “He returned from Protos yesterday.”

“That was fast,” Anivia said again, “does that mean you have finished with the supply balance calculations? I have not yet received the report.”

“I haven’t sent it because I plan to confer with you in person tonight,” said Guilliman. “But let’s leave that aside for now and allow me to introduce you to one of my sons. Lieutenant Demetrian Titus of the 2^nd company of the Ultramarines. I was hoping to have him join your Chosen. I hear you have sent Ferren Areios away to Terra.”

The primaris marine saluted Anivia. He had a stoic expression and tired eyes.

“None of the Regent’s Chosen is chosen by the Regent,” mused Anivia, partly in jest but partly also to anticipate any sense of alienation Titus might feel going forward. “But I thank you, my lord. Lieutenant Titus, it is a pleasure to meet you. Your new Captain is absent at the moment, but Dragory will be able to induct you.”

Dragory saluted him. Titus seemed a little surprised that it was the Grey Knight rather than the Custodian who was to induct him, but he still said nothing.

“It looks like I should do dangerous things more often,” Anivia observed him with a smile, “to keep your sons entertained while they are forced away from the battlefield.”

Titus was caught off guard by the remark. He opened his mouth in an attempt to excuse himself but didn’t know what to say.

“Be gentle with my sons,” Guilliman said with a laugh. That seemed to have startled Titus even more. Even Sulymanya stared. Anivia merely smiled indulgently.

“Fabian, it’s good to see you,” Guilliman turned to the Historitor. He was going to say more but a quick glance from Anivia made him change his mind. “Yassilli, good to see you too.”

Sulymanya hesitated. She could sense that Guilliman was daring her to call him by his first name, and she tried very hard to meet that challenge. The words would not come out, though. Not in front of the Regent.

“My lord,” she merely bowed. Guilliman gave her a look of amusement.

“Shall we?” Guilliman turned to Anivia, “I have much to discuss with you, and dinner is ready.”

Chapter Text

“Ordo Xenos, huh?” Guilliman mused quietly as they walked down the corridor to his dining chamber.

“Any speculations?” Asked Anivia unenthusiastically.

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Guilliman. “This Demetrian Titus I’m sending you... He is a First Born who crossed the Rubicon. He used to be Captain of the 2^nd company. According to Calgar, there was some suspicious warp phenomenon surrounding a mission he undertook on Graia. One of his squad members reported him to Inquisitor Thrax of Ordo Malleus.”

Guilliman’s voice turned grim, “Thrax seemed to hold deep grudges against the Astartes. He imprisoned several of them in stasis cells and psychically scourged them for signs of heresy. When he couldn’t find any, he simply tried again. It is estimated that Titus spent a century in Thrax’s captivity.”

Anivia frowned, “I assume the Grey Knights know?”

“They were the ones who eventually brought Thrax down, though I believe they had also helped him in the past,” said Guilliman. “If you are worried about Dragory, I believe the Grey Knights were not involved in Titus’s capture; he surrendered voluntarily.”

“Hmm,” Anivia made a thinking noise. They walked in silence for some time, then Anivia asked, “so, do you assign him to me for his benefit or for mine?”

“For my own, mostly,” said Guilliman, “You have some leverage to pull with the Inquisition. I was hoping to lean on that. Besides, for what it’s worth, even after a century of torment, Titus remains both loyal and combat effective. He will be a valuable addition to the Chosen.”

And you, of course, will be invaluable to him. He did not say these words out loud. He suspected that Anivia wouldn’t care.

He was right. Anivia’s mind was already on a different matter, “sounds like my job will be keeping house, then. I don’t know how much Calgar has told you about the Shield-Captain Tyvar. He declared the entire Brazen Drakes Chapter heretical for some psychic phenomenon and single-handedly drove them into heresy. He even murdered all of the primaris reinforcements under his care for guilt by association.”

Guilliman winced. “Is this why you fell ill?” He asked.

Anivia gave him a look and didn’t answer.

“Do you have a plan?” Guilliman asked.

“With Tyvar? Yes,” said Anivia, “in general? Not yet.”

They arrived at Guilliman’s dining chamber and briefly paused the discussion. Once all servants were made to leave, they resumed.

“And what is the matter with Fabian?” Asked Guilliman.

“I will let you know once I find out,” said Anivia. “He’s trying to figure something out. I know you send Lucerne to keep an eye on him, but I’m hoping it won’t come to that.”

“Thank you,” Guilliman sighed. “These internal divisions are always more difficult to resolve than outside threats.”

“This is my job,” smiled Anivia, “yours is the outside threats.”

“And I am forever grateful to have you with me,” Guilliman said gently. His gaze fell upon Anivia in a soft yet intense manner. She found herself struggling to meet it.

He took a deep breath and said in a low voice, almost to himself, “you should eat dinner first. I have cleared out my task list for tonight.”

Two hours later, Anivia laid in the middle of his massive bed, trying to stop herself from drifting into madness.

Guilliman held her from behind, his hand simultaneously touching her clitoris as well as his own throbbing erection, which was clutched between her legs. She continued to try to lean back into his chest, as if that was going to quench the fire inside her.

“Roboute...Roboute.” She was probably calling his name as a plea, but it had the opposite effect. His restraint grew thinner with every sound she made. A giant, bottomless hole opened up in his soul that craved every drop of light she emanated. He was simultaneously satisfied and deprived. He wanted so much more. He wanted nothing at all.

He kissed the back of her neck, which had turned red from the heat and the friction.

“Will you wait for me, Anivia?” He whispered to the back of her neck, “will you be strong for me?”

Anivia could not process what he said and merely moaned in response.

“I will win this war for you,” he promised softly. “For the Imperium and for you, I will be victorious.”

Chapter Text

When Anivia awoke, it was still dark.

She was sore in a way that she hadn’t been since she stopped the mandatory scholum combat training, but she was not filthy like she thought she would be. Guilliman had bathed her. Now that she came to think of it, she had a faint recollection of that episode. The memory alone made her blush.

She didn’t have to stir much for him to notice her waking. A lumen illuminated the room.

Anivia tried to speak but her throat was tired from all the moaning and pleading she did. Guilliman noticed her predicament and chuckled quietly. Before Anivia protested, though, he gave her a glass of water.

“I thought we were going to talk about Crusade supplies,” said Anivia.

“We still have two more hours if that’s what you’d like to do.”

Anivia rolled her eyes and laid back down. Guilliman took his dataslate and joined her on the bed.

“Are you worried about me?” After a moment of silence, Anivia asked suddenly.

Guilliman’s stylus paused for a moment but he did not look up.

“Yes,” he said softly, “does that offend you?”

“No. Why would I be offended?” Anivia mused rhetorically. Guilliman gave her a quick glance. He knew she was telling the truth. She was too psychologically secure to be bothered by other people's protective instinct toward her. As long as they didn’t actually try to prevent her from doing what she wanted to do, she did not care.

Still, Guilliman felt a little sorry. She didn’t need him to worry. She had done so much to hide her uncertainty from him. The least he could do is to pretend that he didn’t notice.

“I don’t like the idea of Valoris and I leaving you at the same time,” Guilliman said honestly.

Anivia smiled and sighed simultaneously, “I sometimes wonder if this is the true difference between you and mortals.”

“What?” He looked at her in genuine confusion.

“Lack of jealousy.”

“Huh?” It took him a second to follow, “oh, you mean of you and Valoris?” He thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “I suppose so. Jealousy necessitates the sense of ownership, which is a detriment to reason.”

Anivia must confess that she didn’t understand a word of what he just said.

Guilliman thought about it a little more and continued, “remember when we talked about the nature of faith all those years ago? You told me you didn’t need answers because you didn’t need to place your own fate in the hands of someone else. In a way, it’s the same with us. We have chosen you, and that’s all that matters.”

Although Anivia had understood a lot more this time, she must respectably disagree with Guilliman’s claim that it was the same idea.

Guilliman observed her briefly and leaned over for a kiss.

“It’s okay if you don’t understand,” he said softly. “That’s how you are different from the Emperor.”

That did not sound like a compliment, but Anivia decided to take it as one.

Later that day, they took counsel with the Chief Librarian of the Ultramarines, one of the most powerful psykers in the Imperium.

“An anchor of a warp entity is its correspondence existence in real space,” Chief Librarian Varro Tigurius said slowly, not knowing where this was going. “We know that faith makes warp entities stronger, but faith is merely a fuel. It is not the engine itself. The engine is the emotions and the souls that give birth to those warp entities. Fear, for example. Anger. Pain. The anchor is something different still. It is a thread that binds these elements together and forces a kind of cohesion upon them. Most warp entities do not have anchors. This is why daemons cannot spend prolonged period of time in real space.”

“Is an anchor like a daemonhost?” Asked Anivia. Guilliman shot her a sharp glance. She ignored him.

“A daemonhost is a kind of anchor, yes,” said Tigurius. “A rudimentary one. The daemonhost is bound to the daemon for the detriment of both—only one of them can act at any given time. A true anchor preserves independence from the warp entity. Neither is beholden to the other.”

“But if one dies, the other will, too?”

“Perhaps,” said Tigurius, “that exceeds my knowledge on the matter. My instinct is to say that that is not necessary. Although daemonhosts rarely survive the possession, it is not necessary that they die when the daemon is purged.”

He pondered for a moment and continued, “that said, suitable anchors are extremely rare. They must possess a strength of will rivaled by no other. All the rumours of anchors I could find have been powerful psykers or navigators.”

“What is the effect on the anchor?” Asked Guilliman.

“Unclear,” said Tigurius, “daemonhosts are almost always corrupted by the daemon possessing them, but the independence of a true anchor might serve to guard against this. At the same time, anchors usually enter into the arrangement voluntarily, and daemons that have anchors tend to be much stronger. It is difficult to disentangle corruption from assimilation.”

He was trying his best not to ask what this was about, but he knew that he would have to know eventually.

Anivia took a deep breath and said: “the Emperor wants me to be His anchor.” Then she braced herself.

Tigurius took it much better than Anivia expected, which made her suspect that he had already tried to probe her mind when Maxim and Dragory were not around. She let him do it again.

“This is...” he hesitated a moment before continuing, “I glimpse nothing of your mind, but this is the closest to the Emperor’s grace I have felt since my own sanctioning.”

“That’s promising,” said Anivia neutrally.

To be completely honest, Anivia did not especially care if people didn’t believe her and saw her as a heretic. Obviously, it would be a problem of a large number of Imperial citizens looked upon her with hostility because it would made her job challenging, but she did not care if this Inquisitor or that space marine decided not to believe her. If she was that easily assassinated, perhaps the Emperor’s plan was bound to fail.

Guilliman understood her theoretical, but he, naturally, did not approve of her practical.

“Here is another question,” Anivia said contemplatively. “When the Aeldari birthed the dark god Slaanesh, it wiped out half of their civilization and created the Eye of Terror. What would happen when we birth the Emperor?”

Tigurius looked at her in shock.

“Anivia,” Guilliman called her name gently but firmly.

“I am not having second thoughts,” she said calmly. “I will do it, or die trying. But this question will need to be asked, sooner or later.”

Guilliman knew she was right.

Anivia gave Tigurius a faint smile, “don’t worry, Chief Librarian. I am not expecting you to answer this question for me.”

Tigurius did not smile back. He, too, knew that she was right. It was a question that needed to be asked, and she would forever carry the weight of its answer.

Chapter Text

The Indomitable Crusade marched on.

Macragge all of a sudden felt empty. Objectively speaking, it was emptier than before. Almost all of the military personnel were gone, save for a few companies under Calgar’s command. There were other Shield Chapters dedicated for the protection of Ultramar, but all of them were stationed away from Macragge.

Almost all of the Custodes went with Colquan and away. They were here first and foremost because of their desire to participate in Guilliman’s Crusade. Given how the Custodes were as a breed, Anivia really wanted to respect whatever little desire some of them managed to manifest.

The Tetrarchs were also gone. The supply centers moved faster than expected, and so Tetrarch Agemman had already begun organizing an assault force to reclaim the Scourge Stars.

Calgar was still here. Most of his job was politics nowadays, especially when he couldn’t off-load it to Agemman. Anivia was not serious when she told Calgar she was not here to make his life easier, but it was not her priority.

Her priority was the Ecclesiarchy, whom she delt with slowly and painfully. Tigurius had proven to be a reasonably good help. He understood the intention with the Ecclesiarchy as soon as Anivia told him of the Emperor’s plan, and he had tried his best to counsel her on the approach. He was not as optimistic as she was, but he kept his skepticism to himself. Unfortunately, there was only so much productive interactions he could have with the priests as a psyker Astartes.

A much greater help and a pleasant surprise was the Inquisitor Heinrix. Most Inquisitors were at least socially aware, as their operation relied more on politics than on force. For this reason, many acolytes were trained in this regard also. But Herinx was socially capable in a way that rivaled Sulachana, though of course without any of her playfulness. Anivia soon learned that she could trust him to entertain any group of guests—be they Sisters of Battle, mortal bureaucrats, or space marines—with minimal debriefing, and she would be able to come back to a fully intact room and only marginally more upset guests.

For what Varn was trying to do with this delegate, political savvy was surely not a desired feature. Dragory had told her that Varn had prepared another Inquisitor, a Lord, also from Ordo Xenos, but decided that Heinrix was a better choice due to how green he was, and the fact that he had been operating entirely in Segmentum Obscurus until now. He was the most non-threatening person Varn could find without veering into the territory of disrespect.

“Lord Regent, Lord Calgar submitted this report with apologies for the delay.”

Anivia took the dataslate from Heinrix and stared it for a moment in confusion.

“Did you ask for this?” She asked and showed the dataslate to Teka, who took a glance and laughed.

“You asked Lord Calgar to tell you what frustrated him the most about mortal governors, remember?”

That...sounded like something she would do. Anivia looked at the report again and mused, “this does not look like a grievance.”

It was a full report on the state of governance in greater Ultramar, alongside existing weak points and plans for improvements.

“It’s the Lord Calgar. What did you expect?” Teka chuckled, “is it at least usable?”

“Eh,” Anivia made a noncommittal sound, “do you want to do the honour?”

“Not especially,” Teka said, but he reached out and grabbed the dataslate anyway. He winced as he began to read it. “Lord Calgar is nothing if not ambitious,” he mumbled as he read.

“He’s got 28 volumes of achievement to prove it,” said Anivia with amusement.

Imperial Regent Lord Anivia Lux Syrren was comfortable with her subordinates in a way that fascinated Heinrix. It was not just the casualness. Before he crossed the Nachmund Gauntlet, he had been in the retinue of a Rogue Trader who was uncomfortably casual with her crew. This was different.

With Anivia, there was never any doubt who was truly in charge. She never needed to assert herself, to make sure that others knew their place, to justify her decisions. She simply expected that they would do what she commanded. Yet at the same time, she seemed remarkably open to challenge. Some of her actions appeared as if she was actively looking for dissension. She was candid about her own uncertainty in a way that somehow added to her authority rather than diminished it.

She was not the kind of leader people followed because they thought she would never err. She was the kind that people followed because they trusted her as a person. She was not infallible. It was how she dealt with her own fallibility that shone the brightest light.

And it was precisely that feature, thought Heinrix, that worked the miracles.

“My lord, may I ask for some of you time for private counsel?”

Anivia looked up from her dataslate, trying not to appear too delighted by the anticipation of this difficult conversation.

“Of course, Shield-Captain Tyvar,” she stood up and stretched her arms, “I can use a walk.”

They did not walk very far. Technically, Tyvar was not a Regent’s Chosen and therefore did not count as a guard under Valoris’s “one guard besides Caslev” rule, but Anivia did not want to involve anyone who was not a Custodian, and so she only took Caslev.

Between Tyvar and Caslev, Anivia would probably be fine even if the entire Magna Macragge Civitas fell. Still, she did not want to defy Valoris’s orders too often.

They went up the fortress walls. The air was delightfully refreshing, if a little chilly. Anivia shivered. Caslev took off his black cloak and wrapped it around her.

“Look,” Anivia pointed to the civil sectors of Magna Macragge Civitas in the distance. She could not in fact see the activities on the streets, but the Custodians might.

“It is such a fragile thing. Blink too hard and it’ll be gone,” she said in a soft, almost dreamy tone.

“I understand now that my actions were rash,” said Tyvar, “I chose the easier path when I should’ve been strong enough for the harder one.”

Anivia smiled. She kept pointing, “do you find that beautiful, Tyvar?”

“I—” he hesitated for a moment but decided to speak the truth, “I do not, my lord. I was not made to appreciate beauty.”

Does that disappoint you, my lord? She could almost hear the question in his heart.

“I thought so,” Anivia did not sigh. She merely lowered her hand. With eyes still fixed on the distant city, she continued calmly, “this is the aspect I disagree with Him the most. Well, one of the aspects.”

“My lord?”

“I know I’m asking a lot from you,” Anivia finally turned around. She looked up at him and smiled sadly. “You are doing what you think is right, but that’s not what you are made for. You are made to do what you are told, but the person who is supposed to tell you things is gone. You are left with me. I don’t like to command you and I don’t agree with your own judgments. It’s not fair. I know it’s not fair.”

“I...” Tyvar seemed more stunned by her sadness than by anything else she said. “You don’t need to be fair with us, my lord.”

You don’t need to…treat me well, my lord. Valoris had said.

She should not have taken the Custodes. She should’ve let them languish in that darkness, waiting for a voice that would never sound, burying themselves with memories long gone. She should’ve left them lost in the labyrinth of time, holding on to something that would never be. She should’ve watched them shatter with the dream that defined them, the dream that shackled them, the dream of which not even echoes remained.

But she was arrogant. She was nothing if not arrogant.

“I’m going to try,” she promised him, though she knew fully well that he didn’t know what she meant. “I’m going to find a way,” she said.

She would desolate that labyrinth. She would vaporize those dreams. She would light those memories on fire and burn through the night to find those lost souls. Then, she would break their bones and drag the despair out of them.

Chapter Text

In a certain sense, the job of the Master of the Administratum was to put out fires, so Anivia was reasonably well-versed in the art of emergency response. Yet the kind of crisis Ultramar had thrown at her was almost awe-inspiring.

“My lord, are you busy?” Voxed Teka in the human channel, “can you come to the west wing if you are not? Side garden by the fountain.”

“Where Lieutenant Titus is?” Asked Nora.

“Yes,” said Teka, “I think he needs you, my lord.”

“Since when did you adopt Titus?” Asked Anivia bemusedly, “I’m on my way.”

“Probably since he helped Teka memorize the entire casualty report of the Laphis system and culled back two Cadian regiments to redirect to Nethamus.” Said Nora.

Anivia: “what?”

“Shouldn’t you be with the Sororitas, Nora?” Teka protested, “and for the record, I did not ask him to memorize it. I asked him to retrieve it. He only memorized it because he thought the document was too important to be transported. And that was because our lord wrote it on parchment.”

“Lord van Calox has kindly offered to take over the Sororitas,” replied Nora, “last time I saw them, I accidentally let it slip that I think there are better ways to serve the Emperor than martyrdom.”

“Oof,” said Teka, “I think this means you owe lord van Calox your life. My lord, are you near? I think Titus can’t hold on for long.”

 “I’m almost there. Also, did you know that lord van Calox has access to this channel?”

Teka: “what?”

“It’s the human channel, after all,” Anivia said with some amusement, “ok I’m here. Cutting out.”

She turned the corner.

Teka is too protective. Titus has at least another minute inside him, thought Anivia.

It was always difficult to read the expressions of space marines. If it wasn’t for their well-rehearsed stoicism, it was for the fact that they were all too damn tall, and their amours were too damn bulky. It was difficult to even see their faces, let alone read them.

But Astartes were in fact not difficult to read, if one knew what signs to look for. In the easiest case, they reached for their bolters. That meant they were angry and were about to shoot you. More subtly, the muscles in their limbs might tense. That meant they were nervous, although they would never admit it. Their bodies were getting ready for close combat because they were, perhaps subconsciously, registering a threat.

Then, finally, there was Titus in his current state. He took long, controlled breath. His fingers were intentionally relaxed. His legs were perfectly still. All the tension was in his torso. He was too angry to want to appear angry. He was too nervous to want to appear nervous.

He was talking to another Ultramarine battle brother. Anivia was not nearly well-versed enough in military honour markings to know what rank he was. All she knew was that, since he was an Ultramarine, he was not a Chapter Master.

“Lord Regent.”

Titus was too focused on controlling himself that he did not notice Anivia until the other space marine called out. He turned around in surprise.

Anivia nodded and turned to Titus, “I hear that you have helped Teka with the Laphis system. It’s not part of your duty, but since you’ve already done it, I was hoping to hear your thoughts on the matter.”

“I—yes, my lord.” Titus said in his usual grim tone, if also slightly dazed.

“The Codex Astartes forbids space marines from tampering with mortal affair,” said the other Ultramarine suddenly.

“Sorry?” Anivia stared at him.

“Leandros, Chaplain of the 2^nd Company of the Ultramarines,” he bowed to Anivia, “it is my duty to ensure that none of my battle brothers veer from the righteous path.”

“By quoting the Codex at me?” Anivia was genuinely amused.

“The Codex Astartes guides us. Following it faithfully is the only way to avoid corruption.” Said Leandros.

Half of Anivia wanted to vid-record this and send it to Guilliman. The other half thought this would be too cruel to Guilliman. Teka was right. Titus needed help, though Anivia herself could also do with some help.

It was one thing to revere the Emperor like the Black Templars did. That was already bad enough. It was quite something else to venerate a book that a now-living primarch wrote more than ten thousand years ago.

“Are you lecturing the Lord Regent?” Titus challenged him sternly. It surprised Anivia that he still had this kind of protective instinct in him. She now understood why Teka found him so endearing.

“Of course not,” Leandros said plainly, “the Lord Regent speaks with the Emperor’s authority. I am merely providing information that may be crucial for her...security.”

Technically speaking, Titus was in charge of Anivia’s security, but he did not use this as a retort. Instead, a little pain slipped through his impassive facade, like he was seeing the most sacred part of himself slipping through his fingers, and he was powerless to stop it.

Anivia suddenly realized that he didn’t know that she knew his past, that her trust in him was not founded on ignorance. Conceivably, he didn’t even know what Guiliman and Calgar truly thought of him.

That was it. She couldn’t afford to continue. If she wanted to get some experience with Astartes fanatics, she would have to wait for another day.

The Regent’s posture changed.

It was difficult to describe exactly what she did that was different, but she suddenly took on a presence that was forceful enough to rival that of the Astartes. No, it was much more forceful than that. It overshadowed even the presence of the Custodes standing behind her.

Leandros’s limbs tensed. He resisted the urge to reach for his bolter.

Stay calm, he told himself. The Codex demands that I stay calm.

But he could not stay calm. He could hardly remember the words of the Codex.

The Regent looked up at him and smiled. It was a faint, cold smile. It was a smile of absolute command and nonnegotiable authority.

“I do not pull rank often enough, Chaplain.” She said slowly. Her voice was quiet, almost drowned out by the sound of the nearby fountain. The Custodes who followed her turned his head. He had not been paying attention to their exchange until just now. There was something about the way the Custodian reacted to her words that gave Leandros a bad feeling, like he had just stepped off of a cliff, about to fall into oblivion.

“But perhaps it is healthy, sometimes, to remind myself of who I am and what I’m here to do.” The Regent said with a tone that could almost be described as patient, “I was a High Lord, speaking on behalf of the Emperor. Then, I became the Imperial Regent, speaking with the Emperor’s authority. Here is what that means: Your cherished gene-sire Lord Guilliman cannot give me orders. The Inquisition must bow before me. I have the right to rule His realm in its entirety.”

Her silver eyes glimmered, as soft as the morning haze, as cold as the dying star.

“Now,” she continued in that same patient tone, “your friend over here serves in the Regent’s Chosen. His Lord is me. His Captain is Trajann Valoris, the Captain-General of the Custodes. He can kill you right here and now and his fate will still be entirely mine to spare. I understand that you do not fear death, so please do not take this as a threat. I merely wish to point this out to you: some things in this universe are beyond your grasp. I am one of those things. This Demetrian Titus is another. Have I made myself clear?”

He could not respond. No matter how hard he tried, no sound would come out of him.

“That was great my lord,” as soon as they walked out of earshot, Dragory remarked with characteristic levity, “you should do this more often.”

Anivia gave him a look of amusement, “I don’t have nearly enough titles to pull rank effectively. When Lord Guilliman comes back I’ll need to borrow a few from him.”

Dragory chuckled. “Should I go to keep an eye on him?” He gestured in Leandros’s direction. Anivia nodded and waved him away.

Only Caslev and Titus remained. Titus had a conflicted expression on his face, like he didn’t dare to look at her. Caslev, on the other hand, was delighted by what Anivia had just done.

“I—my lord,” Titus forced himself to begin to speak but stopped as soon as he realized that he didn’t actually know what he was going to say. Should he thank her? Would that be too strange? Did he appear too weak? Should he apologize instead?

“The error is on my part,” Anivia looked at him with a slight frown and said in a serious tone, “too much has happened in the past several months and you have performed your duties so conscientiously that I have neglected you. I know how you got here. Lord Guilliman knows too. He trusts you. I hope you did not interpret this assignment as a sanction.”

“I—would never!” Titus looked abhorred by this idea. He took a moment to collect himself and said determinately, “I have never considered this assignment as anything other than the utmost honour and privilege.”

It was true. Titus was never one to be choosy about his assignment, but even he couldn’t help but be exhilarated by the fact that the primarch personally recommended him to the Regent. Compounded by what he had observed about her in the past few months, the only uncertainty in his hearts was not knowing what he did to deserve such an honour.

The Regent smiled faintly. “Good,” she said. “Now tell me your version of the story.”

Titus took a deep breath. He had never said these words out loud before and he didn’t want any of the pain to escape him.

“I served as the Captain of the 2^nd Company when Graia was invaded, first by an Ork Waaagh and then by the archenemy. During the war on Graia, I survived multiple incidents with warp powers that should have killed me. To this day, I do not know why. Leandros, who was a member of my command squad at the time, was convinced that I was corrupted and reported me to Inquisitor Thrax. I…do not remember much after that.”

His jaw tensed, though Anivia must say that he was pretty good at masking his discomfort. She almost couldn’t tell that he was in pain. He continued, “At some point Thrax was possessed by a daemon and the Grey Knights took him down. They discovered me when they searched through his possessions in the subsequent investigation. They estimate that I had spent a century in his hold. After that, I served as a Blackshield in the Deathwatch for two decades before I was recalled by Chapter Master Calgar.”

“Hmm,” Anivia made a thinking sound. Brief though his retelling was, it did clarify several questions she had about his service record.

“Can you be sure that Thrax’s daemonic possession happened after he imprisoned you, not before?” She asked.

“Yes,” talking about Thrax and not himself seemed to have calmed Titus a little, “Thrax was in close association with the Grey Knights. None of them was suspicious of him.”

“That explains a lot,” Anivia sighed. She then opened her vox, “Teka, have we received information from Terra since we left? Run a grid search on the Inquisition. See if you can get Arx’s attention.”

“If it’s only Lord Arx you’re trying to contact, my lord, I’m pretty sure she has an agent here on Macragge,” replied Teka.

“Run a search,” said Anivia, “let them know it’s from me. Get Heinrix to help you.”

“Oof, it’s that bad huh? Is lord Titus alright? Did you make it in time like the hero that you are, my lord?”

Anivia gave Titus a look of amusement and said in the vox, “he’s fine. He can hear you. Would you like to say hi?”

“Oh! Ummm…hi?” Anivia can almost feel Teka’s embarrassment crawling out of the vox, “ah, it looks like lord van Calox survived the Sororitas. I’m cutting out. Will report later. Thank you my lord!”

Anivia chuckled as the vox cut out. “You should buy him a drink,” she smiled to Titus.

Chapter Text

“That was fast.” As soon as Heinrix walked into her office with the envelope, Anivia remarked with amusement. “What did you do to Lord Arx, Teka?”

“I only searched,” Teka looked up in confusion, “it’s not been a fortnight. I haven’t had the time to process anything yet. Perhaps Lord Calgar intervened?” He looked at Titus inquiringly.

“I have not been contacted by anyone,” replied Titus.

Heinrix put the envelop on Anivia’s desk and she was able to see the seal more clearly.

“Would you look at that—Talasa Prime,” the way she dragged out her words made her sound sly, “the Primary Watch Fortress of the Deathwatch, conveniently located in Ultramar, too. That’s not where you served right, Titus?”

“No,” confirmed Titus, “I served at Watcher Keep, under Watch Master Vaedrian Shenol.”

“The plot thickens… Either they really really like you, or I’m about to get real busy,” mused Anivia, more to herself than anyone else. She still had not opened the envelop. “But why the Deathwatch? Why not the Grey Knights?”

“Perhaps the one from the Grey Knights is still en route?” ventured Teka, “this was delivered by messenger rather than astropathy.”

“The Watch Master of Talasa Prime is lord Mordelai of the Imperial Fists,” Nora checked her dataslate.

Anivia looked up at the two Imperial Fists of the Chosen, both shook their heads.

“Are you not going to read it, my lord?” Asked Teka.

“Oh I am,” said Anivia with a smile, “I’m just waiting.”

“For what?”

—“For me.”

Much to Calgar’s surprise, Anivia stood up this time, though not exactly in order to greet him. She strolled up to the window and leaned against it, seemingly only to stretch her legs.

“Chapter Master, Chief Librarian.” The space marines saluted the two esteemed guests. Both of them bowed to Anivia.

“Lieutenant Titus,” hailed Calgar, “it’s good to see you again.” Although Calgar had been the reason Titus was able to meet Guilliman, the two Astartes had not met in person on Macragge. While both held the other in high esteem, neither was sentimental enough to plan a reunion.

“I thank you, Chapter Master,” Titus replied. Once again, he hid his delight and insecurity equally well.

“I am glad to see you here,” said Chief Librarian Tigurius in a softer tone. Titus instantly understood what he meant by “here”—he did not mean Macragge. He meant as a Regent’s Chosen.

Titus did not know what to respond, so he thanked the Chief Librarian too. Anivia looked slightly amused. Titus felt a strange embarrassment and had to consciously control himself so as to not turn away.

“Would you like to do the honour, Chapter Master?” Anivia gestured at the envelope.

Calgar opened it and read its content with a frown. “It is from Watch Master Mordelai,” he confirmed. “He wants to call for an Inquisitorial High Conclave.”

“Of Ordo Xenos?” Anivia raised her eyebrows, “and he wants me present?”

“Of all Inquisitors operating in the Ultima Segmentum,” said Calgar. His eyes returned to the parchment and he had a strange expression on his face. When he opened his mouth again, he was oddly hesitant. “I would describe his tone as…pleading, Lord Regent. Mordelai wants something from you. I know him. We have fought together a few times. He does not often ask for help, but he is not single-minded.”

“Hmm,” Anivia made a thinking sound. “The question is: does he want the same thing as Varn, or does he want the opposite?”

“If he is calling for a High Conclave, it can’t be the opposite, right?” Said Dragory.

“Good point,” Anivia nodded. “Still does not change the fact that I don’t really want to do it, though.”

Dragory shrugged.

Calgar hesitated for a moment and stated plainly, “I do not follow.”

“Oh, my apologies, Chapter Master.” Anivia looked up genuinely apologetically, “here is the background. There are a number of problematic Inquisitorial decisions that have been brought to my attention. You know of Lieutenant Titus here, but there are other cases of different natures. As far as I can tell, they are not related. Unfortunately, this means that the problem is structural rather than specifically instigated, and therefore not easily resolvable through chainswords and bolters. Caddon Varn, Grand Master of the 6^th Brotherhood of the Grey Knights, seems to want me to give it a go. I was going to confer with Kleopatra Arx, the Inquisitorial Representative on Adeptus Terra, before I make a decision. I thought this message was from her, though I still think it’s caused by my recent attempt at getting Arx’s attention.

“Arx is Ordo Malleus. So far, all of the specific incidents I’ve been able to confirm have been with Ordo Malleus, but the fact that Varn sent me Inquisitor van Calox here from Ordo Xenos makes me think that his ambition is greater than that. Now that the Deathwatch wants to call for a Conclave.” Anivia’s eyes wandered out the window in contemplation. After a moment of pause, she turned back and shrugged, “I would really hate it if it’s a schism between the two Ordos. I would hate it more if it’s a mortal Inquisitor versus Astartes kind of thing.”

“I see,” Calgar said. “In that case, I have two pieces of information that might help ease your mind. First is that Mordelai, at least as of a century ago, is not as dismissive of mortals as some of the other Watch Masters. Second is that the reason I am here now is not because I am monitoring your office, Lord Regent, but because I have received a message from Inquisitor Arx’s agent.”

“Oh really?” Anivia seemed delighted by this news, which gave Calgar a strange sense of pride. “I’m going to put it off, then, until I hear directly from Arx.” She thought Calgar had come because of his intelligence that the Inquisition contacted Anivia through carrier and he was going to exercise the right she had given him of auditing her court. If Arx was contacting Calgar, at least Anivia could be sure that it wasn’t a mortal versus Astartes problem.

“That seems wise,” said Calgar, “especially since there are other matters that deserve your attention.”

He looked at Tigurius, who bowed his head and said, “we are all here today because of a confluence of chance events, but my craft does not allow me to believe in coincidence. Lord Regent, I am here because of a vision. A mountain made of stone that is colder than the deepest night. I believe it is the Mount Pharos.”

“Ok?” Anivia said. She had not heard of the name Pharos before.

“It is a mountain upon the planet Sotha,” explained Calgar. “Brother Tigurius thinks we ought to go there.”

Anivia looked at Tigurius. He couldn’t have summoned the Imperial Regent and the Lord Defender of Ultramar just on any dream. He had to have been certain.

Tigurius looked up and met her eyes. He was certain.

Anivia felt a wave of phantom pain in her chest. She did not manage to stop herself from wincing.

“In that case, I am at your command, Lord Defender.”

Chapter Text

Macragge was not quiet at night.

Being the home world of the Ultramarines, close to half of the souls wandering within the walls of the Fortress of Hera did not sleep at night. At the same time, the Fortress of Hera was not quite big enough to appear hollow like the Imperial Palace did.

Anivia wore a black cloak. Not the kind that Custodes wore, but something she had commissioned since taking residence on Macragge. It was thicker than the Custodian cloaks and made with more comfortable material. It was also heavy enough to withstand the night time wind.

“Lord Regent, you are not supposed to be on your own,” said a serious voice that nevertheless took care to appear not stern.

“You can pretend that I’m not,” Anivia tilted her head casually at the darkness.

Titus squinted. He could put on his helmet and use the infrared visor, but it felt like admitting defeat. So he stood there for a little longer, until the kind giant with no pride or ego shifted in the shadows, signalling his presence.

“My apologies for the intrusion, my lord,” he bowed. Like any other combat unit, the Regent’s Chosen had its own culture. Titus had yet to fully grasp it.

Anivia looked out from the balcony and did not respond. Titus wasn’t sure if this was his cue to leave.

Just as he was about to excuse himself, Anivia raised a hand and pointed to the lumens in the far away civil residents of Magna Macragge Civitas. “Is it beautiful?” She asked.

“Yes,” Titus answered. His had unconsciously put on a faint smile and softened his voice.

Lights flickered in the distant darkness. Not strong enough to illuminate really anything at all, they appeared indolent. Titus felt like if he just blinked a little harder, all of it would be gone. And yet it was not gone. It was stubbornly brittle. It was brittly stubborn.

It was, indeed, a beautiful sight.

It took Titus a moment to realize that the Regent was observing him with a smile. She had a strange, satisfied look on her face, as if his enjoyment of the scenery was more beautiful than the scenery itself. Titus had a sudden panic that he might be blushing. He hoped that the darkness was able to conceal it from her unaugmented eyes.

Despite his relatively long service history and his reasonably high rank, Titus had not interacted much with non-military personnel. In fact, part of the reason that he was secretly glad of his demotion from Captain to Lieutenant was precisely because of how much non-military matters the Captains of the Ultramarines were asked to do in the new Imperium. He was strategically talented on the battlefield. He would be just as happy commanding a squad as he would following orders. Politics, though, was an entirely different beast.

Then he found himself as a Regent’s Chosen. From the very first moment he had interpreted this as an expression of the most precious kind of trust—though of what he did not know. He was loyal. He would like to think that he was also capable. But he had never thought either his loyalty or his capability exceptional. He would not have given it a moment of thought had the Regent pointed in the direction of the enemy and told him to die over there. He was utterly baffled when she pointed at the distant light and asked if he thought it beautiful.

Of course it was beautiful. It was the Imperium. It was what he was fighting for.

The Regent had turned away from him and was now looking out from the balcony again, but the scenery had lost all of its attraction to Titus now. Instead, he surreptitiously observed her from corner of his eyes.

There was something about the Regent that he really wanted to decipher, though he could not articulate to himself what that was. She had been candid with her subordinates in a way Titus didn’t think possible, and he was sure that she would answer any questions he had if he had only asked them. The problem was that he didn’t know what it was that he wanted to know.

They stood on the balcony for some time longer. As the sky slowly bleached white, Titus realized that he did not hate any of this. Sure, he was taken out of the battlefield and plopped directly into a civil court. The uncertainty was one he had never experienced in his life. Every move he made seemed out of place. Not even the most mundane of conversations made sense to him. He was completely out of his elements.

Yet he did not hate any of this.

Chapter Text

Anivia did not bring any of her adjutants, which meant that the only human who accompanied her on the journey to Sotha was Heinrix.

Heinrix had played his part perfectly. He was reserved but friendly, followed orders, and stayed out of drama. He also inquisitioned, of course, which mainly involved establishing a network of agents on Macragge. His close association with the Imperial Regent presented unique challenges to this work. Although it was not true, most people assumed that he was doing the Regent’s bidding. His threats carried more weight, but it was difficult to gather any intelligence that was critical of the Regent.

It wasn’t like Heinrix was trying to gather criticisms of the Regent. He was just trying to get a greater picture.

The Regent was not keeping secrets from him exactly, but he felt that there was something profoundly important about what she did that he was missing.

He knew she was reforming the Ecclesiarchy, which was an arduous task to say the least. Her approach, however, was rather modest. Heinrix was not an especially judgmental Inquisitor, but even by the standards of some of the most dogmatic people he knew, the Regent’s changes could hardly be described as overstepping.

Her other priority was, as she had declared, to supply the Indomitus Crusade. She was gearing towards sending the first shipment across the Nachmund Gauntlet on the one year mark. So far, she was on track.

Naturally, this left her very little time for anything else. Yet Heinrix could sense that something else was there. Something bigger than the Ecclesiarchy and the Crusade combined.

He was not a diviner, which ironically made him better at detecting the moods and emotions of others because of intentional practice. He believed in his hunches.

Anivia had, as much as she could, stayed out of the internal business of the Astartes. It wasn’t for any special reason. She herself disliked being judged by outsiders, and so she figured it was prudent for her to afford her allies the same level of respect. Though, with Titus’s situation and Guilliman’s absence, it was not clear how long her respectful distance from the Astartes could last.

For similar reasons, Anivia had stayed out of the Martians’ business. Although it was very much what the Martians had also wanted, it was in fact quite challenging to accomplish. Ironically, this was because Anivia had a fairly good rapport with the Mechanicus by carefully rationing the favours she asked of them. As far as it was possible for anyone not of their cult, Anivia was trusted by many Martian priests. This meant that they also sometimes tried to get her to give “outside opinions” about their internal divisions.

It was in contexts such as these that Anivia had heard of the Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl.

If legends were to be believed, Cawl lived for more than ten thousand years, which should not have been possible even for a Mechanicus magos. That alone was enough to rouse both suspicion and veneration.

His success did not help. Cawl claimed credit for the resurrection of the primarch Roboute Guilliman, though Anivia knew that there was at least also Aeldari technology behind it. Still, Cawl would certainly be able to claim credit for the creation of the primaris space marines, and the significance of this achievement could not be understated.

Anivia had never spoken to Cawl. She had seen him from afar when he revealed the primaris project for the first time on Terra, at the announcement of the Indomitus Crusade. She disliked how he forced the freshly-born primaris marines, who had never seen real battlefield, to fight the combat servitors. Many of them died, unable to control the limbs they had never lived with or translate what they learned through hypno-conditioning alone into actual survival.

Anivia disliked it not because it was a waste of resources, but because it was a blatant disregard of everything she held dear—the lives as they were lived, rather than the lives as they could be.

Yet she held her tongue. The arrangement was between the Mechanicus and the Astartes. It was not her place to judge.

“Lord Master Syrren!” The giant said in a surprisingly human voice, “I have heard so much about you, the genius of the Administratum.”

“She is the Imperial Regent now, archmagos,” Felix said in a low voice.

“Is that so?” Said Cawl, “interesting. Do you get along with Roboute?”

“I should hope so,” Anivia said with diplomatic civility. “The pleasure is all mine, archmagos.”

“I have analyzed the inner workings of the Administratum under your rule,” said Cawl. “It is invisible to the untrained eye, but nothing escapes the genius of my mind. There is a logic to your methods of governance. It’s quite remarkable for a baseline human.”

“Cawl,” Felix warned again. Anivia shot him a glance of consolation.

“I will take that as a compliment, archmagos,” said Anivia.

That was enough pleasantries, if only for Felix’s sake. Anivia took charge, “I understand that you have recently arrived at Sotha and are planning to undertake an expedition. Can you give me an overview of your plans?”

“Of course Master—Lord Regent,” it was never easy to tell when a Martian was smiling, but Cawl definitely was. “On this planet is an ancient wonder that goes by the name of Mount Pharos. It is crucial for my great work that I enter the mountain and acquire the knowledge there. Do you intend on accompanying me? It would be a great honour.”

“It is not safe down there, Lord Regent,” said Felix. “Sotha had been ravaged by the Tyranids. We have reasons to believe that some of them are still hiding inside the mountain.”

He looked at Calgar tensely. If Calgar insisted on bringing the Regent to Sotha, Felix would not be able to refuse. He would really prefer that the future of the Imperium did not end on a planet under his domain.

“What is your assessment of the situation, Varro?” Calgar asked the Chief Librarian. If Tigurius had insisted that they go down there, Calgar was going to venture ahead with Felix and cleanse the planet first.

Tigurius looked at Anivia.

Anivia hesitated for a moment. Then, she opened her mouth to speak.

Darkness engulfed them all.

Chapter Text

“Anivia!”

“Anivia, wake up!”

Go away, she wanted to say, but all she did was make grumbling noises.

“Ok, lift her arm up. Yes, like that.”

Small hands propped her body up to dress her. They were not as unobtrusive as they seemed to think. Anivia sighed and opened her eyes.

Her three sisters sat in a circle on her bed, trying to put a robe on her.

“What time is it?” Yawned Anivia, “I didn’t sleep until 2 in the morning because of what Loisa said to that General.”

“I know, and that’s how Lord Aveliza Drachmar is going to become the Grand Provost Marshal,” said her sister. “In 5-year’s time, stupid Echmo will be off of my ass.”

“Why does all of your plotting take such a long time?” Asked Anivia as Stella helped her dress, “next you are going to say that I’ll get rid of Brach in 200 years when he dies of old age.”

She was using the singular “I” to refer to all four of them, as was customary for them to do.

“Change takes time, especially change for the better.” Loisa said in an educational tone, “besides, aren’t you supposed to be the patient one? Or have all the balance sheets and ledgers finally used up your patience?”

“Oh, I know the answer,” giggled Stella. “Remember that time Anivia spent four months fixing the Strategos workflow only to have Loisa replacing all of the Ordinates over night? I really thought Anivia was going to murder you.”

“I tried,” Anivia rolled her eyes. “So, why exactly am I awake now? And when is it anyway?”

That prompted Vella to look at her watch, “oh shoot, I’m running close!” With one sweeping motion she swung Anivia onto her shoulder, still not properly dressed, and they ran.

They ran through the dark corridors until they reached the hanger. When Vella finally put Anivia down, she almost threw up.

She did not make any noise, though. Stella helped her finish dressing. Loisa fixed her own clothing and opened the door.

There was only so much authority that could fit inside the body of a 9-year-old girl, but Loisa wielded it like no other. Every muscle of her body—every hair on her head, every fabric of her clothing—was precisely commanded to communicate the force of her will.

“Is this the 8^th Cadian supply ship? Why is it late?” She demanded.

The officers looked at each other uncertainly, then one of them managed to decipher the sigil on her clothing.

“Lord Syrren, correct?” He said hesitantly, “we are not late, my lord. We are early.”

“Nonsense,” rebuked Loisa, “you are due for departure in 3 hours, and Novion is at least 80 minutes from here, one way.”

“But, but we do not have plans to go to Novion, my lord,” said the officer.

“What?” Snapped Loisa, “you dare to delay the House Brobantis’s orders?”

Anivia winced. The Navigator House Brobantis did not have any operations near Novion. She should have said House Belisarius.

Luckily for Loisa, the officer didn’t know either. He hesitated for a moment and voxed his superiors.

“Ship Master, I have an urgent request from—” he looked at Loisa inquiringly.

“The Lux,” Loisa said. “The Lux of House Syrren.”

Once they securely stationed themselves inside the Ship Master’s office, the other three Lux took off their cloaks and started to giggle.

“Novion is at least 80 minutes from here, one way!” Stella imitated Loisa, poorly. The latter laughed and ran after her to tickle her.

Vella and Anivia discovered a regicide board and started a game.

They never tired of each other’s company.

“Have you seen Alexa Lev Tieron’s new adjutant? She’s so green! Loisa could crush her with a look.”

“Did you figure out what the cause of the famine was on Hive Salvator, Anivia? Can I do something about it?”

“Could you lose to that Commissar next time, Vella? He barged into my Battle Sign class to try to duel me. I swear to the Throne if it happens again I’m sending him straight to Cadia.”

They joked. They gossiped. They planned. They debated politics. They talked about everything.

An alarm went off, and the four girls paused.

“Novion’s shield isn’t going to open because they’re not expecting me,” said Anivia calmly. “Have you planned for how I’m going to land?”

“Of course not,” Loisa replied without hesitation, “you were going to do that.”

Anivia rolled her eyes. She reached for the vox and said, “this is the Lux. Ship Master, patch me through to Novion.”

“What is going on?” The Ship Master asked angrily, “I’ve been told that no navigator has come here in years.”

Loisa took the vox from Anivia’s hand and said in an icy cold tone, “are you questioning me, Ship Master? I said, patch, me, through.”

They were patched through.

“The Lux of House Syrren? What is the meaning of—”

The hive Master’s voice was cut short, replaced by a stern woman, “are you out of your mind, Lux?”

All four girls’ faces soured. They looked at each other momentarily, and Stella took the vox.

“I am fine, thank you for your concern, mother.” She said sarcastically, making the last word sound like an insult. The other three sisters smiled.

“I am going to Novion. We can do it the easy way or we can do it the hard way,” continued Stella. “Give me half a day off and I will get the Exacta situation sorted for you. Or else, we can play a game. You know how much I like playing games with you.”

Although Loisa was designated as the one who dealt with external communication, Stella had always been the one to deal with their parents.

The woman on the other side of the vox took a deep breath and relented. “You have two hours. I will dispatch a shuttle for you. Do not forget your cloaks.”

Anivia did not realize how dark it still was until they left the aircraft. She looked at her watch. It was 5 in the morning. It meant that she must have gotten less than 2 hours of sleep.

“Throne, you still haven’t told me what I’m doing here,” Anivia yawned again. “I still need to prep for Loisa’s party tonight.”

“Oh screw that party, I’ll help you later,” said Vella. She took Anivia’s hand and dragged her forward.

They took the elevator. It was a long journey upward. Anivia almost fell asleep again.

Then they were there.

The door opened, and Terra was before their eyes.

The darkness loomed outside the magnetic dome. Thousands of lumens scattered the landscape. They twinkled and they flickered. They could disappear any moment now. Blink a little harder and they would be gone. Except that they weren’t gone. They were there. They were mesmerizing.

The four sisters walked to the edge of the balcony, enchanted by the Terran lights. Anivia was speechless.

“See, I told you she likes the lights,” Loisa elbowed Stella.

“There, that’s Hive Malliax,” Vella pointed, “they used to be miners, and so kept the tradition of mining lights. The dark spot on the east is the Ural Forges. Their lumens are dimmed for security reasons.”

“In half an hour when the sun rises, we can see the Walking City,” Stella joined in, “I brought visors.”

“Happy birthday, Anivia,” Loisa smiled.

Anivia’s face itched. She touched her cheek and felt her tears.

“You were birthed on the same day,” Anivia said with a tight voice.

“I know,” said Loisa, “but you don’t ever celebrate it.”

“I’m celebrating it with you now,” Anivia whispered.

“That’s good,” said Vella airily, “you know, Anivia, we are proud of you. Have we ever told you this?”

She stopped using the plural “I”.

“I know you are,” Anivia smiled as tears poured down her cheeks. “I can see it in the lights.”

“Do you remember our promise?” said Stella, “every light illuminates a path, a home that awaits its soul, a life that seeks comfort and warmth. What matters is not the lives that could be, but the lives that are lived.”

“They will find their ways. All they need is a chance. All they need is a little hope.”

“I need to go now,” Anivia said suddenly.

“But it’s almost dawn. Look, the sun is coming out. We can see the Walking City.”

Golden beams of light penetrated the clouds in a way that would never occur on actual Terra, engulfing the sparks one by one, colouring the landscape in the shade of fire.

“I need to go,” Anivia insisted. “They are waiting for me.”

She forced herself away from the railings of the balcony. Her sisters’ faces blurred, but she could tell that they were smiling.

How she longed to stay.

“Thank you,” she said as tears fogged her vision, “happy birthday to you, too.”

Chapter Text

The corridor was quiet. It was ancient, with designs that did not belong to the 42^nd Millenium.

The door was cracked open. Before entering, Anivia instinctively touched her cheek. It was dry.

It was a library. Cozily decorated, with human-sized furniture. Even the ceiling was not absurdly tall.

One of its four walls was entirely made of glass windows. Warm afternoon light shone through the silky white curtain.

He sat on a pillow facing the windows. His bare feet stretched comfortably on the blue carpet. Anivia walked up and sat next to him.

He was staring out the window intently and with a faint smile, like he was looking at something preciously entertaining. Anivia traced his gaze. She saw nothing but light.

“You came fast,” said the Emperor. His voice was gentle. He sounded simultaneously youthful and ancient.

“I got what I wanted,” said Anivia.

“You could’ve gotten at least a little bit more,” said the Emperor. “I could’ve shielded you for quite a bit longer.”

“I know,” said Anivia. “But I already have what I wanted.”

“Sometimes I wish you could be greedier,” smiled the Emperor. “You need to learn to want more.”

“I need to be able to protect what I already have,” said Anivia, “and I already have quite a lot.”

“And you are treating them well,” said the Emperor, “I’m glad to see it.”

Anivia shrugged.

“Tell me, do you think I treat them unfairly?” He asked. He sounded like he was genuinely curious, but then again, he always sounded genuine.

“Do you care for my approval? I think you did the best you could,” said Anivia. “I would’ve done things differently, but then again I would’ve probably failed.”

“You might, or you might succeed,” said the Emperor calmly. “The thread of fate is plentiful. Nothing is certain...until it is.”

They sat side-by-side in silence for some time. Then Anivia suddenly asked, “who lied to you?”

The Emperor laughed.

The entire room shook as he laughed. Anivia grabbed onto the carpet for balance.

“You need to learn to enjoy the moment, my anchor,” the Emperor smiled. “That has always been your strength—to value the ephemeral and the evanescent. You need to spare some of that appreciation for yourself.”

Anivia considered his words for a moment. Then she nodded, “I will try. But I still want to know. If I am going to be your anchor, if we are going to be a team, I need to know why you would call me a liar.”

The Emperor’s smile faded, replaced by a gentle, sorrowful expression.

“I do not know,” he said, almost to himself. “I do not remember.”

Anivia sighed. Staring at the Emperor was painful even for her, so she stared out of the window instead.

“I’m going to find out,” she promised.

The Emperor smiled again, “it’s been a long time since someone worried about me. I don’t even remember what it felt like.”

Anivia shrugged, “you can pretend that I’m worried about me.”

“There are many people who worry about you,” said the Emperor. “I don’t think you need to add to it.”

He was being humorous. That caught Anivia off guard.

“Why did you call me here, anyway?” Anivia asked finally, “and why did you call in an audience?”

The Emperor raised his eyebrows, “to celebrate your birthday, of course. A celebration always needs an audience.”

Was this where Guilliman got his love of parades from?

The Emperor was amused either by Anivia’s expression or by her thought. He explained, “on this planet named Sotha, there is a device of Necron origin called the Pharos. One of its powers is to let people relive the past.”

He turned his head and looked at Anivia. His voice was soft, almost paternal, “I understand why you prefer to stay in the shadows, but you can’t do that everywhere. You know you can’t. I thought I’d help you a little.”

Anivia’s lips tightened and she turned away slightly.

“You mean to teach them to rule themselves rather than to lead them directly. An unusual approach but I’ll let you try.” The Emperor continued, “but there will still be things you must do yourself. When the time comes, you need them to trust you.”

“They do trust me,” said Anivia dryly.

“I know,” said the Emperor.

“Is this about the Inquisition?” Asked Anivia.

The Emperor did not answer. He tilted his head as if he heard something from the distance. Anivia also tilted hers but she could hear nothing.

“You must go,” said the Emperor suddenly. “I’ve just made your life a lot more complicated, and now it’s time for them to worry about you.”

Before Anivia could object, she was thrown back into the darkness.

Later she learned that Mount Pharos shook violently, almost as if enraged. The entire planet shook with a dozen earthquakes. They could not stabilize it until the Archmagos Cawl recovered from the communion.

By the time Cawl emerged, the atmosphere of Sotha had become so violent that the tremors could be felt on the orbital station.

It was probably safe enough, but Caslev insisted on evacuating the Regent, so they boarded Calgar’s vessel and moved further away.

As soon as they left, Cawl wanted to go to the Pharos. Felix was then tasked to accompany him, while Calgar took the Regent and her Chosen back to Macragge.

Anivia did not speak for the first few days of the journey.

Part of this was the continued pounding pain of her head. Although the experience itself was much more pleasant than the path of darkness, the sequela was much worse.

Nobody disturbed her. The Regent’s Chosen rotated on watch and fed the Regent according to the Handbook of the Regent’s Chosen.

She mostly stared at the wall. At some point, Heinrix took her to the command deck and seated her in front of the one-way mirror, so she stared at the bustling command bridge.

A faint smile grew over her face.

“Thank you, Inquisitor,” Dragory said in a low voice. Heinrix bowed.

Caslev walked over and sat on the floor next to her. She leaned in his direction and so he leaned over too, until their heads gently touched.

“I can see the beauty,” Caslev whispered softly. “I’m learning to appreciate the ephemerality too.”

Anivia chuckled. “That’s good,” she said noncommittally.

Caslev turned his head to observe her.

“I’ve come to peace with it now,” explained his lord. “You don’t have to do what I do, and you certainly don’t have to do it for the same reason that I do. He is right, you know? As He often is. Sometimes I just need you to trust me.”

“We already trust you,” said Caslev without hesitation.

“I know,” Anivia smiled.

She sat there a moment longer, indulging herself in this peace. Then, she refocused her eyes and said calmly, “come, now. Let us confer with the Lord Defender.”

Chapter Text

Calgar stood from his throne to greet the Regent.

Tigurius was also in the room. He had updated Calgar on the relevant background and they had been in intense discussion of strategy for some time.

They looked at Anivia, waiting for her to command.

Anivia paused for a moment, then tilted her head in a posture that almost looked like embarrassment.

“If I had known that this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have come,” the Regent sighed.

“It is an honour to know that the Emperor guides us through you hand, Lord Regent,” said Calgar. The Regent looked even more embarrassed, almost shy. Calgar suppressed a smile.

“Let’s talk about planning, shall we?” Said the Regent, “I think what He means to tell me is that I’ll need to take charge of the Inquisition. This is going to be tricky because He cannot simply reveal Himself to all of the Inquisitory agents like He did with the Custodes. I suppose I will have to say yes to the High Conclave, but I’d still like to confer with Arx first. Once we get back, I’ll contact her agent directly.”

“I defer to your judgment, Lord Regent,” said Calgar. “There is another matter. Shortly before our departure, I have received a call for reinforcement from the Nachmund system. Captains Ventris and Phelian are taking the 4^th and 5^th Companies there as we speak. Varro insisted that we came to Sotha first and I believe it was a wise decision. Nevertheless, we will need to join them once we ensure your safe arrival on Macragge.”

“I see,” said the Regent. “I do not think it’s necessary that you are present for the Conclave, but I will keep you updated.”

“I appreciate it,” said Calgar. “In the absence of both myself and Agemman, the 2^nd Company will be responsible for the defense of Macragge. I shall dispatch an order to the Master of the Watch to put him under your direct command.”

Honestly speaking, Anivia would really rather not. By the rule of the Codex Astartes, the Captain of the 2^nd Company was also the Master of the Watch, responsible for defence and threat-assessment of the Chapter’s homeworld. Since Guilliman’s resurrection, Macragge had become the generic congregation location for Astartes Chapters interested in joining the Crusade. This meant that it had very little need for additional defence forces. The 2^nd Company had thus spent most of their time elsewhere in Ultramar and very little time doing bureaucracy.

The point was that the 2^nd Company had both the ability and the authority to defend Macragge as an autonomous unit. They did not need an additional commander, and certainly not one who was not military herself.

Before she could decline the offer, Calgar continued, “Captain Acheran has participated in both the Fourth Tyranic War and the War of Nightmares. I believe his perspective as an Astartes commander who has faced both the threat of xenos and the threat of chaos will be valuable to you.”

Ok, fine, that was an offer too good to turn down.

Anivia lowered her head slightly, “I thank you for your consideration, Chapter Master.”

“There is something else that deserves your attention,” said Calgar. He took a dataslate on his desk and handed it over to Anivia. “Before Lord Guilliman’s departure, he had ordered me to compile a number of reports on several planets that are close to Macragge. He did not explain his intentions, stating only that I would know what to do with them once the time comes. I believe that the time has now come.”

Anivia took the dataslate and browsed the reports. Her eyes lit up as she did so.

They were medium-scale, self-sufficient, relatively culturally independent planets of Ultramar. They had contributed little to, but also demanded little from, the Imperium. Nevertheless, they were loyal to Ultramar. They were perfect testing grounds for social experimentation.

Anivia could already see what kind of new Schola she was going to build and where she would send the Ecclesiarchy priests to try out the new doctrines.

Calgar did not manage to hide his smile this time.

“We trust you, Lord Regent,” he said.

The problem with trust was that it was not transitive.

Captain Acheran obviously trusted Calgar, and Calgar just pledged his loyalty to Anivia. However, this did not mean that Acheran was going to trust Anivia in the same way.

“He, did, what?”

“My lord, calm yourself,” Nora took a deep bow, “I have already informed the orbital station to ignore Captain Acheran’s command. By my calculation, the resulting 2-week delay of the 8^th Cadian regimen’s arrival will not significantly increase their casualty.”

“But who does that?” Anivia raised her voice, “they are coming here for medical aid and resupply, for Throne’s sake. In what world does that warrant quarantine?”

“Their battleship was lost in warp storm for—”

“—I know what Acheran’s reasoning is,” Anivia interrupted Nora. She rarely interrupted people. Nora exchanged a nervous glance with Teka, the latter snuck out of the room to fetch a backup.

“And what on Terra is this report?” Anivia continued, “who cares how many Tyranid fleets they killed last year? Am I supposed to give them a medal to repair their suits?”

It’s the same comprehensive report they give to all departments, my lord. Most people do not understand the value of compartmentalizing reports. Nora decided to not voice her reply out loud.

“And all they ever ask for is bolts! Do they eat bolts for dinner? Do they use bolts to plug their wound? Aren’t they Ultramarines? Is this what the freaking Codex says?”

Anivia tapped her desk so hard she hurt her finger. So, when Teka brought Titus back to the office, Anivia was awkwardly rubbing her finger and wincing in pain.

“Are you alright my lord?” Teka asked, “did you hurt yourself?”

He was asking out of genuine concern, but she rolled her eyes anyway.

“Why are you here?” She asked Titus. He had never heard her speak with such an aggressive tone before, but with her lack of physical threat and the fact that she had just hurt her finger tapping a desk, it was difficult to find her intimidating rather than charming.

“I have served under Captain Acheran on Avarax,” explained Titus calmly, “Teka believes I may be of service to you.”

Anivia stared at him for a couple of seconds before remembering that Titus had been with the 2^nd company both before and after his capture by Thrax.

She was not going to lie—throwing Titus at Acheran was a tempting offer.

So far, Anivia had only really interacted with space marines who had spent a substantive amount of time around mortal bureaucrats. This was true of all of the Imperial Fists around the Terran Palace and it was true of most of the Captains on Guilliman’s ship. Even if they disliked mortal politics, they had learned that it was easier to go through the motions than to object. It also helped that, although Anivia had interacted with quite a few Astartes already, she had always done so under a separate command structure. They helped each other by doing distinct, if complementary, tasks. It was easy to stay out of each other’s way.

Neither of these was true with Acheran. According to his service record, he was promoted to Captain very recently when the previous Captain, Cato Sicarius, was recruited for Guilliman’s Victrix Guard. Upon his promotion, Acheran was immediately thrown into the Fourth Tyranid War. As far as Anivia could tell, Acheran had never spent any real time doing bureaucracy at all, let alone with humans. In fact, this might have been the first time he had left the war zone since his promotion. And immediately he was placed under the command of a human bureaucrat who had no war experience but a lot of opinions about how Macragge ought to be run. Before they even met, she had blocked his standard planetary security protocols. He was probably more pissed right now than Anivia was.

It was tempting to have Titus do the talking, if not as a relay, at least as a translator.

But Anivia, of course, knew that she couldn’t do this. Titus was Captain for much longer than Acheran. They only promoted Sicarius to replace Titus because no one could figure out what happened to him. If Titus insisted, there was a decent chance that he would’ve been able to get his Company back from Acheran. He was more experienced, with more honours, and still had a legitimate claim. He evidently did not insist. But the dynamic between them would never be the same as between just any Captain and his Lieutenant. Compounded by the fact that Titus was then instituted as a Regent’s Chosen by the primarch himself, it didn’t matter what Acheran truly thought of Titus. If all of Anivia’s experience with the space marines taught her anything about them, it was that they were proud. They might be immune to many other follies of human nature, but they were not immune to pride.

Anivia observed Titus for a moment. Was he oblivious to the awkwardness of this situation? Was he confident that he could handle Acheran’s ego and the other battle brothers’ prejudice?

Titus looked back at her phlegmatically. His version of stoicism was subtly different from Valoris’s. Valoris was apathetic. He did not show emotions because he did not have any. He did not care about most things that were happening around him. Titus, on the other hand, wore his stoicism like he wore his armour. It was simply how he faced the world. He hid his emotions from allies just like he hid his weaknesses from enemies. It was not out of fear or distrust. It was simply how he lived his life.

He knew his intervention would be thorny and he did not think he would be able to smooth the spikes, but his own discomfort was never part of the calculation. There was something he could do to serve, so he was going to do it.

“Sure,” Anivia said calmly. “You, Adrasta, and Pio will be on guard duty until I manage to convince Captain Acheran that I’m not stupid.”

Chapter Text

Anivia was being truthful when she told Leandros that she didn’t pull rank often. This surprised Titus.

She could’ve just told Acheran to obey orders and Acheran would’ve conceded without making another noise. Instead, however, Anivia explained her reasoning for quarantining the Cadians on the ground rather than at orbit, which invited Acheran to present his reasoning. Acheran didn’t have much experience talking to mortal diplomats, but he was an Ultramarine. It was in his gene-code to reason and to plan.

Because of this, something that might have only taken two sentences of stern discipline ended up taking the entire morning of discussion and debate.

Anivia was utterly exhausted by lunch time.

Acheran was not rude. He observed rank like any other Ultramarines did. But he was not thinking in the way that administrators did and he was not used to debating civil matters with reason and evidence. Anivia, on the other hand, had not had to explain herself this thoroughly for quite some time. After becoming the Master of the Administratum, she spent the first couple of years instituting a culture of information exchange that was as efficient as the colossal Palace machinery allowed. Since then, anyone freshly joining her court was quickly brought up-to-date by her subordinates.

Anivia had sent Teka, Nora, and Heinrix away to deal with other matters, which meant that the only human present, other than herself, was the Rogue Trader Yassilli Sulymanya, who was here in her capacity as a Historitor to take notes. Although Anivia didn’t know what was historically noteworthy about a standard planning meeting with a Company Captain, she was too tired to ask. She was also secretly very glad to have another person who was not genetically engineered to kill things present in the room.

Other than the two of them, everyone else in the room was an Ultramarine. Anivia didn’t think that Acheran would’ve appreciated it if she brough in a Custodian and a Grey Knight to observe them debate Macragge governance. As it was, the morning was reasonably successful.

“Lord Regent, are you alright?” Yassilli asked Anivia over lunch, with an expression that was somewhere between concern and amusement.

Anivia sighed, “last time I trained a Master was 12 years ago.” Throne, she missed Sulachana.

“It was impeccably done, my lord,” Yassilli said truthfully, “I did not believe it was possible for mortals to convince space marines of anything, let alone matters of state governance.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Yassilli realized that the three Ultramarines of the Regent’s Chosen were still in the room. She quickly glanced at them. To her relief, none of them took offense. In fact, they seemed to agree with her.

“It is a strength that Captain Acheran has a different perspective than I do,” Anivia said diplomatically. “He is a war veteran. He is also from Macragge. I am neither.”

“What is Terra like, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Anivia shrugged, “Terra is a planet. Some places are beautiful and others are ugly. I don’t venture from the Palace very often. You are a Rogue Trader. How much does your own experience reflect the state of your dynasty?”

“Not at all,” answered Yassilli. “My House is not the most powerful Rogue Trader House in the entire Imperium but it has a proud history and a sizable holding. Too many people want too many things from me. I never for a second think that my life bears any resemblance with theirs.”

“Then you understand,” Anivia smiled. “I was lucky in that I haven’t had to spend much thought fighting for my power. I was not groomed to be a ruler. But still, very few Terrans live lives that are comparable to mine.”

“I am the same way,” said Yassilli. “My predecessor’s entire family perished in a warp storm so I was handed the title. I never thought I was going to be a Rogue Trader. But—it has been fun. I haven’t died yet, which is a miracle considering what I’ve done, if I believed in miracles, that is.”

Anivia knew that Yassilli did not believe in the Imperial creed, which led to her almost being burned as a heretic despite her elevated stature as a Rogue Trader. Guilliman saved her and put her in the Logos Historica Verita. He never said this to Anivia, but Anivia suspected that Guilliman had put Yassilli as the Regent’s liaison as a protection. Although most members of the Logos were handpicked by Guilliman, he could not afford to have only nonbelievers—there were simply not enough of them. And Yassilli was not shy about her non-belief.

Anivia liked Yassilli. She had a liveliness that reminded her of Sulachana. Moreover, although her family was quite powerful, Yassilli did not have any of the uptight properness that were entrenched in the bones of every Terran nobility. Not even Sulachana escaped it.

“I’m glad you have been enjoying your assignment,” said Anivia. “It is dangerous, but you seem to be the right person for the job.”

“You think so?” Anivia’s remark seemed to have brought up amusing memories. Yassilli smiled, “when I told Lord Guilliman that I found it fun, he said that he had never appreciated fun as a motivation for action.”

Anivia chuckled, “I can see that.”

“Fun and duty do not preclude each other, you know,” Yassilli mused. “Surely it’s always good when one can find enjoyment in service.”

“It’s often good,” Anivia half agreed. It might not be very good if one’s service primarily revolved around killing things, though she decided not to voice this thought.

“Anivia—can I call you Anivia?” Yassilli said suddenly.

During the Crusade, I met a rogue trader who reminded me that my name was not ‘my lord’. I’ve rather grown fond of this fact. Guilliman had said to her.

Anivia stared at Yassilli for a few seconds and laughed.

“Are you the Rogue Trader who got it into Lord Guilliman’s head that people ought to call him Roboute sometimes?” Anivia almost choked on the water she was drinking, “do you know how much anxiety this has caused Tetrarch Felix?”

Yassilli took a moment to comprehend her words and laughed too, her voice much more carefree than Anivia’s.

“Yes, you can call me Anivia,” said Anivia. “In fact, anyone can call me Anivia. I don’t especially care for titles.”

That made Yassilli curious. “Do you not find it impertinent?” She asked.

“No,” Anivia shrugged. “My last name has always been more of a liability than a source of power. No one else bearing it is still alive anyway. Besides, House titles do not mean anything in the Imperial Palace.”

She probably didn’t mean it this way, but that was definitely a humble brag, thought Yassilli, who just remembered that she was talking to the Imperial Regent, who had also been a High Lord of Terra for most of her service years.

It was a disorienting thought. All of the previous Imperial Regents had been mythical figures: Malcador the Hero, then Guilliman himself, the legendary Imperial Fist Chapter Master Maximus Thane, then Guilliman again. The Lord Anivia Lux Syrren might have been legendary to some, but she was not mythical. She was so…personable. So likeable. Someone that Yassilli wanted to befriend, just like how she wanted to befriend Guilliman.

There was something remarkably similar between the demigod primarch and the baseline human Regent, Yassilli realized. They were both bringers of miracles, one on the battlefield and the other in the civil court. They accomplished feats that others thought impossible as a matter of course.

They had no need for the awe and veneration that they couldn’t help but inspire. It was easy to be attracted by them both ideologically and personally, to want to get close to them, to take their vision as one’s own, to want to follow their path, to believe them more than one believed oneself. And with a little courage, it did not seem impossible. They were like blackholes. The closer one got, the stronger one felt the pull. With a little courage, with a little bit more courage, it was easy to think it was possible to touch them. But if one kept doing this for some time, one would eventually realize that they were not made to be touched. They were not made to be embraced. Light was not made to be embraced. But it was still all so tempting.

I have killed many people with honour in the past, Guilliman had said to Yassilli once. He probably didn’t intend it this way but Yassilli understood those people instantly. She would happily give up her life if it could lessen but a fraction of his burden. Even if he would’ve valued her life for more, she would’ve done it gladly. The Regent was like him in that way. She inspired that kind of devotion in people, even if she did not intend to.

Yassilli couldn’t help but glanced at the three Ultramarine guards who had been eating their lunch quietly on the other side of the table. She could see the determination in their eyes as the Regent’s light pulled at their souls. She could see that none of them planned to give up chasing it just yet. And if she understood anything about the space marines, it was that they would never give up chasing it.

Anivia’s attention span was longer than all of the humans she had ever met, but it was still not quite as long as the gene-enhanced supersoldiers.

Generally speaking, she made up for this by being extra efficient and exhausting the meeting agenda before running out of energy, but the governance of Macragge was unfortunately not exhaustible in a single morning, no matter how efficient she was. Consequently, although Acheran was happy to resume after lunch, Anivia was forced to admit defeat and requesting a recess.

She went for a walk along the city walls. One benefit that came out of her excursion to Sotha was that the people surrounding her had learned of her fondness of high places, and had thus made it very easy for her to take a walk on the walls.

Titus hesitated.

Anivia walked slowly. Slow even in comparison to other baseline humans, and painfully slow in comparison to what was comfortable for Astartes. All of the superhumans in her Chosen had learned to walk in a strange rhythm that almost looked like slow motion. Titus was just beginning to adopt this practice.

He had been wanting to know something and he finally thought he might have figured out what it was. He wanted to ask her a question, but he did not know whether it was appropriate.

It was not exactly the prospect of offending her that gave him pause—he had understood by this point that Anivia was not easily offended. It was the prospect of not hearing the answer that he wanted to hear, although he also couldn’t quite put his fingers on what answer he did want from her.

Titus hesitated. Anivia was half an Astartes-step ahead of him. She was so close that he could simply raise his arm and touch her shoulder. Yet she was so far away that it was like he would never be able to touch her at all. Not for real.

But with a little bit more courage, perhaps...

“My lord,” Titus heard himself speaking, “may I ask you something?”

“Hm? Sure.” Anivia stopped. She hopped up and sat on the guarding wall and Titus instinctively moved closer so he would be able to catch her if she lost her balance. The other two Ultramarines on duty—Adrasta and Pio—stood back to give them some space.

Titus was about to speak when he suddenly realized how close they were. The guarding wall was tall enough that Anivia’s eyes were at level with his. She was looking at him inquisitively. He could almost see his reflection in her silver eyes.

Titus could swear that one of his hearts had just stopped. Perhaps this was why they gave him two.

“Why me?” He heard himself asking. He hoped the tremble in his voice was not as obvious to others as it was to himself.

“Hm?” Anivia tilted her head a little, “isn’t that a question for Lord Guilliman? I wasn’t the one who chose you.”

Titus did not respond. Anivia looked at him for a moment and realized he was serious. She gathered her smile and turned her gaze to the distance.

“There are many reasons,” she said almost absent-mindedly, “I just sent one of my primaris to Terra, possibly for good, and am in need of a replacement. You have proven your loyalty beyond unreasonable doubt. You are a veteran of many wars and have many honours under your name. Coincidentally, it is also quite convenient if you can be absent from the 2^nd Company for some time on an assignment that cannot be construed as punitive. I trust that none of these reasons surprises you.”

She was right; he understood all of these reasons. So what was he asking, exactly?

“These are Lord Guilliman’s reasons,” he said, almost defiantly. “What are yours?”

Anivia turned her gaze back at him in surprise. For a brief moment, all he could hear was the sound of his own blood pumping through his veins. If one of his hearts stopped and the other one exploded, two hearts were clearly not enough hearts to ask the Regent a question with, thought Titus.

Titus is very good at masking his nerve, thought Anivia.

If they were not this physically close, she would not have noticed how controlled his breathing was. If she had not been surrounded by superhumans 24/7 for more than a year now, she would not have known that even their breathing was not meant to be this controlled.

She studied him closely, noticing the gradual tensing of every muscle in his body as he willed himself to not look away. There was something familiar in the way he looked at her. She had seen it before. She had seen it on...Valoris.

Anivia raised her hand and gently touched the side of Titus’s face. He instinctively tilted his head to lean into it. Then he realized what he just did and froze.

Anivia sighed quietly.

Titus searched her expression almost desperately for any sign of disapproval, forgetting that she was the one who reached out first. All he did was stand there, and yet even that felt like a transgression.

“I don’t have a lot to offer, Demetrian,” she said in a low voice. There was a faint sorrow in her expression, like she was apologetic for his feelings. For not noticing it sooner. For not able to reciprocate it in full.

“I, I do not need—” his almost jabbered proclamation halted when she moved a finger over his mouth to silence him. Half of his brain was still scrambling to find a coherent way of saying that he didn’t need her reciprocation. The other half was focused entirely on the nerve ends of his lips.

“I chose you because you are a good man, Demetrian.” Anivia said as she stared into his eyes, “because I like you. I enjoy having you around.”

Titus blinked. His mind went completely blank.

Anivia drew back her finger, lifted her hand and gently rustled his hair.

“I might still have a little bit left to give,” she smiled faintly.

Then, she hopped off the wall, and continued walking.

With a little bit of courage, thought Titus. He just needed a little bit more courage.

Chapter Text

“Um, what am I looking at?”

Anivia leaned back in her seat so much that she almost fell off her chair. It was still not enough to take in the full floor-to-ceiling hologram that Acheran had decided was necessary.

It had been two days since their last meeting, which apparently was enough time for Acheran to decide that 1) Anivia was trustworthy, 2) Anivia was omniscient, and 3) Anivia had valuable contributions to make about just about everything in the Imperium.

“A complete and updated representation of the planetary defence formations around Macragge, Lord Regent,” Acheran said almost excitedly. “I have studied the new supply networks you have developed for Ultramar closely and I believe that there are several strategic modifications my Company can make to extend the defence power for Macragge and its nearby systems, thus freeing up more forces to support Tetrarch Agemman.”

Ok, good, why do I need to know this though?

Anivia considered the option of voicing her true opinion and leaving the meeting then and there. She took a quick glance at Acheran’s team. He had brought quite a few people with him today, including that Chaplain, Leandros. At least one sergeant seemed to know Titus well and gave him a warm smile. At least one other sergeant eyed Titus suspiciously and, possibly, enviously.

Anivia weighed her options. Acheran clearly had the wrong understanding of the division of labour between Anivia and the Ultramarines. It wasn’t his fault. What Anivia was doing now used to be done entirely by the space marines themselves, and so it was easy to think that, now that she was in charge of military supply, she was at least knowledgeable of strategy too. It was an easy misunderstanding to clarify.

On the other hand, she did have the time to spare—she was going to take the day off and tour Yassilli’s Rogue Trader ship. She also had things to offer—although she was not a military strategist, Anivia always had things to offer when it involved the moving of cargo (in this case, soldiers) and the transmission of information (or battle intels). It would not hurt to hear how they thought about such things, either.

More importantly, she could do something about that weirdly obsessive, but apparently not heretical, Chaplain. She did just tell Titus that she could still give him something. At the very least, Guilliman would be appreciative.

“Ok,” Anivia suppressed a sigh and took out her stylus, “what would you like my opinion on?”

The Regent was a strange person. This was Acheran’s verdict.

He had expected her to be a clueless mortal administrator just like all the other nonmilitary baseline humans he had interacted with. He was proven wrong in the first five minutes of their interaction. The efficiency and the soundness of her way of thinking was almost intimidating. Her willingness to convince subordinates using reason and evidence instead of authority was as refreshing as it was confusing. His opinion of her quickly transitioned from contempt to respect, then to admiration, and finally to awe.

He had not slept in the past two days so he could study the new logistical system she had instituted since arriving in Ultramar. This had prompted him to adjust his own strategies. He had devised a plan for her approval. He would’ve needed her approval anyway because of Calgar’s orders, but more importantly, he wanted her approval. Like a pupil wanted to impress a master.

Acheran realized only after he had arranged the meeting that she might not be interested in the details. It was unusual for plans such as this to be presented rather than simply approved. He had hoped to have this meeting as a training session for his Company. With Guilliman’s resurrection, space marines were expected to take on more governing tasks and to collaborate more closely with human administrators. Acheran’s Company had been slow in its adjustment because of their preoccupation with the 4^th Tyranic War. Now that they had the opportunity to work with the Regent directly, who seemed especially skilled in the craft of training, Acheran was hoping to seize this opportunity for his men.

It was difficult to tell how enthusiastic the Regent was at the idea. She was reasonably good at controlling her facial expression but not good enough to fool the biologically enhanced perceptual ability of an Astartes. There were times where Acheran could swear that she looked daunted by the task, and she had more than once unconsciously eyed the door.

Nevertheless, when she did speak, she was as patient as ever. She listened to his descriptions and, like how a seasoned hunter struck the heart of a pray with deadly precision, she would ask the most central question around which the entire plan would unravel. She would then methodically reason through the logical consequences so that the options, risks, and the correct path were revealed to them, plain as the morning sun. There was a strange beauty in her method that, perhaps, only a space marine of Guilliman’s line would appreciate.

Yet, throughout all this, she was not enthusiastic. She did not seem to derive any pleasure from the planning or the training. She was not trying to gain a favour—indeed, there was no favour they could’ve given her. It was also, strictly speaking, not part of her duty. So the question really was: why was she doing this?

An hour into the meeting, Acheran had formed a hypothsis.

“Titus, can you translate what Captain Acheran just said to me?” Anivia blinked blankly at the string of military jargon Acheran just unleashed upon her.

“According to the Codex, the 10^th company trains neophytes,” explained Titus. “It is important for neophytes to gain first-hand battle experience. This is usually done through scouting missions to minimize casualty. Captain Acheran would like to incorporate the distribution of neophyte scouts into the Ultrama war supply system.”

“Thank you,” said Anivia, turning back to Acheran. “Ok, so this is why you suggested a meeting with Tetrarch Felix.”

Their discussion continued, yet Acheran could not shake this thought.

She did not include Titus in any of the discussions during the previous meeting, he remembered, even though, as is evident from today, doing so would’ve greatly lessened her own cognitive load.

On Acheran’s part, he must admit that not having Titus speak in the previous meeting was a wise decision. He was still hostile to the whole idea of a human bureaucrat from Terra taking charge of Macragge. Having one of his Lieutenants speaking on her behalf would’ve only increased his resentment. His outlook had entirely changed now, of course, but everyone else he had brought with him was meeting the Regent for the first time. Did she not worry that they would take her for a fool for having to have someone “translate” the Captain’s speech? He supposed his men were no fools themselves and could see her abilities for themselves soon enough. But did she not worry that they would consider Titus as someone who had turned his back to the battlefield in favour of comfort and status, like she evidently worried that Acheran might?

More interestingly, in the last meeting, the Regent had brought three Ultramarines as guards. Acheran did not think much at the time as he expected her to have Ultramarine guards on Macragge. He later learned that they were part of the Regent’s Chosen, most of whom were not Ultramarines. He immediately understood the political gesture behind the choice and appreciated it. However, other than Titus, this time she brought a Custodian and a Sister of Silence.

Theoretical: the Regent was, subtly but forcifully, showing off her authority. Not to Acheran—but to whom? And for what purpose?

Acheran refocused himself. Space marines were designed to be able to follow multiple trains of thoughts at the same time, yet Acheran had soon discovered that he needed to engage all channels of his thoughts simultaneously in order to fully meet the Regent’s expectation.

After two hours of meeting, Anivia called for a recess.

She invited them all to the next room, which already had a long table full of food and drink on it.

It wasn’t even noon and Anivia was starved out of her mind. She ate as gracefully as she could. Luckily, no one in the room was high-class enough to judge her. Except perhaps Caslev, but he wouldn’t have batted an eye if Anivia sat on the floor and chomped on a bone with her hands.

Two of Acheran’s soldiers came over to greet Titus. One was a Sergeant named Gadriel. The other was introduced as Chairon.

“We fought under Lieutenant Titus’s command on Avarax,” explained Gadriel. “It was an honour.”

Titus allowed himself a faint smile, “the honour is mine, brothers.” Chairon grinned and patted Titus on the shoulder.

Anivia noticed that Chairon was a standard battle brother. He was the only one here who was not at least a sergeant.

She looked up at Acheran, who was half talking to the Chaplain and half observing them through the corner of his eyes.

He had brought Titus’s old comrades as a friendly gesture to her. He was sharp. She was impressed.

Anivia raised her glass at Acheran slightly, signalling her appreciation for his efforts. Acheran seemed a little caught off guard by how quickly she saw through it all, but he gave a gentle bow.

She turned her attention back to find the three space marines looking at her curiously. It was difficult to do anything subtly in front of space marines.

“Your Captain is interesting,” mused Anivia. “I understand that he hasn’t been in this position for long?”

“That is true,” said Gadriel, “but he leads well.”

A quick glance at him was enough to inform Anivia that he did not know of Titus’s past. Not the full story, at least. Titus played his cards close.

“Is he talking to the Chaplain?” Anivia said casually, ignoring Titus’s sudden tensing at the mention. “How do you find him?”

“He is...good?” Gadriel was a little confused by the question but answered honestly nonetheless, “he is strict with the rules, but he is a good servant of the Emperor.”

“I’m sure he is.” Anivia gave a smile that sent chills down the spines of the three space marines. She tilted her head slightly, “now, Titus, why don’t you stay here and catch up with your battle brothers? Please excuse me, soldiers.”

With that, she set her drink on the table, and walked toward the Chaplain.

Chapter Text

“Um, are you okay, brother?” Chairon leaned forward and asked in a whisper. Titus did not respond. The entirety of his being was focused on the Regent, as she slowly walked past the other Ultramarines and joined Acheran and Leandros.

It was perhaps a small consolation that Leandros seemed just as tense as Titus was.

Gadriel and Chairon exchanged a glance. The three space marines that were supposed to be catching up now stood in silence, straining their superhuman senses to the extreme, so that they could eavesdrop on their lords.

“Lord Regent,” Acheran greeted Anivia with a bow. “May I introduce the Chaplain of our Company to you? Brother Leandros. He has served with the Company for a long time.”

“It is good to see you again, Chaplain,” Anivia smiled. “I’m glad to have you join us today.”

Leandros seemed startled by her comment. His lips tightened, and he bowed slightly.

“If my understanding is not mistaken, the Chaplain is responsible for guiding the brothers in the righteous path.” Anivia said in a tone that was almost gentle, “your burden must be heavy.”

“The primarch guides us,” Leandros said grimly. “If we follow his Codex faithfully, we will never falter.”

“Ah, the Codex,” Anivia’s smile deepened. “Your trust in Lord Guilliman is admirable.”

“It is the duty of every Ultramarine to trust his primarch,” said Leandros, unsure where this was going.

“I’m sure Lord Guilliman is delighted by your faith in him,” said Anivia, “just as he has faith in all of you.”

This comment caught Leandros off guard and he was momentarily speechless. It had never occurred to him that the primarch would have faith in his sons—though, of course, once the thought had formulated itself, it was obvious that it must be true.

Although it had been more than two decades since Guilliman’s resurrection, the idea that the primarch was now alive had not sunk in for Leandros. He had not had the honour of meeting the primarch. He had seen vid-feeds of Guilliman giving speeches at ceremonies, but it felt not very different from how he used to hear tales about the Great Crusade. The thought that Guilliman was acting and having opinions about things was entirely foreign to him. The thought that Guilliman was more than the book that he had so diligently memorized was foreign to him.

Acheran hid his surprise.

His hypothesis had been that the Regent was here for Titus’s sake. Although he had not known her for long, he had seen enough sergeants and commanders to tell when a leader was the kind that protected her own. As a Company Captain, Acheran understood the instinct. He had brought Chairon and Gadriel here to signal his respect for this.

He now realized that this was not the reason—not the only reason, at least. The Regent was here for...the Chaplain.

Acheran observed the Chaplain from the corner of his eyes. As far as Acheran was concerned, Leandros was a decent Chaplain. A stickler for rules, but not surprisingly so for a Chaplain and a son of Guilliman. Acheran knew that Leandros had a history with Titus that was probably not entirely friendly, but he did not know more than that. Both battle brothers had proven themselves capable and loyal. That was enough for him.

Anivia left enough silence for Leandros to fully feel the weight of her words but not enough for him to recover.

“Tell me, Chaplain. Do you enjoy your work?” She asked in a tone that almost sounded innocent.

“I—” Leandros could not quite resist the urge and stole a quick glance at the door. Too quick, Acheran suspected, for the unaugmented Regent to catch. “I serve my duty as the Emperor and the primarch will it, Lord Regent.”

“Admirable,” the Regent said noncommittally and turned to Acheran, “Captain Acheran, I hear that your company had been in war for the past decade. It must have been quite a change to come back to Macragge.”

Acheran hesitated. He could see that it was in equal part a signal of trust and a test, though he was not entirely sure what role she was expecting him to play.

“Civil management presents a different set of challenges than the battlefield,” Acheran decided to simply be honest. “But as the primarch has taught us, both are equally important for the Imperium, and so we must be ready to serve in both capacities.”

He did not know whether he had met her expectations with this answer, but he did not think she was disappointed.

She smiled at him and opened her mouth to speak again, when—

Something happened. Her vox link flashed. It ought to have been closed to all but the most urgent messages.

For a short moment, the Regent froze and her face turned ashen. Then, she turned around abruptly and met the gaze of her Custodian guard.

“Please excuse me,” she said, to no one in particular. With the three Chosen in tow, she almost stumbled out of the room.

Acheran pulled out his own dataslate and skimmed the latest alerts. He immediately found what he was looking for.

Emergency: crush landing of Custodian voidship. Damage level: severe. Requesting immediate medicae support.

Anivia ran down the corridor.

“Caslev!” She shouted as he caught up. The Custodian lifted her up into his arms and broke into a run. He was so fast that not even Titus’s primaris physique was enough to catch up.

“They are transferring him to the 4^th medicae bunker,” Nora reported through vox.

A moment later, Nora updated, “correction: there are five injured Custodians onboard in total, occupying bunkers 4 and 5. The Captain is transferred to bunker 4.”

“Is there an identification?” Asked Teka. He sounded out of breath, possibly also running.

“Negative,” said Nora. “There are also 12 severely wounded Astartes onboard. Now is not a good time to press for information.”

“What about casualties?” Asked Anivia. Although she wasn’t running for herself now, her voice was still shaking.

“Unclear,” said Nora. “There is at least one Astartes casualty. Nothing else is known.”

Anivia knew that the lack of apparent casualties didn’t mean anything. Space marines needed to preserve the bodies of their fallen as much as they could so their gene-seed could be harvested. There was no such need for Custodians. It was not uncommon for them to simply bury their dead on the battlefield.

She should really have more faith in him, Anivia thought. He was the Emperor’s champion. It did not matter if stronger warriors had perished before. For all she knew, it might not have been him at all. And even if it was, Macragge had the best medicae team in all of Ultramar. It did not matter if they had little experience treating Custodes.

All she could do was holding on to Caslev as he ran.

Chapter Text

It was not Valoris.

When Anivia received the confirmation, she had been waiting in the medicae command office for two hours. Apothecaries and Mechanical priests dashed in and out of the bunkers. Anivia let them work in peace. In fact, she had suppressed inquiries from all channels that did not contribute to the healing activities.

Two hours later, Caslev was finally allowed to examine the voidship. He soon reported back through vox that the ship belonged to Shield-Captain Valerian, who had left Terra before Anivia became Regent.

Anivia exhaled deeply and leaned against the wall. She suddenly realized how tired she was. She had been standing for two hours.

“Medicae has just confirmed that all Custodians are stable,” Nora updated them through vox. “We unfortunately did lose one of the Astartes.”

Because of their superior healing capabilities, being stable meant that they would recover with almost certainty. Anivia closed her eyes, rubbed her temples, and restarted her brain.

Anivia took out her dataslate to start planning for the investigation and containment of the voidship, only to discover that almost everything she was going to do was already under way. She then realized how quiet it was around her. Other than Sisters Ashel and Gwenyth who were guarding the door, the only other person present was Titus. Everyone else had been dispatched by Teka and Nora on errands.

She was glad that Titus was here. He had a calming presence rivalled that of Caslev. It also helped that he didn't yet know Valoris. Though Anivia did wonder who had decided he should stay.

“You should sit down, my lord,” said Titus. “Would you like to eat something?”

“That would be great,” said Anivia as she sunk into the armchair. It was even more comfortable than it looked. She wondered why she didn’t sit down sooner.

Titus opened the door and signalled to the serfs outside. They brought in some food. Importantly, they brought a cup of hot milk.

“Teka’s handbook really is doing wonders for my life,” Anivia smiled. “I could get used to this.”

“It pleases us all to see you well, my lord,” said Titus in a serious tone. Anivia chuckled.

“I’m sorry that you have to see me this way,” she said calmly as she began to eat. “It must’ve been disorienting to you. Basically, I thought it was Captain-General Valoris’s ship, returning from Terra.”

Titus nodded. He gathered as much, but he still appreciated her explanation.

He observed Anivia for a moment and asked gently, “do you worry about him?”

“Yes,” Anivia answered without hesitation. Then she sighed, “I know it’s silly. He is strong, and he is serving the Emperor. Worrying is futile.”

Titus did not contradict her. He thought on it for a while, and asked in an even gentler tone, “is he important to you, my lord?”

Of course he’s important to me; he’s important to the Imperium. Before she blurted out this answer, a sudden insight hit her. She paused and looked up at Titus. He had a soft expression. His eyes were fixated on hers. She suddenly understood what he was asking.

“Yes, Demetrian,” she said. “He is very important to me.”

“I look forward to meeting him then.” Titus said with a faint smile.

Because Anivia had ordered in no uncertain terms that she be alerted as soon as the Shield-Captain was in a condition to speak, she was begrudgingly woken up at 2 o’clock in the morning.

She got up immediately, got dressed with her eyes closed, and almost walked into a wall. She was stopped by an amused Dragory.

“Shall we carry you there, my lord?”

Anivia rolled her eyes but wasn’t really able to voice a verbal response. Instead, she simply walked past him.

Because she chose to walk there on her own, by the time she got there (with Dragory and Caslev in tow), Acheran had already finished the initial debriefing.

“Master Syrren!” Valerian called out in genuine delight. Then he bowed his head and said in a more serene voice, “my lord.”

It seemed like the Emperor really had reached all of them. That was quite efficient. Anivia wondered if he was doing this for her sake or for the Custodes’ sake.

“Shield-Captain,” Anivia smiled. “It is good to see you again. Have you updated Captain Acheran on the situation? Do you request a rescue mission?”

Valerian’s expression darkened as he shook his head gently, “we are the only survivors.”

“My condolences,” sighed Anivia. “What are your plans now?”

“Despite heavy losses, we did complete our objective.” Valerian said with a smile, “I believe that means we are at your command, my lord.”

Discounting the tragedy that had evidently befallen their mission, this was the best news Anivia had heard in months.

“What about the Astartes who were traveling with you?” She asked, “what is their situation?”

“The Wolves of Fenris have paid grave costs for their honour and bravery,” sighed Valerian. “I do not know what their plan is. You should ask their pack leader. I believe he still lives.”

Anivia nodded and eyed an Adept to make note of this.

“Is the Captain-General still with you?” Valerian asked suddenly, though, having not seen Valoris here yet, he already knew the answer.

“I sent him back to Terra to update the Custodians after...the revelation.” Anivia cringed at the word, but it was apt. “He has been gone for eight months.”

“Then he shall have at least a few months of journey left,” said Valerian. It was not entirely true. Warp travel was not predictable in that way. It was entirely possible that, without facing any real obstacle in the warp, he would still only arrive after years had gone past. But Anivia had a hunch as to why Valerian said it this way.

Valerian’s face softened, “do not worry for him, my lord. He is the Captain-General. He will triumph.”

Either he was the most socially observant Custodes in the entire Imperium, or Anivia had become a lot more transparent since leaving Terra.

Anivia chuckled gently and gave Valerian a look. He blushed a little in response.

After catching up with Valerian, Anivia briefly visited the other Custodians as well. She had not met any of them before, but she figured that, since she was already here, she ought to at least meet those who now considered her their lord.

By the time she finished that task, it was 3 in the morning. Anivia thought about whether she should try to get some more sleep before dawn broke. Then, that Adept came over and informed her that the pack leader of the Wolves had awaken.

That was fast. Anivia exchanged a surprised look with Caslev. Although space marines had tough physiology, it was not quite comparable to that of a Custodian. Anivia (and the medicae) expected at least another half day before any of the Wolves would be in a condition to talk.

To the credit of this prediction, he was not exactly in a condition to talk.

“You are not well, my lord! Please stay down! Your wounds are opening up—”

Before Anivia even reached the door, she heard the sound of poor medicae staff’s begging, then some low growls that almost sounded inhuman.

Anivia opened the door.

A space marine that was more bandage than flesh lunged at her from the medicae bed. Caslev tensed and gave him a warning look, but it only aggravated him.

“At ease, soldier,” Anivia said in a calm commanding voice. “You are on Macragge of Ultramar. 10 of your brothers and 5 Custodians survived. Shield-Captain Valerian has informed me that your mission was successful.”

The Space Wolf stared at her. He still had his canine teeth out in a threatening expression, but Anivia could tell that he was processing her words rapidly.

She thought about what more he might have wanted to know. She could see that he was a primaris marine, likely someone who crossed the Rubicon since it was still rare for Ultima founding primaris to hold leadership roles. This meant that he at least knew of Guilliman’s return and was not entirely hostile to it.

“I am Anivia Lux Syrren,” Anivia continued. “Imperial Regent. Previously the Master of the Administratum and High Lord of Terra. I currently assume command of Macragge alongside Captain Acheran of the Ultramarine’s 2^nd Company. Lord Commander Guilliman has departed to Imperial Nihilus. Lord Defender Marneus Calgar is engaged at Nachmund. If you’d like a full damage report on the voidship and its auxiliary, I can get it to you by dawn.”

That, evidently, had been everything he wanted to know. The Space Wolf sat back down—much to the relief of the medicae staff—and regarded Anivia with an expression that almost looked like he was impressed.

“High Lord of Terra...” he muttered to himself, before saying, “I am Ragnar Blackmane of Fenris. Wolf Lord of the Blackmanes.”

Chapter Text

Anivia did not have many titles. Of the few that she did have, the Wolf Lord Ragnar picked up on “High Lord of Terra”. Curious, Anivia thought. Had he interacted with other Terran nobility? Had he been to Terra?

It was perhaps too early in their acquaintance for her to pry, but Anivia had a strange feeling that the Wolf Lord sensed her curiosity. He became simultaneously more physically relaxed and more psychologically guarded.

“You have answered all of my questions, Lord Regent,” Ragnar said as he extended his arms, allowing medicae to patch up the reopened wounds. “Do you have any for me?”

“It is my understanding that a Wolf Lord commands a Company,” said Anivia, “where are the rest?”

“We were separated,” said Ragnar. “I will seek to reunite with them eventually, but not now.”

Anivia did not ask why. She simply nodded, “please inform me if you require aid of any kind. I should disclose that I am acquainted with Shield-Captain Valerian from back on Terra and he has already debriefed me the basics. Please rest. We will reconvene once you fully recover.”

Ragnar did not object.

Just as Anivia was getting ready to leave, Ragnar’s gaze suddenly fixed on Dragory. His eyes narrowed.

“Grey Knight...” he sneered quietly, inaudible to all but the gene-enhanced senses.

Dragory was a little surprised. Given the secretive nature of his order, he had taken off almost all of the Chapter symbols from his clothing, leaving only a small Inquisitorial seal attached to his belt in case Anivia ever needed him to wave it at someone. It was common for others, mortals and Astartes alike, to mistake him for a Deathwatch, though a Deathwatch would also have proudly displayed their original Chapter symbol alongside the Inquisitorial seal.

He was surprised that Ragnar could tell, but then he remembered the rumoured schism between the Space Wolves and the Grey Knights that had been bothering Anivia for almost a year now.

Dragory instinctively looked at Anivia, who evidently did not hear what Ragnar just said. She was also almost asleep by now, and was very confused why Dragory had stopped walking.

Dragory gave her a comforting smile and opened the door for her. He was very pleased to see the shocked face of Ragnar when they left the room.

Anivia did not wake up until noon.

She had prepared a list of tasks for her subordinates to do before going back to bed, and she was so preoccupied by this turn of events that she dreamed about it. When she awoke, she felt both well-rested and productive.

“A great leader gets work done even when she sleeps,” Teka mused. “Your hunch is right, my lord. Ragnar Blackmane has spent some time on Terra as a Wolfblade, attached to the Navigator House Belisarius.”

Anivia nodded as she began to eat her brunch. House Belisarius was one of the most ancient and powerful Navigator Houses on Terra. Because of this, they were almost never elected as the Paternoval Envoy, lest the delicate balance of the Navis Nobilite be disrupted by one House gaining more influence over others. Consequently, Anivia had had very little interaction with the House Belisarius.

“The Space Wolves have always resisted the Codex restructuring,” said Nora. “But they are loyal servants to the Emperor. Some time during the first phase of the Crusade, Lord Guilliman had met with the Chapter Master Lorgar Grimnar. I was serving on Lord Guilliman’s ship at the time, though I did not accompany him to Fenris. I believe that they have reached an understanding of some sort. Many Space Wolves have since joined the Crusade and the Chapter is now open to primaris reinforcement.”

Anivia guessed as much, but it was still good to hear the confirmation.

“What are you thinking, my lord?” Teka asked with a shudder, “you look...strangely excited.”

“Do I?” Anivia grinned.

“Last time you smiled like this was when Lord Calgar...” Teka took a quick glance at the Ultramarines in the room and did not finish his sentence.

“And Lord Calgar has been delightful,” Anivia’s grinned deepened as she half-closed her eyes, “I’m sure the Wolf Lord Blackmane will be the same. Now, where is Inquisitor van Calox?”

Although Anivia suspected that the Emperor did not have that much free time to tend to matters such as this, the appearance of Valerian and Ragnar almost made her start singing praises of his blessing.

She had, in fact, formulated a plan about the Inquisition fairly soon after her meeting with Grand Master Caddon Varn on Sattrochol. The subsequent few months and the encounters with Tyvar and Titus had only convinced her of the plan’s soundness. The problem, however, was in its execution.

The biggest strength with the Inquisition was that all Inquisitors were free agents. They were trained to think independently and had the authority to back it up. This was a feature that, despite all their failings, Anivia really wanted to preserve. However, it also presented a great challenge for her, which was that their ideological diversity prevented any systematic institution of reform. It didn’t matter if one inquisitor was convinced. As soon as she met her demise, her replacement could very well turn a 180 on any agreement she had signed.

The goal, then, was to introduce channels of inter-institutional vigilance and intra-institutional constraint. In other words, the Inquisition should be allowed to do whatever they wanted in principle, provided that their actions could be audited by an outside force. They did not need to answer to a centralized authority, but they needed to answer to someone.

In order for something like this to fly, Anivia couldn’t simply force the scheme upon them, for they would simply cite their Emperor-given right to exercise their independence and ignore her. The Emperor could not individually present himself to every Inquisitor in order to instate Anivia as his herald. Even if he could, Anivia would not want this, and it might still be insufficient to convince some especially free-thinking Inquisitors.

What Anivia needed was a show of force from factions that even the Inquisition would respect. The idea was to garner enough support to give the proposal both the spirit of unification and the undertone of an ultimatum.

In the most ideal scenario, she would bring Guilliman and Valoris to the meeting. Between the Astartes and the Custodes, they represented the strongest military forces of the Imperial. Adding Anivia herself as the Regent, they would cover everything the Inquisition might remotely pretend to have ever cared about. It would be difficult for any of them to refuse the proposal while still claiming that they served the Imperium and the Emperor.

As soon as the thought formed in her head, she knew that it wouldn’t be possible. Guilliman’s time was too precious to be used like this. There was still a possibility that Valoris could make it, though with the apparent urgency that came with the Deathwatch letter, this possibility increasingly dwindled.

The best replacement for Valoris would have been Colquan, but of course that was a no-go too. Caslev would not do. He was way too kind to be convincing.

On the other hand, Anivia had considered having Calgar as replacement for Guilliman. It was not really ideal, however, for Ultramarines were too...orderly. They observed rank so strictly that the difference between first and second in-command was too great to function as a substitution.

Given all of these considerations, the arrival of Valerian and Ragnar was a god-sent.

As usual, Anivia explained her reasoning to the Chosen, as well as Teka, Nora, and Heinrix.

Part of this was to keep her promise of “no secrecy between allies”; part of this was also a way of clearing her head and getting some outside perspective.

“Do you think it’s worth summoning either Grand Master Varn or Grand Master Voldus?” Asked Dragory.

Aldrik Voldus was the Grand Master of the 3^rd Brotherhood of the Grey Knights, which was the Brotherhood that Dragory served before he joined the Chosen.

“Do you know where Voldus is?” Asked Anivia.

Dragory shrugged, “I can find out.” He was, of course, referring to his psychic abilities.

“Hmm,” Anivia made a thinking noise.

“Are you worried about the Deathwatch, my lord?” Asked Dragory.

Anivia gave him an amused look, “I’m worried about the Space Wolves, Dragory. Have you forgotten so quickly how that Wolf Lord looked at you?”

“Oh, right,” Dragory scratched his head, “I thought you didn’t hear him.”

“Hear him say what? Did he threaten you?”

“No...never mind, my lord. Yes, it might not be the wisest idea to involve the Grey Knights too closely, though I suspect that at least one Grand Master will attend the Conclave. With me by your side, unless they are openly hostile to you, others will assume that they are there to do your bidding.”

That was a good point. Anivia buried her face in her palms and let out a sigh.

“I need to talk to the Deathwatch,” she moaned. “I need to talk to Arx. I need to talk to that Wolf Lord. I was not raised to do the talking. Where is Guilliman when I need him?”

Heinrix cleared his throat. “I can talk to the Deathwatch for you?” He said in a tentative tone.

“Oh really?” Anivia jolted up and looked at him with excitement, “you would?”

He guess he couldn’t back off now. Although he was also part of Ordo Xenos, he was still just an Inquisitor ordinary. The thought of talking to the Deathwatch Watch Master seemed daunting.

Heinrix nodded solemnly. Anivia laughed.

“I appreciate the offer, Inquisitor van Calox, but I’m not going to ask you to do my job for me,” Anivia smiled. “I will need you there to play the role Grand Master Varn expects you to play, but there are things I must do myself.”

Memories from Sotha came back to Heinrix and he had nothing more to say. He bowed in submission.

Titus looked at his lord.

It was difficult—it was so unbelievably difficult for him to hold in the desire to do something for her. Anything. To help ease her burden. Anything at all.

Yet there was nothing he could do. Her burden was entirely her own to carry.

She was shining a light into nothingness. She was forging a path that did not exist. It was not fair. The best they could do was to follow her lead, to enjoy the fruit of her labour, to rest in her vigil, to hope under her light.

It was not fair. Surely he could do more for her. Surely he could do so much more—

—Except he couldn’t. Not really.

Light was not made to be embraced, but with a little bit more courage, he would nevertheless try.

Chapter Text

“Come in!” Anivia shouted from the balcony. To her surprise, it was Titus.

“Anything wrong?” She asked, though she knew that, if something was actually wrong, he would’ve just voxed her.

“No... I wanted to check on you.” He seemed really nervous for some reason.

“Oh, what for? —come on in.” She beckoned him to the balcony.

“You seem stressed recently, my lord,” said Titus. To be honest, he sounded more stressed just now than she ever did.

Anivia chuckled, “you are observant. So what are you planning to do about it by coming here?”

That was a great question.

If Titus was completely honest with himself, he had come here not for her sake but for his own. He wanted to see her. He needed to see her. The desire was so intense it burned his soul.

“You—have said before that you enjoy having me around,” Titus swallowed as he forced the words out of himself. “I wanted to help you. I wonder if spending some time together would help.”

Courage, he told himself. He just needed a bit of courage.

Anivia seemed surprised by this offer, then she gave a smile so warm it melted half of Titus’s bones.

“It might,” she said gently.

For a long moment after, they stood side by side and watched the sun set over Magna Macragge Civitas in the distance.

At some point, she had leaned gently against him. That resulted in him noticing very little of the gorgeous scenery before his eyes.

When the lumens lit up, Anivia chuckled quietly. “Why are you always so nervous around me?” She asked. Her body shook with gentle vibration.

Titus was so focused on controlling his muscle tension and breathing that it took him a second to register what she had said. He noticed her looking up at him with amusement and curiosity.

“I—it’s because—” he swallowed. His two hearts were distractingly loud.

Just a little bit of courage. Just a little bit more.

Titus inhaled deeply and knelt down on one knee so he could look into her eyes. He could see her pupils dilating.

Was it the darkness? Or was it something else…?

“It’s because I want you, my lord,” he said.

It’s because I want you so much it hurts. He added to himself. It’s been hurting for months and I can’t handle it anymore.

He could see that this caught her off guard. At the same time, her pupils dilated even more and her pulse quickened. He leaned forward and gently kissed her.

Anivia lifted a hand to touch the side of his cheek. Almost reflexively, she kissed back.

That burned out the last bit of rationality left in him. Titus gripped her wrist and pushed her against the balcony wall. He kissed her with everything he had. He kissed her like his life depended on it.

When he slipped a hand inside her uniform to touch her back, she stopped him.

“Demetrian I—” she paused and looked at him with that faintly apologetic expression. Her body still quivered under his touch and she was lightly panting.

“I do not need anything from you, my lord,” he said in a whisper. “The only thing that matters to me is whether or not you want me now.”

She looked at him for a little longer, as if to judge the genuineness of his words. Then she sighed silently and leaned forward to kiss him again.

Without breaking the kiss he lifted her up and walked toward the bed. Despite the situation, he found himself strangely calm and his head strangely clear. He knew exactly what he was doing and what he was going to do. He had dreamed of this scenario numerous times before, in his sleep, in his meditations, or sometimes even in daytime, when he caught himself watching her through a window or a doorway.

It was common for Astartes to rehearse combat scenarios during meditations so they could better react when the moment came for real. Likewise, although Titus had not even touched Anivia’s uniform before today, he took it off with practiced agility.

Anivia gently rocked her hip upward and Titus’s brain almost exploded. He was in the middle of taking his own robe off and almost tore it to shreds.

Steady, Titus. He commanded himself.

He observed her closely, watching how her body responded to his touch. He experimented with gentle biting, with touching and kissing every inch of her body, until her mindless rocking began to take on a hint of urgency.

He held his dripping, throbbing cock in his hand and teased her clit with the head. Anivia let out an almost inaudible moan and she thrusted her hip toward him, almost taking him in.

Titus gripped the bedsheet hard and took a trembling breath. He did not expect this much. Was this actually what she wanted?

“Stop me if this is too much,” he grunted. Anivia did not respond, but she did not seem to be the type that would hold in her wishes in situations like this, so he moved forward with it.

He was soon proven right. Not long after his cock had entered her, she simultaneously sighed in pleasure and waved for him to stop.

Most of him was still outside, aching for the same warmth his glans was feeling. To have it just a little bit was even worse that to not have any at all.

Yet he obliged. Pulling out only to push back in for just that tiny bit of length he was given permission to, not a millimeter more. The pleasure pained him. He would give up anything to be able to go in in full.

It amazed him how he managed to succeed in controlling himself as Anivia writhed under him, making small and broken moans. His finger massaged her clit almost mindlessly. He could feel nothing except the throbbing, pleasurable pain of his tortured erection.

When he finally pushed her over the edge, it took a moment for him to register. Then he pulled out, and let out a sigh of relief when he finally placed his palm over the neglected length of his cock. He rubbed it with a hint of desperation.

It wasn’t until he came a second time that his senses returned. By then, Anivia had drifted asleep.

The room was comfortingly quiet. Titus took some time to calm himself, to take it all in. Then, he found the bathroom, dampened a towel, and gently cleaned up the mess he caused.

Anivia woke up briefly and was surprised to find that Titus hadn’t left.

He was loosely holding her—his body traced the outline of hers without disturbing her natural posture. He was warm but not intrusively so.

He immediately noticed her waking up and gently kissed her hair.

“Do you have anything to ask me?” She asked.

Titus looked at her for a moment, his gene-enhanced eyes penetrating the darkness to see the soft expression on her face.

He knew that he was not the only one, and he had wondered who the others were. There was the Captain-General of the Custodes whom he had never met. Thinking back on it, Titus could sense something profound in the way his lord Guilliman looked at her.

There might be others. That Grey Knight Dragory, perhaps. But he did not care anymore.

“Did it help?” He asked.

Anivia laughed a silent laugh. The entire bed shook gently with the rhythm.

Without answering, she curled up closer to him, planted a kiss on his chest, and went back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Arx was probably trying to use her unannounced arrival to suss something out of Anivia, but the increased security in the aftermath of Valerian’s crush landing had thwarted that plan. Still, Arx was only slightly disappointed. Trying to device any such schemes on the Lux had always been a throw of the die.

“Lord Syrren, it’s been awhile.” Arx smiled. It made her harsh features appear almost savagery.

“Lord Arx,” Anivia gave a proper Terran salute and did not smile. “I am thankful of your timely arrival.” That was, of course, a lie.

“And I am thankful of your invitation,” said Arx. That was, of course, also a lie, if only because Anivia didn’t actually send her a proper invitation.

Arx hid her sarcasm well, but they both knew that her true meaning would not escape Anivia.

Anivia likewise hid any sign of noticing Arx’s probing. She said, in a manner similar to how she used to host the Council meetings on Terra, “allow me to introduce you to members of this meeting. Captain Acheran of the 2^nd Company of the Ultramarines, with his Chaplain Leandros. Wolf Lord Ragnar Blackmane of the Blackmanes Great Company of the Space Wolves, with his Wolf Guard Battle Leader Haldor Icepelt. Shield-Captain Valerian of the Custodes. Inquisitor Heinrix van Calox of Ordo Xenos. Finally, members of my aid, Lieutenant Demetrian Titus, Codicier Donas Maxim, and Caslev.”

As a token of good will to the true Inquisitorial Representative, Dragory the occasional substitute had not come.

“It is an honour to meet you all,” Arx said and gestured at the Mechanicum priest following her, “this is Nexus-17x, a Savant from my retinue.”

Anivia nodded and gestured them all to sit.

They sat at a round table, purposefully designed to downplay the hierarchy. Nevertheless, it was clear to everyone that where Anivia sat was the head of the table.

Arx sat directly across from her, while Acheran and Ragnar sat in between the two of them and across from each other. Valerian and Heinrix sat on the left and right side of Anivia. All the aids sat one step behind their lords.

“Watch Master Mordelai of Talasa Prime wishes to call for an Inquisitorial High Conclave of the Ultima Segmentum,” Anivia opened the meeting in the usual way—by bringing everyone up to speed. “He has invited me to attend. Date and location are yet to be decided, but I have suggested Talasa Prime.”

Acheran raised his eyebrows—not Macragge? He did not ask the question.

“What is the reason for inviting the Imperial Regent to an Inquisitorial Conclave?” Asked Valerian.

“He did not disclose,” said Anivia. “Lord Arx, have you received similar news? Do you have insight of this?”

“As you know, I primarily operate in Segmentum Solar,” said Arx. “However, soon after I entered the Ultima Segmentum on an unrelated quest, I was contacted by Watch Master Vaedrian Shenol of Watcher Keep about this Conclave.”

Leandros gave Titus a surreptitious look, which the latter did not return.

“Watcher Keep is in Segmentum Pacificus, is it not?” Said Anivia, “is Watch Master Shenol currently in the Ultima Segmentum?”

“I was contacted through astropathy,” said Arx, “but I believe he intends to join the Conclave. Is there trouble within Ordo Xenos, Inquisitor van Calox?”

“Not within the Ordo, no,” said Heinrix.

Arx narrowed her eyes, “are you implying that the trouble is between the Ordos?”

“I am not implying anything,” said Heinrix evenly. “If there is an internal rift between some elements of the Inquisition and others, it wouldn’t be the first or the last time.”

He was holding his own remarkably well, thought Anivia.

Heinrix’s position was a precarious one. He was a young and inexperienced Ordo Xenos Inquisitor sent by an Ordo Malleus Captain to liaison with the Imperial Regent. He had absolutely no leverage in front of the Inquisitorial Representative and High Lord of Terra, lest he risk being seen as nothing more than the Regent’s pet. As it was, he might still be seen as such.

Anivia glanced at Ragnar. It had always been difficult to hide anything in front of space marines, and Anivia had learned from Dragory that doing so in front of Space Wolves was simply impossible. Apparently their heightened sense of smell could not only pick out emotional states such as fear and anger, but discern truth from lies as well.

Anivia was not planning on lying much, but any leader would not like the idea of someone reading them through their scent. In fact, Anivia disliked the idea of anyone picking on her scent for any reason.

She glanced at Ragnar without bothering to disguise it.

The stereotype of the Space Wolves was that they were barbarians, favouring close-quarter combat over diplomacy or even strategy. Anivia knew better than to underestimate any space marine, but even she had not expected Ragnar to be this sharp.

Through the first few times they had interacted—mostly to debrief and discuss their crush-landing—Anivia had gotten a hunch that he was exceptionally observant and thoughtful. Because of this, she had decided against conferring with him before this meeting with Arx. She did not want him to think that she was pulling a scheme and trying to get him on her side, although that would not be entirely false.

What surprised Anivia even more was Ragnar’s patience. She had intentionally left numerous places for him to interject: Why summon them to this meeting at all? Why is that Grey Knight not here? What does an Inquisitorial Conclave have anything to do with the Wolves? But Ragnar held his tongue. Instead, he listened and he observed. This was unusual for any space marine.

“Since you evidently plan to attend the Conclave, Lord Syrren, we may skip the idle speculation,” said Arx. “Unless you believe your attendance at the Conclave may require... preparation?”

That was a dangerous thing to say. Suspecting the Inquisition of needing military intervention, whether for a schism or a conspiracy, was a heavy charge even for the Imperial Regent. Anivia looked across the table and saw the High Lord that she was used to.

It brought back some of her own High-Lord-ness, which she had suspended during her long travel and subsequent dealings with the Astartes.

“I always prepare for meetings,” Anivia said calmly. “In particular, I plan to propose a reform. My intention in calling this meeting today is to gather feedback from all of you and, if you are convinced by its merit, invite you to state your reasoning when I present this to the Conclave.”

Well, it was a try, thought Arx. She understood that Anivia was no longer a High Lord and no longer playing the same game as her, but old habits died hard. It was difficult to resist any opportunity of unbalancing the Lux.

“The Inquisition has had free reign over the Imperium for ten millennia,” Anivia began. “At least in principle, this was true. In practice, what it meant was that the Inquisition had free reign over those who obeyed the rules, had more to lose, or was not in a position to defend themselves. Because nothing bounds the Inquisition in principle, military power bounds the Inquisition in practice. This is bad both for the people of Imperium and for the Inquisition itself.”

“The Inquisition bounds itself,” Arx said coldly. “It is part of an Inquisitor’s duty to monitor fellow Inquisitors.”

“which is bad for the Inquisition,” said Anivia. “An institution that monitors itself is no institution at all. True, many Inquisitors are loyal, just, and capable. But there is no actual difference whether they are acting out of a personal sense of duty or of personal gain.”

“And you think introducing an external monitoring mechanism is going to change that?” Arx sneered, “who monitor the monitors?”

“Of course not,” said Anivia. “The strength of the Inquisition is precisely in its ability to utilize creative methods of problem-solving. Standardizing the procedure to such a degree as to be monitorable would simply kill it.”

“At the end of the day, it will have to take another Inquisitor to assess the work of an Inquisitor,” Anivia continued. “But what kind of work requires assessment? What I propose is a way for outside factions to put a kind of pressure that the Inquisition must answer. How they go about answering it will still be their own decision to make.”

“Factions?” Arx said aggressively, “you are talking about factions now, Lord Regent?”

“Factions, forces, departmentos, however you want to call it,” Anivia remained unfazed. “The Imperium had always been balanced on top of a plurality of factions. The High Twelve of Terra are factional.”

Arx sneered, “last I heard, the Lord Commander has decided to overrule that structure by instituting you.”

“Perhaps,” Anivia said evenly. “Now that he has already instituted me, it is my word that counts. Not his.”

Even Arx was momentarily stunned into silence by how matter-of-factly she had said this. He was a primarch, for Throne’s sake. He was a primarch who knew how to share power, but no one was supposed to be under any delusion that the power was his to share.

“If I’m getting this right,” Ragnar said for the first time in this meeting, “you are suggesting that other factions can announce vendettas to the Inquisition, and the Inquisition must answer by handing over the culprit?”

“That is one way that it can occur,” said Anivia. “More precisely, any faction has the right to audit a piece of Inquisitorial work under the following conditions. If the affected party belongs to the challenging faction, the investigation is to be held by a team composed of members from the Inquisition, the challenging faction, and a third arbitrator faction. If the affected party is external to the issuing faction, there need to be two challenging factions, who must contribute to the investigation team in addition to the Inquisition.”

“What if the Inquisition turns out to be right?” Asked Ragnar.

“It is an investigation team and not a arbitrator’s court,” said Anivia. “The truth is the truth.”

Ragnar did not look convinced. Not so much of the content of her proposal, but of her ability to make it happen.

Anivia continued to explain her plan. She had worked on it for a few more months than she really needed to—every time she thought about the problem of who could play the role of Guilliman and Valoris, she went back to the document and made tweaks. It was more than viable now. Every detail had been carefully tightened to be almost waterproof.

Unfortunately, neither of the two people she was trying to convince was paying much attention to the details.

Arx had worked with Anivia for long enough to know that any plan of hers would at least meet the minimum level of workability, and usually was at least an improvement on the status quo. Her Savant was faithfully recording the entire meeting. Arx’s mind was entirely on politics.

It was difficult to tell what Ragnar’s stance was. There was no reason for him to trust Anivia’s abilities as much as Arx did, but his emphasis did not seem to be on the viability of the plan either. At the same time, he also did not have Arx’s incentive to resist it for the sake of resisting. Did he think that this was such a non-starter that it wasn’t worth serious consideration? Was he still unsure about Anivia in some way and so didn’t want to show his cards yet?

Tough egg to crack, that one, thought Anivia.

Acheran and Leandros, on the other hand, were mesmerized by it. Anivia faintly remembered that she was going to ease Leandros into this whole thing, but fate was not kind to him. With the arrival of Valerian, Leandros would have to just take it like the blunt hammer blow that it was.

Valerian seemed to be the only person who was listening, thinking, and considering in the way that Anivia had hoped. He asked questions occasionally, thinking up hypothetical scenarios to test the limitations of the structure. Then he thought with a frown and nodded to himself. He had matured even more since Anivia last saw him, which was in the aftermath of the failed coup. Valerian was more battle-hardened and determined than before. He was a great leader now.

“The plan itself notwithstanding, lord Syrren, you might have overlooked something else important,” said Arx coldly when Anivia had finished the initial presentation.

Titus had poured a cup of water for her and Anivia was in the middle of reaching for it. She let her hand drop onto the table, preparing for what was to come.

“And what would that be, lord Arx?”

“That the Inquisition’s authority is granted by the God-Emperor Himself, and is thus within no one else’s authority to revoke.” said Arx. She stared at Anivia from the other side of the table.

“Is that so?” Anivia replied calmly, “Lord Guilliman has informed me that it was the first Regent of Terra, Malcador the Hero, who established the Inquisition in the aftermath of the Horus Heresy. It is, therefore, within my authority to revoke.”

For a moment there, no one spoke. Then, something happened suddenly. Heinrix and Maxim instinctively reached for their staffs. Caslev and Valerian frowned and looked up. Without breaking eye contact, Anivia swiped a finger sideways to tell them to stand down.

An overwhelming sense of dread filled the air. A soul-crushing sense of despair. It aroused every dust of fear from every forgotten corner of one’s heart, no matter how brave the facade. It defied rational thinking and brought back every memory of failure and loss.

Although they were not targeted themselves, the three Ultramarines and the Two Space Wolves gritted their teeth as they controlled their bodies not to reach for weapons. It was not a real attack—it was worse than that. It was the ultimate test of will.

Anivia sat perfectly still. She did not even blink. She stared directly into Arx’s equally stoney eyes with an almost inhuman calmness. Only the almost imperceptible rise and fall of her chest was any indication that she had not been turned into marble by the psyker.

If Anivia could think, she would be glad of her decision to not bring Teka or Nora. Even Arx’s own Savant, who was more machine than human and had undoubtedly witnessed this before, had curled up on the floor and trembled.

Anivia sat perfectly still. If this were a psychic attack, she would’ve had no chance. But this was a battle of the will, and she was not going to lose any of those.

She sat as the despair tore at her. The regret gnawed at her. The anger like nail being hammered into her skull by the uncertainty. A surge of panic rose and fell. Fear encircled her like sharks under water. The phantom imagery of her dead sisters and the longing she felt with the realization of never seeing them again drowned her heart. The worry for Guilliman and Valoris. The frustration that she could not simply make everything well for everyone with a snap of her finger. The sorrow followed.

These emotions filled the air, bouncing against the walls and came back with doubled intensity. It was now affecting others in the room too. Nexus-17x had begun to weep, no doubt being crushed by the amplified weight of Anivia’s emotions.

Maxim gritted his teeth. Neither he nor Heinrix was privy to this kind of magic, yet Heinrix seemed to be handling it much better, presumably because he had experienced such depth of pain before.

Suddenly, Maxim smelled blood. He then realized that the Wolf Guard brought along by Ragnar had dug his nails into his thigh to prevent himself from howling in sorrow. Likewise, tear streaked down the faces of that Ultramarine Captain and Chaplain. They were not weak willed. They simply had never felt anything like this and couldn’t help but display their most honest response.

Maxim wondered how long Arx would continue. It couldn’t have been pleasant for her either, having to draw out the weight of the Regent’s anguish, doubling it, and sending it back. He wondered if Arx had underestimated how much the Regent carried under her calmness. It was beyond the point that he or Heinrix could do anything about it, though the Custodians who had been genetically engineered to resist both emotional stress and warp effects might.

At that point, Maxim suddenly realized that he was not falling apart. He was sad, angry, frustrated, regretful...but he was not falling apart. Calling this experience unpleasant was an understatement, but he could, if he had to, endure for much longer. Surely this was not Arx’s intended results.

Then he understood the reason—there was no hatred or blame in his lord’s heart.

She was occasionally frustrated by fate but never by the people thrown around by fate’s currents. She occasionally regretted the actions of others or of her own, but she was never truly disappointed by them. She never blamed them for not doing better, not trying harder, not being perfect. All she thought about was how she could help them do better. She wanted to make it so that they didn’t have to try that hard, and she certainly did not believe in perfection.

And so when her burden filled their hearts, none of them hated themselves or each other. Arx had generated anger and anxiety and doubt as bait, but none of them took hold in the Regent’s heart, and so they were quickly washed away. In fact, the longer it went on, the more pleasant it became. Instead of hatred or anger or despair that so frequently plagued the hearts of the assembled veterans, there was sorrow for the state of the Imperium. The sadness of not doing more. The concern for the wellbeing of comrades. The...determination to do better.

The determination.

Like a spark to gunpowder, the entire room exploded with the determination of the Regent’s will. Amplified to a hundred fold, it was intense enough to make Maxim’s ears ring.

Arx swung back in her seat as if blasted back by force of impact. She blinked hard, trying to focus her vision as the emotion dissipated from the room.

The Regent still sat across the table. Slowly and calmly, she gave a faint smile.

She had won.

Chapter Text

As soon as Valerian called for a recess, Arx stumbled out of the room, leaving her Savant still on the floor, struggling to collect herself.

Anivia still sat there, dazed, unable to speak.

She was not good with emotions. Although most of what Arx had done was reflecting her own back at her—and therefore none of it was foreign—Arx had intensified it to such a degree that Anivia had never actually experienced before.

“My lord,” Maxim called out softly, putting a reheated cup of water in her hands. Anivia’s hands were icy cold. Everything in this room was icy cold after Arx’s sorcery, but that was not the only reason for Anivia’s lack of warmth.

Caslev put her cloak on her back. He was still frowning. This was the closest he had ever gotten to being enraged.

“Did the Lord Inquisitor have to do it to this extent?” Valerian mused disapprovingly, more to himself than to anyone else.

“She is doing you a favour,” Ragnar grinned, though his voice was more hoarse than usual. “If you can’t handle this, going to Talasa Prime is as good as suicide.”

Anivia knew this, of course. She was still not in a position to speak, and so was hoping that her scent could convey her agreement, whatever that meant.

“It would be risky to pull this exact trick in a room full of Inquisitors,” said Heinrix. He seemed to be doing alright. “It would be difficult to focus so precisely on the Regent when there are many other hundreds of people in the room and many other psykers. If the focus is off, the consequence will be disastrous.”

What Arx just did was a variation of what combat psykers would do to turn enemies into bloodthirsting berserkers so that they would murder each other in a frenzy. Despite the apparent harshness, if there was anything in Anivia that threatened to result in the same effect, Arx would’ve stopped it immediately. Between the three psykers and two Custodians in the room, they could’ve put everything under control. The same would not be true at the High Conclave.

“Maxim, Caslev, go check on Arx for me,” Anivia said with her eyes closed, her voice barely audible. “Take Teka with you.”

Caslev looked at his lord as if he was going to object, but a meaningful glance from Valerian stopped him. They bowed and left the room.

Forcing herself to speak brought about a surge of nausea in Anivia. She supported her head with her arm bent on the table and took long breaths.

A candy appeared on the table next to her elbow. It was Heinrix.

“This might help,” he said grimly.

Anivia put it in her mouth. It tasted sour and fruity. It certainly helped a little. She was no longer tasting her own stomach in her throat.

“Are you sure you want to continue with this plan?” Ragnar asked, undoubtedly sensing the slow recovery of the Regent and deciding that she was well enough to think.

Anivia looked at him. She could speak, but she would rather not. She did not forget that fact that she still had to convince the Space Wolves, and the strength of will she just displayed in response to Arx might not contribute to this effort entirely positively.

Fortunately, Ragnar was not trying to test her. He understood her meaning well enough and continued, “when the primarch Guilliman parlayed with the Great Wolf on Fenris about accepting primaris technology, he demonstrated his trust in the Wolves by bowing before the Great Wolf. Yet it was not enough to convince Grimnar. Do you know why?”

Those were challenging words. The three Ultramarines frowned.

Anivia knew of the difficulties Guilliman faced in convincing many of the old Chapters to accept primaris marines but obviously not in this much detail. It was not hard to understand the dynamic, though.

“If you are worried that I would somehow turn this into a favour on the Wolves, worry not,” Anivia said tiredly. “I could’ve done that in a hundred easier ways.”

Ragnar eyed the Regent curiously. The Great Wolf Logan Grimnar had resisted the primaris reinforcement not because they didn’t need it—the Wolves desperately needed it—but because Grimnar believed that this would make the Wolves indebted to the primarch and, one day, they would be forced to do his bidding.

The Regent was clearly aware of the strife between the Space Wolves and the Grey Knights, though Ragnar suspected that it was only the recent Siege of the Fenris System that she knew. The First War for Armageddon and the Months of Shame followed it was both highly classified and way before her time.

Nevertheless, it would not have been difficult for her to deny the intention of leverage-building, just as Guilliman did. Her case would be more convincing and, although there was no reason for her to know this, Ragnar would’ve been more forgiving than the Great Wolf. Curiously, this was not her approach.

She chose a much riskier path, though, Ragnar realized just now, it made her more convincing.

As a primarch, Guilliman had to act honourably with the Astartes lest he lose support from his own sons. As a Terran lord, Anivia had far fewer constraints. She could screw over the Space Wolves quite thoroughly and with minimum repercussions, if she played her cards right. This made it easy for the Wolves to assess her proposal for its own merit rather than as a scheme.

Interesting.

What was especially interesting was not the approach itself, but the fact that the Regent had evidently expected Ragnar to be able to follow the reasoning. Any other Wolf Lord without the depth of understanding of Terran politics that Ragnar had would’ve taken what she said as a challenge or a threat, and it would’ve backfired.

Ragnar grinned. It was a savage grin that was typical of the Space Wolves.

Just as Anivia was going to say something more, her vox sounded. It was Teka.

“The Lord Inquisitor asks for a recess until tomorrow, my lord.” His voice was strangely hesitant, “and she wishes to see you and lord Valerian. In private.”

Arx’s room was filled with lho-stick smoke. She was not smoking when Anivia entered, but the smell was fresh.

Arx looked quite surprised that both Anivia and Valerian had no qualms visiting her rather than asking her to go to them. She was not quite in a position to stand up and walk about yet. If they had insisted on observing rank, she would have to delay the meeting.

“Thank you for coming, my lords,” said Arx. There was not a hint of redness on her face. Valerian had noticed the faint smell of vomit in the room that had been diligently covered up by perfume.

Arx had sent all of her retinue away. Anivia’s Chosen was a little more reluctant to leave her, but they were convinced by Valerian.

“Are you all right?” Anivia asked.

“I will live,” Arx said. “And I will stand by you at Talasa Prime, if you still intend to go.”

Anivia frowned. She waited for Arx to elaborate.

Arx did not immediately speak. Her eyes gazed through the window at the gloomy Macraggean sky, seemingly enjoying the view. After some time, she sighed and looked back at Anivia.

“It pains me to give up pulling this wonderfully positioned leverage on you, the Lux. Many Terran lords would kill for such precious and rare opportunities.” Despite her strained expression, Arx’s eyes contained a faint trace of humour. “But I must admit that I trust you. And I’m too tired to play games now anyway.”

“I think I know why the Deathwatch is calling for a Conclave,” Arx said slowly, as if weighed down by her own words. “That Ultramarine Lieutenant you have. He is a blank.”

“That’s not possible,” Valerian blurted out without thinking. “Astartes are never blanks.”

“Is that a universal law of nature?” Retorted Arx.

“There have been experiments, I believe,” explained Valerian patiently. “I've seen records in the Librarius of the Palace. Scholars believe that the Pariah gene is incompatible with Astartes gene-seed, no matter the Chapter. No subject ever survived.”

“Perhaps,” said Arx. “But not all Astartes Librarians start out as psykers.”

“Are you suggesting he has acquired this ability post transformation?” Asked Valerian, “I suppose we can find out by closely studying his record.”

He looked at Anivia. She was still frowning and saying nothing.

“The question we need to ask now is not how it happens, but what to do about it,” said Arx. “It is safe to assume that the Deathwatch knows and the Grey Knights at least suspects. They will want to study him. At the very least, they will want to train him.”

Anivia closed her eyes momentarily to calm herself. “They are trying to force my hand,” she muttered.

It did not matter if her reform went through. With enough high-ranking Inquisitors present at the Conclave, she would not be able to refuse the request without appearing like just any other power hungry selfish lord.

Her brain was filled with so many thoughts all at once. Did Guilliman know or at least suspect this when he gave Titus to her? Part of her wanted to think that Guilliman would’ve told her. No secrecy between allies. The other part of her remembered that Guilliman did tell her that Titus had manifested peculiar warp resistance which was the initial reason for Leandros’s reporting to the Inquisition. It would’ve been a bit farfetched for him to suggest the blank hypothesis that early on.

If Guilliman did suspect this, what was he hoping she would do? As quickly as this question formulated in her head, Anivia knew the answer. Guilliman was hoping that she would decide. She would’ve gotten to know Titus a little bit more, to know the Ultramarines, to know Leandros perhaps, and she would decide. Guilliman trusted her decision, whatever it might be.

Well, this line of thinking proved to be unhelpful.

What about the Grey Knights? When she last saw Grand Master Varn, she was not even in Ultramar yet. Perhaps Varn had predicted this, and that was why he had sent her an Ordo Xenos? This wasn’t impossible. But if this was true, did it explain the strange level of trust Varn had put in Anivia? Was he trying to get her on his side so she would hand Titus over to Titan rather than the Deathwatch? Was he foreseeing her decision in the future which warranted this trust? What would that decision be?

What would that decision be? What did she want to do with him?

Anivia wasn’t sure. There were many obvious reasons in favour. There were some personal reasons against. She had to make up her mind before telling Titus of this. She would tell him, of course, and soon, but she expected that he would simply agree to surrender himself to whichever faction she deemed the most worthy. That thought alone made her stomach twitch.

“I need to think on this,” said Anivia finally. “I appreciate you telling me, Arx.”

Arx gave a light bow.

Chapter Text

Since Guilliman’s resurrection, the Temple of Correction had been largely empty.

Half of the Temple was destroyed in the battle that followed the event, but that part had already been restored. The most important relic on display—Lord Guilliman himself—was obviously gone, even his chair was destroyed in the fight, but that had strangely not dampened the enthusiasm of the pilgrims. Eventually, the Temple was closed from outsiders on Calgar’s orders, largely for security reasons.

It was still a good place to meditate, though, and Astartes of Guilliman’s line were still allowed inside for this purpose. None of them was religious in the usual sense, but many found the empty hall comforting, even in the absence of their primarch’s static body watching over them.

Still, with the departure of the Indomitus Crusade and the many changes enacted by the Regent, the Temple of Correction saw the least amount of foot traffic it had seen in ten millennia.

Leandros fully expected that he would be alone.

When he saw that he was not, he briefly panicked with the thought that it was the Regent waiting for him. He could not figure out where this sense of dread came from. He was supposed to know no fear.

“This Temple is for Astartes only,” he said to the intruders as sternly as he could.

There were two of them, both humans in battle gear—this was how he realized that it wasn’t the Regent. They bore different insignia, however.

They both stood up from their kneeling positions to turn to face him. Leandros recognized one of them to be Canoness Joghilde from the Order of Our Martyred Lady. She had fought in the Ultima Segmentum for quite some time and had come across Leandros in planning meetings, though they had never directly conversed.

The other person looked familiar. Leandros had seen her around the Fortress of Hera but did not know her name. She bore the insignia of the Sisters of the Void, which was a minor Ecclesiarchal cult.

It was a strange combination. The Order of Our Martyred Lady was one of the six Order Militant of the Adeptus Sororitas. They were frequently deployed to fight alongside the Astartes and had a very similar culture of finding glory only in battle and death. The Sisters of the Void, on the other hand, was a peaceful organization consisted of priestesses, healers, and even merchants. They were officially sanctioned by the Ecclesiarchy possibly only because of how nonthreatening they were. The two Sisters were not exactly ideologically opposed to each other, but it was difficult to imagine them getting along.

“This Temple is for the warriors of the Throne,” said the Void Sister, “all who are willing to die for His cause should be allowed to bathe in His light.”

That was not an unfair thing to say. Leandros briefly contemplated kicking them out regardless and decided against it. Part of him suspected that they had the Regent’s permission to be here. Part of him also really wanted to talk to someone who had not just been in that meeting room.

“And what light are you seeking, Sisters?” He asked.

“Is there not just one light which we all seek, Chaplain?” Replied the Void Sister, “we choose different paths but toward the same light.”

Tell me, Chaplain. Do you enjoy your work?

He did not know how much of this was because his soul still hadn’t shaken off the Regent’s pain, which was so recently forced upon him, but her words rang in his head like an echo.

“I do not choose my path,” Leandros said tensely. “I am given one path only and it is my duty to never deviate from that path.”

“Is it?” The Canoness retorted. Her voice was much more rigid than that of the Void Sister’s and it almost sounded interrogatory. “When we enter the battlefield, it is our duty to win the war, but we do so by exercising our own judgment, and there is always more than one path.”

Her face softened a little as she continued, “it was one of your brothers who told me this: a theoretical is only as sound as the mind that formulates it; a practical is only as effective as the hand that carries it out. I’ve been reflecting on this dictum lately, both in my meditations and on the battlefield.”

As if sharing a private joke, the Void Sister smiled at her. She said, “there is a saying amongst us void farers: it is not enough to command someone to take a trip; you must also trust that they can make it.”

I’m sure Lord Guilliman is delighted by your faith in him, just as he has faith in all of you.

Leandros clutched his fists in an attempt to stop himself from trembling.

“But the path…it must be righteous.” He whispered, more to himself than to the sisters, “how else can we be sure that we would never err?”

“We can’t,” said the Canoness solemnly. “This is the sad truth of this universe. We can never be certain. All we can do is to try our best under His guiding light, or freeze from fear in inaction.”

The determination. Not in the infallibility of the one true path, but in the people that turn toward the light. The determination scourged him.

Now he had witnessed the true depth of her determination, the thought that even a will that strong was incapable of infallibility was almost paralyzingly terrifying.

What would he do if he could never be certain that something was infallible? What could he do?

He knew what he had been doing. He had been closing his eyes and pretending everything would be fine. He had been doing this, now he realized, so he didn’t have to deal with the uncertainty. He didn’t have to deal with the risk of error because he had made someone else carry that burden for him. He had made Guilliman carry his burden for him.

Just as the Regent had pointed out, his lord Guilliman had faith in him. And he had abused that faith for his own cowardice.

In the absence of direct orders, Titus finished his usual round of patrol and went back to his room.

A lot seemed to be happening in a very short period of time. A lot of politics. A lot of scheming. Everyone moved about the Regent as she turned every gear she had been carefully oiling and sliding into place. He felt strangely redundant all of a sudden.

No space marine ever enjoyed feeling redundant, but Titus did not hate it this time. He trusted that the Regent had a plan and all he needed to do was to await orders. He also trusted that she would not hesitate to give him a challenge should the need arise.

It was a strange combination of feelings. Titus had never known peacetime, but he had imagined it to be much like this.

Then he opened the door of his chamber and found the Regent inside.

She was sitting in his armchair, looking at a dataslate with a stylus and a slight frowning. For a moment there the sight of her alone made Titus’s mind go completely blank, but then he walked a few steps forward and realized she was not alone.

Sisters Ashel and Gwenyth of the Chosen stood a few steps away from Anivia. They were fully armoured as the Sisters usually were and had their weapons with them. Although they were not biologically augmented like the Custodes or the Astartes, they tended to be quite tall due to years of combat and training. Compounded with the sense of wrongness inevitably created by their psychic absence, it was a miracle that anyone could have overlooked them.

“Give me a sec,” Anivia said without looking up from her dataslate.

There was no other chair in the room, so Titus sat on his bed.

Anivia bit the end of her stylus as she read. Her expression changed from a frown into amusement, then she gave Titus a side eye.

“The 2^nd Company is losing its Chaplain to the Deathwatch,” Anivia remarked. Then she scribbled something on the dataslate, hit send, and put it away.

“The Deathwatch?” Titus was surprised. The Deathwatch typically only called for the most distinguished combatants. Chaplains were often capable warriors, but they were not exactly selected for their combat prowess. Besides, even if they qualified, their duties were so intertwined within the internal culture of the Chapter that there was little to be gained for them to take a tour with the Deathwatch.

“Blackshield, I imagine.” Anivia said casually.

Titus blinked. Leandros was joining the Blackshield? What for?

Anivia shrugged, “go ask your brothers if you are curious.”

Titus didn’t know if he was that curious, but it might not hurt to reconvene with Gadriel and Chairon. He nodded.

“Well, it was not what I intended exactly, but I suppose it’ll work,” the Regent stretched her arms. “It’s the best I can do. Guilliman will just have to be okay with it.”

That was not entirely true—it was not the best Anivia could do. It was the best she cared to do, though.

Titus was surprised by this remark, “Lord Guilliman is aware of this?”

“Aware of how it was your own squat member who sent you to the Inquisition? Of course he is,” said Anivia. “He doesn’t know Leandros personally, though.”

Anivia had told Titus before that Guilliman knew of his time under Thrax and the reason behind his service with the Deathwatch, but that was, at least in Titus’s mind, a completely different matter from Leandros. He had thought that, since he was sent to work in close proximity with the 2^nd Company, Guilliman hadn’t cared to find out the actual details of how it all went down. The thought that the primarch knew not only that he served as a Blackshield, but that it was because of his failure to earn the trust of his brothers, made Titus dizzy.

“Why else did you think he sent you to me?” Anivia seemed amused, “it’s an awful mess of a situation. Two awful messes, actually. He sends all of those to me nowadays.”

Titus didn’t know how to respond to that.

Luckily, Anivia did not expect him to respond. She sat back in his armchair. With an expression that was impossible to read, she said, “now let’s talk about the other mess. Tell me of your immunity with the warp. Start from the beginning.”

It took Titus an hour to finish the full story.

It would’ve taken less, but Anivia wanted him to explain what each of those moments felt like. She wanted to know what emotions went thought his hearts and what thoughts went through his mind, and apparently ‘I need to win’ was not a good enough answer.

It was never easy for an Astartes to reflect upon what he was feeling—much of their hypno-conditioning had been designed to help them suppress emotions, and the centuries of war they had since endured had never called for such a reflection. Consequently, when Titus was done, he felt like he had just completed an arduous training course.

Anivia looked up at the Sisters.

Sister Ashel signed in Thoughtmark—Anivia had finally made the time to learn this language. Titus knew Battle Sign by heart but his Thoughtmark was not fluent. Because of the Sisters’ decline in status over the ten thousand years since the Emperor’s enthronement, most units had neglected Thoughtmark as a necessity, especially those that primarily operated away from Terra.

“That is what I expected,” said Anivia to Ashel, “but it’s good to have your confirmation. Do you think my request will be received well?”

The Sister hesitated, then she made a string of signs that Titus suspected was an elaborate negative.

Anivia sighed, “well, it’s going to have to happen. It’s the only option I’m willing to entertain.”

Ashel nodded and signed some more. Anivia tilted her head skeptically, “you really think that’s a good idea? We are far from the Somnus Citadel, but the Black Ships are everywhere. I don’t want to risk any misunderstanding.”

Ashel thought for a moment and conceded with a bow.

Anivia looked up at Titus again and said, point blank, “we think you are a blank, Titus. Possibly the first Pariah Astartes. Definitely the first we know of.”

Chapter Text

What did it mean to have a Pariah Astartes?

It might mean nothing. There were enough Sisters of Silence to form an army because there were trillions upon trillions of humans in the galaxy such that, even if the probability of producing a Pariah was very low, there were still enough of them to cover a battlefield. There were only about a million Astartes and they did not reproduce in the human way. Having a dozen or two Pariah might simply mean nothing.

But again, it might mean something. Pariahs were immune to warp corruption. If there was a way to build the Pariah effect into the Astartes’ gene-seed, the Imperium could fortify its most elite fighting forces against the most powerful weapon of the archenemy.

Either of these options was acceptable. The problem was finding out which one was true.

Titus could already see it. Years, decades, or even centuries of testing laid ahead of him. He would never leave the confinement of a lab. He would never spend a second of his life unmonitored. He would never be allowed to live or to die. He would never be human again.

“Whatever it is that you are thinking, it’s not going to happen.” As if reading his mind, the Regent spoke her verdict calmly and decisively.

It snapped Titus right out of it. He looked at her carefully. She was as determined as ever, but he was not sure if he could quite make himself believe her words.

The Regent leaned forward in Titus’s chair, clasped her hands together, and stated calmly, “you don’t know me well, Demetrian. I am not saying this as a wish or a promise, or even as a prophecy. I am saying this as an expression of my will. What you worry would happen will not happen. I will not let it.”

It was a strange thing to say. It was as if she wasn’t also just one soul among many, trying to fight against the current in this vast, miserable galaxy. But Titus suddenly remembered something: the way that the primarch had told him of his struggle with the Armour of Fate.

I cannot die. Not that it is impossible, but that I would not allow it. Guilliman had said.

When he first heard those words, half of Titus wondered, perhaps heretically, whether most of his brothers thought the same thing right before they perished in battle. The other half looked into Guilliman’s eyes and couldn’t help but believed him.

Now, he was seeing that exact same expression in the Regent’s eyes too.

Could the Imperium be held together by sheer force of will? Titus did not know, but he found himself nodding in response.

The Regent’s face softened a little. “I have to go to the Conclave and I expect that they will try to force my hand there,” she said. “I have given it some thought and here are my theoreticals: I don’t think the Grey Knights know about you. At least they wouldn’t have gotten this information early enough for it to play a significant factor in their planning. What this means is that my suspicion that the Grey Knights wanted me to impose order on the Inquisition might still be true. The Deathwatch certainly knows, which is why they’re inviting me to the Conclave. Now, here is the interesting part. There isn’t much that the Deathwatch can do with you. My hypothesis is that they are trying to use you to bargain with the Grey Knights. I think this is the real reason why Guilliman sent you to me as a Chosen.”

The Leandros situation was tricky, but Anivia could’ve dealt with it without really involving Titus at all. Now it all made sense.

She sighed, “as much as I loathe to admit it, Guilliman’s plan does work. As long as you are part of the Chosen, no one can pull enough strings to take you by force. This is probably why Mordelai needs to make it a High Conclave. I don’t think Guilliman expected him to go that far. And I don’t yet know what has made him desperate. Once the news gets out, there’s going to be a scouring race between the Inquisition and the Mechanicus.”

Titus understood the implication, “do you think there are more of my... condition out there?”

Anivia shrugged, “there’s no reason to think otherwise. It doesn’t sound like you developed this ability by consuming some artifact that’s one-of-a-kind in the universe.”

“What is the probability that the news has already reached some people?” Titus asked, “and that there is already research underway?”

“We will never know for sure, of course, but here are some reasons to think that that’s not the case,” said Anivia. “Thrax was a powerful Inquisitor and he spent a century trying to figure out what’s up with you. The fact that he didn’t manage to gather anything makes me think the Inquisition did not know. On the other hand, you went to Sotha with me and met Belisarius Cawl, who also did not take an interest in you. This makes me think the Mechanicus doesn’t know either. It seems to be the case, at least at present, that you do not emit the negative psychic aura that the Sisters do, though it’s unclear whether this has something to do with you being an Astartes or your power being not very strong yet.”

Titus nodded, then he hesitated. Like any warrior, he absolutely hated—and was perhaps terrified of—the idea of being confined in a lab, but he would do it if that was what duty demanded of him. He did not know if Anivia’s decision to stop it was the correct one.

After a moment of silence, he ventured, “this power to resist the corruptive touch of the warp...it could be invaluable to the Imperium.”

Anivia gave him a look which signaled simultaneously that she expected him to push back and that she was nevertheless disappointed when he did.

“ ‘Only in death does duty end—is no way to live’,” she quoted. “Wasn’t it your gene-sire who said this? Anyway, you will be trained and your gene-seed will be studied. There may be testing involved also. But you will be treated as a human and not a tool. If we start treating people like tools, the empire we build will not be the empire worth building.”

That...was a bold statement. Titus was sure that many Inquisitors would find it heretical. But again, many Inquisitors had already found the primarch’s emphasis on quality of life heretical.

“The training will be supervised by the Silent Sisterhood—or so I’m hoping. I have not met Sister-Commander Asurma yet and will need to convince her at some point,” said Anivia. “The research will be supervised by the Custodes. It’s going to have to involve the Mechanicus, but the specific personnel will need to be chosen carefully. None of this is urgent at the moment, except that you should brush up on your Thoughtmark. Sisters Ashel and Gwenyth have agreed to do some training with you, if you wish.”

“It will be my honour to study under you, Sisters,” Titus gave the two Sisters a proper salute. They returned the gesture. No one was under any illusion that this was going to be pleasant for anyone involved, but they decided to trust the Regent’s judgment.

Chapter Text

Macragge still had gardens.

Apparently it used to have a lot more, but after thousands of years of war, there were only two left within the purview of the Fortress of Hera. Both had been destroyed multiple times in the past and then restored. Apparently Guilliman’s adoptive mother, Tarasha Euten, was fond of gardens.

Terra did not have gardens. At least not the kind that was outside, under the actual sky, and had actual plants in them. No plant could survive the Terran atmosphere.

Anivia quite liked the gardens. On balance, she probably still preferred the view from up on high, but gardens were nice, too.

“Anivia!” A voice called. There was really only one person who would call her name like this.

“Yassilli,” Anivia turned toward her with a smile.

Yassilli’s joyous footsteps paused briefly after seeing the Astartes-sized table in front of Anivia that was covered in dataslates and parchments.

“I apologize for the intrusion my lord,” she said with hesitation. “Your adjutant Fujin told me you were free.”

“These are not urgent until tomorrow,” said Anivia. “That counts as being free for me.”

Yassilli grimaced and walked closer. She looked at the table curiously.

“Tetrarch Portan has finished preparation for the first wave of the Crusade supplies,” Anivia explained. “They plan to depart within 10 days. I am doing the final review.”

“Ah, so that is why the ports have tightened their security,” said Yassilli. “Do you think the current Nachmund Gauntlet war will cause any problem?”

“Of course it will,” said Anivia. “But based on Lord Calgar’s reports, I think we still have a good chance of sneaking something by.”

She pointed to a parchment of fleet formations. The plan was to send a fleet of small supply ships rather than one big one. Each of them had a small but autonomous team of warriors accompanying. Due to the shortage of space marine reserves, most of the troopers were drawn from the Imperial Guards and the Sororitas. Anivia also planned to send all of the newly arrived Custodes over, except for Valerian who needed to go to Talasa Prime with her.

“Any development on the Nachmund war?” Asked Yassilli.

Anivia shrugged, “you probably know about as much as I do. We’ve not lost yet and we’ve not won. I don’t receive anything more detailed than that. It’s not like the Lord Defender needs my input or permission for anything.”

“Fair enough,” Yassilli sighed. “I don’t mean to press for more information. I just wish I can be more useful.”

Anivia laughed, “you are quite useful alright, Yassilli. The information you’ve provided Tetrarch Portan about both Nachmund and Imperium Nihilus has been invaluable for the plan.”

“I know,” said Yassilli. “I’d like to do more.”

Anivia thought about it for a moment, “actually, there is something you can help me with.”

It was always a tricky decision whether to take Caslev to meet with mortals. On the one hand, Anivia understood the political power behind a baseline human lord using terrifying superhumans as bodyguards. On the other hand, Custodians were a little bit too out of ordinary people’s leagues that it sometimes defeated the purpose—people would freeze in wonder and awe and fail to register the existence of the human lord entirely.

After a brief contemplation, Anivia decided to take Caslev, Exium, Maxim, and Valerian. She was hoping that having two Custodians instead of one might ironically diffuse the situation.

It was not entirely clear whether this scheme had worked or if the Ultramar Auxilia on Macragge were just more used to seeing superhumans, they received Anivia with the utmost professionalism.

“We greet you with the highest respect, Lord Regent. Your visit do us great honour!”

The Colonel of the Macraggean regiment said in a very militaristic tone that made it difficult for Anivia to discern the degree of his genuineness. He also kept his eyes firmly fixed in front of him.

Despite having been the Master of the Administratum for many years and therefore technically in charge of the Departmento Munitorum, Anivia had not interacted with the Imperial Guards very much. The previous Master of the Munitorum, Violeta Roskavler, was competent enough that Anivia was mostly able to just leave her alone. In fact, Roskavler was so competent that she had now replaced Anivia as the Master of the Administratum.

Consequently, it was somewhat disorienting for Anivia to be in the presence of hundreds of highly professionalized soldiers none of whom was in a bulky power armour.

It was also confusing to Anivia why a meeting with the Colonel and the Major had led to the presence of what seemed to be all of the Captains, Lieutenants, and Sergeants of the regiment, assembled with impressive speed in the two hours since Anivia made the meeting request.

“Thank you, Colonel,” said Anivia. “I do not wish to disturb your training routine. I am here to ask you for a favour.”

“Anything you command, my lord!” The Colonel shouted.

“First, you can, um, relax a little. This isn’t a command,” Anivia tried to speak softly.

“Understood, my lord!” It did not work. The Colonel looked like he was getting ready to charge into battle any second now. Anivia shot Yassilli a quick glance. Yassilli appeared to be amused with an expression that reminded Anivia of Sulachana again. She sighed.

“Ok, anyway. This is Yassilli Sulymanya of the Logos Historica Veritas. Do you know of her?”

“Affirmative, my lord. Lord Sulymanya, it is an honour!”

“It is good to see you again, Colonel,” smiled Yassilli. “You do not have to be so nervous. I have not exaggerated our lord Anivia’s kindness in my remembrances.”

“Wait what?” Anivia turned to Yassilli with widened eyes.

“It is my job to record notable events to disseminate across the various Imperial structures, so as to facilitate a sense of unity,” explained Yassilli, with a strange mixture of pride and shyness. “Lord Guilliman tasked this to me personally. Under his direct orders, I have been documenting some activities of the high officials—nothing sensitive, of course. Nothing revealing about the inner workings of the offices. The goal is simply to make our lords more relatable to their subordinates. All records have been vetted by delegates from the Ultramarines and the Inquisition and none has left the Ultramar system.”

She was getting a little nervous now, under Anivia’s incredulous stare.

Anivia made herself blink and tried to appear less threatening. She was not angry. She instantly understood both the benefit of this action and the reason why it hadn’t been put on her radar—it sounded like Guilliman had planned it all out already and there was no reason to waste her time. Still, the thought that there were books about her, apparently quite flattering ones too, was dizzying.

Now she understood why so many guards had come, why the Colonel was so nervous, and why most of them were able to keep their eyes off of Caslev and Valerian.

Anivia wanted to vox Teka to ask if he knew (of course he did) and to chastise him for not telling her, but she suppressed the urge and forced herself to focus.

“Ok, good. This makes it easy,” she said. Her voice sounded distant to herself. “I want lord Sulymanya to stay with your regiment for a month. She will observe your troopers and to get to know them. I don’t need her to write a novel about them, though.”

“Yes, my lord!” The Colonel shouted again. Now Anivia recognized the excitement in his voice.

“They are not novels, my lord. They are non-fictional,” protested Yassilli. “I swear by every word I wrote, including that time I met you through Master Guelphrain by intruding on your meeting with an Inquisitor and walking in on your private counsel with the Chosen.”

It was very difficult for Anivia to suppress her eye-roll, but she managed.

Initially, Anivia had planned to wait until her second year of residency before reforming the Imperial Guards. Unfortunately, the rapid development of the situation with the Inquisition had thwarted this plan.

It was not a huge deal. The Imperial Guards had always been one of the more functional aspect of the Imperium. Besides, once the Astartes fell in line, the IGs would naturally follow. Still, Yassilli had been a pleasant surprise. With Yassilli’s experience as a rogue trader, having governed planets of her own dynasty as well as commanded military forces of various kinds, she needed very little training.

Anivia was happy with how it turned out. For once in quite a few months, she had a day with a net negative number of problems.

At least, that was what she thought until that evening.

Anivia had begun to develop a particular kind of intuition—she could almost predict by looking at someone’s facial expression alone whether they had brought problems or solutions.

It was not always accurate, of course, especially when it involved independently-minded people such as Yassilli. However, as soon as Anivia laid eyes on Fabian Guelphrain, she knew he was here with a problem.

Her only hope was that he had only one problem, making it a net zero number of problems for the day.

“Historitor Fabian, it’s good to see you,” Anivia smiled warmly. “Please, take a seat. Would you like some tea?”

“No, no, I...I’m here to...” Fabian gulped loudly, then changed his mind. “Actually, tea would be nice.”

Anivia made tea. She usually had servants for this kind of thing, but something on Fabian’s face made her not wanting to risk having more souls in this room than absolutely necessary.

Fabian reflexively reached for the tea cup and burned his fingers. He flinched in his seat and apologized.

“How may I be of help?” Anivia asked as calmly as she could.

“I, my lord, I...” Fabian hesitated, his eyes darted to Caslev and Exium, who were both standing against the wall. Neither of them was looking at him, but that didn’t help.

“Leave us,” commanded Anivia. “Let me speak with the Historitor in private.”

They both frowned. They did not like to contradict their lord’s wishes, but this was explicitly against Valoris’s orders. In the past, even when she took only Caslev to talk to Tyvar or only Valerian to talk to Arx, she at least respected the spirit of Valoris’s command. This was the first time she had directly overruled him.

“My lord...” Exium protested.

“I know,” Anivia said gently but firmly. “Just this once. Trust me and leave us.”

Chapter Text

Anivia engaged the privacy field and put it on the table. Then, she drank some tea.

“You seem to know what I’ve come here to talk about, my lord,” Fabian smiled weakly.

“I have some suspicions,” said Anivia, “but I want to hear it from you.”

Fabian nodded. He was somehow less nervous now, perhaps because he had already made up his mind. It was too late to regret it anyway. He took out a book and handed it to Anivia wordlessly.

Anivia flipped it over. She was going to read it but paused when she saw the title: The Reign of the Emperor Sanguinius, a history.

She looked up from the book at Fabian. He was observing her expression carefully. He was looking for rage, for shock, for confusion, but all he saw was calm.

“Do you...know of this?” He asked.

“No,” said Anivia. “Can you tell me what ‘this’ is?”

“It’s a book I found...in the Library of Ptolemy. The only book that survived the fire. A daemon gave it to me. I know I shouldn’t have but I read it anyway. I know I shouldn’t take it. I know that daemons are cunning and full of corruption...”

“Fabian,” Anivia interjected firmly. “It is your job to read books. It’s okay. Now, tell me what ‘this’ is.”

“It’s a... record of a project called Imperium Secundus,” said Fabian almost inaudibly. “It occurred during the Horus Heresy when Ultramar was cut off from the rest of the Imperium by a warp storm. Lord Guilliman reasoned that...that Terra might have already fallen and he should keep the Emperor’s dream alive by creating a second empire. They crowned Lord Sanguinius as Emperor.”

“I see,” said Anivia. “Were there other primarchs involved?”

“Yes, Lord Lion of the Dark Angels.”

“What happened next?”

“The empire stood for a period of five years. Then, it was abolished, with all records purged.”

“Why was that?”

“The book didn’t go into details on that part,” said Fabian. “My own research suggests that it was because they managed to catch wind of the fact that Terra still stood and decided to rush to its aid. Lord Sanguinius died not long after this, on Terra.”

“I see,” said Anivia again. She drank some tea and did not speak for a moment.

“I...I bring it to you because I think you should know,” Fabian said in a tone that was a little more determined than before. “I have seen what you have done for us, my lord, for the Imperium. I believe that you are the Emperor’s hand. I think you should know.”

“Even if I decide to kill you over it?” Asked Anivia calmly.

“If that is what you think is best, yes.” Fabian said without hesitation.

Anivia was a little surprised. Even before hearing what this book was about, she expected him to have come with the understanding that he might die. She did not expect him to expect to die, however. Looking up from her tea cup, she could see that he had played the circumstances of his death in his head perhaps hundreds of times already and decided that he was fine with all of them. In fact, it was unclear whether he had imagined any scenario in which he lived.

Anivia sighed gently.

“Thank you, Fabian,” she said in a whisper, “your trust means a lot to me. I will try my best to live up to that trust.”

Fabian smiled and closed his eyes.

A moment of silence.

“Did you think I was going to kill you?” Anivia broke the silence with a chuckle, “you look like you’re getting ready to die.”

“Um, are you not? My lord?” Fabian said with genuine confusion, “I wouldn’t resent you for it.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be able to resent me anyway if you were dead,” mused Anivia. “No, I’m not planning on killing you. I don’t see the need.”

“But I…I know of Imperium Secundus. I know too much!”

Anivia shrugged, “how much is too much? As Chief Librarian Tigurius would say, knowledge is only dangerous for the unprepared mind. Your mind seems pretty prepared to me.”

“Lord Tigurius! He was the one who saved me from the Library of Ptolemy,” said Fabian with some sadness. “I hope he doesn’t find out what else he has saved.”

Anivia smiled faintly, “you have a good heart, Fabian, but I need you to use your brain for now. Think for me, will you? What should we do?”

“What...should we do?” Fabian repeated with a dreamy tone, like he had never considered this question before.

“That’s right,” said Anivia encouragingly. “You have nothing to lose now so you might as well think. We can burn this book and keep it a secret. What are the risks? Well, a daemon does know of it and might use it against us. What else might we do?”

“We can...put it in the records,” said Fabian. His throat was dry. He had been so obsessed with this thought that he had been unable to look past it.

“That is an option,” agreed Anivia calmly. “What are the risks?”

“People will come to see Lord Guilliman as a heretic who is—” he gulped “—trying to usurp the Emperor.”

To be completely honest, Anivia found this idea ridiculous. It was not like the Emperor was ruling his empire before Guilliman returned, and so it was not like there was anything to usurp. Even if the Emperor could descend from his Golden Throne and rule humanity once more—which did not seem like a possibility even if his plan with Anivia worked out perfectly—Guilliman would’ve definitely surrendered all of his control on the Imperium immediately. Guilliman so obviously hated managing the Imperium that it baffled Anivia why anyone would think he’d want to usurp his father.

But that, of course, was beside the point. Anivia took care to let none of her own emotions show. “Do you think it might be true?” She asked neutrally.

“No!” Fabian seemed abhorred by the suggestion. Then he caught himself and explained, “Lord Guilliman has done so much for the Imperium! Some people think he wields his power for his own gain but they’re just wrong. Lord Guilliman conceded so much to them. He broke up the Unnumbered Sons to prove he isn’t a legion builder even though it only makes his Crusade harder. What he did during Imperium Secundus…well he didn’t know the truth, right? He wouldn’t have done it if he knew.”

Anivia held Fabian’s gaze with a gentle smile.

“I’m babbling again,” Fabian blushed. “I really don’t want people to misunderstand Lord Guilliman. I just don’t know what to do.”

For a second there Anivia wanted to hug him. This man, so fragile and nervous and mortal, had dedicated his entire life to the pursuit of truth, and he was willing to give everything away—to give his life away—to protect a demigod. This was the empire worth building.

Anivia had to take a moment to calm herself so that her voice could come out as even as it needed to be.

“Do you think people are understanding him correctly now?” She asked.

“No,” Fabian replied discouragingly. “Lord Guilliman told me of the Remembrancer Order of the Great Crusade. He said that he used to think their job was just to document the events so Imperial citizens could be properly informed, but now he understood that its role was also to form connections between the different Imperial factions by providing different perspectives of these events and he wished he had taken it more seriously. I didn’t know what he meant then. Now I think I do.”

“It is unfortunate that our actions do not always speak for themselves,” agreed Anivia. “But at the same time, it is a good thing that we have many different perspectives on offer.”

“Yes, I remember you saying this to Yassilli,” Fabian smiled. “Truth can be plural. In fact, it is you who taught me the importance of valuing different perspectives, my lord. I want my history to be more than just records, to be more than just true. I want my history to unite people, just like the old Remembrancer Order.”

He seemed to be surprised by what he just said.

Anivia waited for him to think.

Fabian stared into space for a long time. Long enough for Anivia to mentally draft the crew she planned to take to Talasa Prime. Then he said softly, “I think I know what to do.”

Anivia waited for him to elaborate.

“People need to understand him,” said Fabian. “They need to understand his predicament and his resolve. I will make people understand. Then, I will record this history in a proper light.”

“Do you mean to rewrite this book?” Asked Anivia.

“Not a full rewrite, but with extensive commentary to provide context,” said Fabian. His eyes began to shine as the idea took shape in his head, “not all histories are fit for massive dissemination anyway. I will provide enough background for any careful student of history to acquire the right perspective if they ever choose to open this book.”

Anivia smiled, “that sounds like a good plan.”

“My lord—” Before leaving the room, Fabian paused by the door. He turned around and asked, hesitantly, “is this the right course of action?”

“I don’t know,” said Anivia. “I don’t think that is the kind of question anyone can know.”

Fabian thought about it for a moment and said, “but you trust me.”

“If there were such a thing as the right course of action, then there wouldn’t be a need for trust, would there?” Anivia smiled, “I trust you, Fabian. The Imperium needs to learn to trust people like you.”

He nodded slowly, seemingly not entirely understanding the idea. Then he asked a different question, “I have been told that you are not especially keen on the subject of history, my lord. But when I finish this book, will you read it?”

“I will,” Anivia promised.

“Good night, my lord,” Fabian smiled.

The day turned out to have a net negative number of problems after all.

Chapter Text

Shortly after Tetrarch Portan’s supply fleet left Ultramar, Anivia departed from Macragge.

She took all of her Chosen except for Titus and Dragory. Arx’s comment to this was “such a bastard move”, which Anivia had elected to take as a compliment.

She also had the Wolves go on a separate warship, one much bigger than their number warranted, bolstered by enough Imperial Guard supports to appear like an actual army. Teka’s comment was “that’s savage, my lord”, which Anivia had also elected to take as a compliment.

Ragnar’s comment to the entire plan was a ferocious smile and “I like it”. For some reason, this one was much harder to take as a compliment.

Anivia traveled on Arx’s ship. It was much smaller than the warships commanded by the Ultramarines. For one, it was not built with the expectation of housing Astartes. There was one Astartes armoury and several rooms big enough for Astartes-sized furniture, but everything else was human-sized. Anivia just realized that this might have been the first time where she lived in a structure that was primarily designed for humans.

Despite its size, Arx’s ship was more secure than most. Anivia exercised the appropriate political sensibility and did not demand a complete asset report from the shipmaster, but almost everyone she passed by on the bridge was a skilled fighter.

“Don’t be so nervous,” Anivia whispered through the corner of her mouth.

“My lord—” Maxim started in a complainy tone but didn’t actually know how to continue. He had a headache from the two Sisters of Silence standing not so far from him, but he cherished this pain. He was never really close with the Grey Knight Dragory, but he dearly wished Dragory was here. The number of psykers on this ship made him very uncomfortable.

Anivia looked at him through the corner of her eyes with faint amusement, “if it makes you feel better, there are exponentially fewer assassins on this ship than there are in the Imperial Palace.”

Maxim pressed his lips tightly. He was not a naive optimist about human nature or the state of the Imperium, but the thought of there being dozens or even hundreds of assassins roaming the Imperial Palace, waiting to strike down some lord or other, made his stomach turn.

Anivia’s smile deepened but she said nothing more.

The trip was uneventful. Arx had top-tier ship, navigators, and crew. Anivia spent most of her time planning out alternative scenarios and contingency plans with Valerian, Heinrix, and Maxim. She had decided not to bring either of her adjutants along. She hoped no one could tell that this was because of how dangerous she was expecting the Conclave to turn out, but she suspected that Valerian did. He had looked at her with the closest thing to disapproval that any Custodian had managed to do since she became their lord.

“Here, a list of all the battlecruisers in the Talasa system, based on the ship’s auspex,” Valerian put a piece of parchment on the table, “not the final list, but it should suffice for now.”

“How did you get this, lord Valerian?” Heinrix raised his eyebrow in surprise. When he last approached an officer for the same intel, he was given a bunch of nonsense delay tactics.

“I asked,” replied Valerian. Then he thought about it for a moment and added diplomatically, “I thought they might be more willing to cooperate if I personally asked them.”

Anivia snorted. Heinrix might have been an Inquisitor, but they were on a Lord Inquisitor’s ship and his guns were simply not big enough. The Custodes, on the other hand, were on an entirely different plane.

Heinrix sighed, “that was wise. Thank you, lord Valerian.”

Valerian gave a shy smile. Since leaving Terra, he had learned of how much his identity alone meant for citizens of the Imperium and he had begun to learn to wield it like a weapon. He soon found this weapon to be much more difficult to master than his power spear. He was still somewhat uncomfortable with it, but he had also learned to act before reaching certainty.

It took Anivia a few more minutes than all of the superhumans to process the information on the parchment. “More or less as I expected,” she said neutrally.

“Two Sororitas ships?” Heinrix asked in surprise, “the Order of Our Martyred Lady?”

“And the Order of the Sacred Rose, yes,” Anivia confirmed. “Canoness Joghilde has informed me of this possibility.”

“The Order of the Sacred Rose operates primarily within the Ultima Segmentum,” said Maxim, “but I hear that they lost great numbers to the Cicatrix Maledictum.”

“That is my understanding as well,” said Anivia. “The alleged agenda of this Conclave is Imperium Nihilus, which I think is why they are here.”

“Have you been in contact with them?” Asked Heinrix.

“Not yet. They are—somewhat fatalistic. They believe they are conduits of the Emperor’s will, which makes negotiation tricky.” Anivia was still studying the parchment closely, “at the same time, they’ve been pretty good. I don’t have much gripe with them yet.”

“Is this…the Black Templars?” Valerian pointed to one of the ships that has not been properly identified.

“Probably,” said Anivia. “I expect both of these to be the Black Templars.” She pointed to another unidentified ship. “Possibly more to come.”

“If those are the Black Templars, then the Wolves seem to be delayed,” observed Heinrix. “Warp influence, no doubt.”

“Probably,” said Anivia. “The Grey Knights are also lower in numbers than I was hoping for. Let’s hope Lord Calgar’s assessment of Watch Master Mordelai’s character is accurate, or else there might be a real chance for a civil war on our hands.”

If Teka was here, he would’ve said: or you can choose to hold back a little, my lord. To which Anivia would’ve responded: not in a million years.

As it was, all that happened was for those who were present to give their lord a wary side eye, which their lord, of course, ignored.

Anivia had never visited a fortress world before and, truth be told, had also never had the desire to. Fortunately, a tour of Talasa Prime was not on Mordelai’s agenda.

Moredelai was tall. He had crossed the Rubicon and stood talker than Exium, almost as tall as Valerian and Caslev. He was also bulkier than the Custodes, which was not that unusual since the Custodes were not augmented with extra organs like the Astartes were.

Anivia observed Valerian from the corner of her eyes and was relieved to see him striding as calmly as usual. She probably wouldn’t be able to pick out any hesitation if he had tried to hide any, but he also wouldn’t have tried hiding from her observations if he was truly nervous about her safety.

“Lord Regent,” said Mordelai with a deep voice. He gave her a standard salute.

“Watch Master,” Anivia greeted him back. He had a scarred face, one that looked like it had been clawed open and sown back at least three or four times. His skin was patches of uneven brown, some more natural than others. His eyes were dark and serious.

“I thank you for your attendance,” he said. “It is my understanding that the Lord Commander has put the Imperial Nihilus military supply logistics under your care.”

“That is correct,” said Anivia as they made their way through the very tall but very bleakly decorated hallways.

“Are we expecting anyone else from Ultramar?” He asked.

“I do not believe so,” she replied.

It was a calculated answer. The true answer is ‘no’ since Calgar had already told her he wasn’t coming. But to say that directly would be to accept Mordelai’s assumption that Anivia was in charge of Guilliman’s Ultramar, which was not true. At the same time, she elected to not play dumb with an ‘I don’t know’ as a token of good will. All of this calculation was completed in an instant, perhaps as long as it took Mordelai to subconsciously calculate his chances of winning a fight against her retinue.

It was not clear if he picked up on the gesture, but her intention was not to please him. At least not consciously.

“It will take the dock yard another hour to receive everyone,” said Mordelai. “If you wish to rest, I can message you when we are ready to begin.”

“I am alright, thank you,” said Anivia. “I will wait in the meeting hall.”

Mordelai nodded.

They took the remaining journey wordlessly until they reached the meeting hall. Anivia stopped at the door. She took something off from her belt and held it up to Mordelai.

Mordelai’s hand froze half way in motion as soon as he took a good look at the thing. His eyes widened in surprise.

“You are the one who planned this, Watch Master,” Anivia said matter-of-factly, “you know the risks.”

It was true that he knew there would be risks involved in this plan, but he couldn’t help but feel her sentiment disingenuous. The risks were a lot tamer when he was planning it, which he thought was going to be on Macragge. He couldn’t help but feel that his plan had entirely spiraled out of control by now.

Anivia was still holding her hand out, now looking at him with an expression like a challenge.

He took the object.

The Regent’s sigil barely covered a quarter of his palm. It was a simple design: the aquila and the title in High Gothic. The most important part of the sigil was the gene-lock at the center, which was configured to immediately scan his biometrics upon contact so people would know that the sigil was voluntarily handed to him by the Regent.

“Wait,” Mordelai called out just as she was getting ready to enter the hall. “Are you certain I am the right person?” He asked.

She looked up at him with a hint of amusement.

“Shouldn’t this be a question only you can answer, Watch Master?” She smiled and opened the door.

Chapter Text

Anivia had a hot take, which was that the most important aspect of a meeting was not in the exchanging of information but in the revealing of character. She came to believe this, she suspected, first because of her role as the observer from the shadows and later in her collaboration with Tieron. It was, in many ways, the modus operandi of the unpowerful, which she had long ceased to be, but old habits died hard.

There were at least 200 Inquisitors present, each with at least 2 or 3 acolytes in tow, making the whole event quite a spectacle.

There was no central throne as all Inquisitors were equals. However, in typical Imperium fashion, some were more equal than others.

Curiously, the most important people sat in the outer-most circle, perhaps so that they would not need to expose their backs to anyone else.

In an attempt to not appear like she was expecting a catastrophe, Anivia brought only the two Sisters and the two Custodes, leaving the rest guarding the hallways. That might have been overly sensitive on her part, seeing that there were three command squads’ worth of space marines in this hall. And that was before Ragnar even got here.

One of these squads was led by Grand Master Caddon Varn of the Grey Knights. His pale eyes glanced over Anivia’s retinue, no doubt registering the absence of Dragory but betraying no sign.

“Why is the Imperial Regent in attendance at an Inquisitorial Conclave?” One of the Lord Inquisitors demanded, “the Inquisition has no obligation to the Regency.”

“The Regent is here as my esteemed guest,” said Mordelai coldly, “as are the Black Templars. Besides, the Inquisition answers to the Emperor on Terra, whom the Regent represents.”

“Everyone claims to represent the Emperor nowadays,” growled the Black Templar Marshal. The Canoness from Our Martyred Lady standing not far from him gave a look but said nothing.

“We are all here for one purpose—to burn His enemies and to take back His realm,” the Sister-Commander from the Order of the Sacred Rose said impatiently.

“We are here to discuss Imperium Nihilus,” agreed Mordelai.

“What is there to discuss?” Asked another Inquisitor, “isn’t the primarch’s Crusade already there, fighting as we speak?”

“I fail to see the relevance of this information,” said the Marshal coldly. “The primarch fights his war. We fight our own.”

“You speak in division, Marshal, when the Emperor demands unity,” said the Canoness softly.

“I speak of practicality, Sister,” hissed the Marshal. “The primarch has been successful by defying the sacred work of the God Emperor Himself. It is time we show him another way—a better way.”

Murmur erupted in the hall. It was no secret that many, especially those of faith, were unhappy with Guilliman’s collaboration with Cawl, and the Marshal’s rebuke was not in itself surprising. What people were reacting to was what he said in that last part.

Varn asked calmly, “and what is this other way that you speak of, Marshal?”

“Isn’t that why the Regent is here?” The Marshal smirked, looking down at Anivia.

Hundreds of pairs of eyes fell upon Anivia, who remained unfazed. She did not speak.

“I do not doubt that the Lord Commander acts by the will of the Emperor,” said Mordelai slowly, “but the Marshal is correct in his statement that there are more manifestations of the Emperor’s blessings than one.”

Mordelai kept his gaze fixed on Anivia as he addressed the room, waiting for her interjection, but she gave none. So he continued, “it is often through the most testing of battles that reveals a man’s true potential. Through careful observation and analysis, I believe we may have observed the first instance of Anathema Psykana in Astartes.”

The murmurs that ensued were deafeningly loud. Dozens of people spoke at the same time, demanding clarification, identification, authorization. Instead of quieting the room, Mordelai still stared at Anivia. She neither flinched nor spoke.

After several attempts by the more senior members of the Conclave, the room quieted to an acceptable degree.

“What is the meaning of this?” Demanded one of the more powerful Lord Inquisitors.

“I believe it is time for the Regent to speak,” said the Marshal. “After all, the individual in question is currently under her command.”

Anivia smiled. It was almost like déjà vu from a previous life, except that, unlike Fadix, the Marshal of the Black Templars probably was actually underestimating her.

“Just as the Marshal points out, it is now more important than ever that we fight with every weapon available to us,” she said calmly. “However, the Sister is also correct in emphasizing the importance of unity over division in these trying times. I have come with the intention of progressing on both fronts.”

For a human who had never seen battle, her calmness was almost unnerving. The Marshal narrowed his eyes but she did not return his gaze.

“A weapon is only as good as the hand that wields it. Or, in our case, the hand that is willing to wield it.” Anivia’s smile had disappeared and she was addressing the entire room now, “the Inquisition has always drawn its strength from the diversity of its approaches. Yet no progress can be made if all we ever do is being boggled down by the same cycle of divisions.”

She raised her gaze pointedly at Varn.

“My Order does what it judges to be the best for the Imperium, in accordance with the founding principles established by the Emperor Himself,” Varn said stoically.

“And what if that judgment is made in error?” Asked Anivia. Her tone was not accusatory, but it was difficult to read it as anything but.

“If we follow the Emperor’s guiding light, we would never err,” said the Sister-Commander from the Order of the Sacred Rose. She had no context for this exchange, but she looked at Anivia with a frown.

Before Anivia could answer, however, the door of the meeting hall opened. The Space Wolves had arrived.

Ragnar Blackmane walked in with five of his brothers. He wore a savage grin, walking with a swagger that had his arm always swinging close to his weapons, though never really touching them. He did not apologize for his late arrival. Nor did he greet anyone. He simply found an empty seat and sat down.

“Why are the Space Wolves here?” Someone complained, “this is supposed to be an Inquisitorial Conclave.”

To the surprise of many, Ragnar answered him, “because it is too difficult to find you cowards otherwise.”

Almost none of the human Inquisitors took offense—they were all too politically savvy for that. The Grey Knights, however, gritted their teeth.

“Of all places, Lord Regent,” said Varn slowly, “this might not be the right one to let your dogs loose.”

The Space Wolves growled. Although no weapon had been drawn, the tension of 12 space marines staring each other down was almost too much to bear even for the Inquisitors.

The Marshal of the Black Templars glanced at Mordelai. Both of them were sons of Dorn, with the same stoicism and coldness. Yet the Marshal could tell that Mordelai was not enraged. This irritated him.

“We are off topic,” said the Marshal, “what matters the most for us now is to pull all our resources together so we can march onto Imperium Nihilus. For that purpose, I will have to ask you to disclose the whereabouts of the Anathema Astartes, Lord Regent, so that his abilities could be further studied.”

“The individual in question is under the care of the Order of the Silent Sisterhood,” said Anivia coldly, “now that you mentioned it, Marshal, I believe your quest for information has a better target than myself. The said individual has been detained, with no due process, by an Ordo Malleus Inquisitor for over a century. Surely important information would have been gathered about his nature during such a long time.”

The room stirred. Not all of them had heard of the rumours about Thrax, but enough had.

The Marshal did not immediately respond. He couldn’t help but feel that he had just been used as a tool, but he couldn’t quite figure out how to get out of this situation.

“The Inquisitor responsible has since been executed for heresy, Lord Regent,” said Arx.

“I fail to see the relevance of this information,” said the Regent, “a capable warrior, veteran of many wars and recipient of many honours, one with special abilities that have the potential to let us fight back Chaos like never before, was detained without due process for a hundred years, with no data to be shared at the end of it. What is the point of developing new weapons if this is how we will treat them?”

More murmurs.

Arx waited for people to process the information a little before responding, “it was a mistake, made by one corrupted Inquisitor. We have corrected that mistake.”

“It was the act of one individual,” agreed Anivia, “and yet it alone was enough to doom the entire project in its infancy. How is this not a more serious problem to address than the investigation of new weapons?”

Arx’s eyes narrowed, “what do you suggest instead?”

As Anivia presented her case, she couldn’t help but wonder if anyone in this room, an especially powerful psyker, perhaps, or someone with a natural talent for court politics, could see through how rehearsed all of this was. Like a carefully crafted regicide board, every piece was precisely placed where it needed to be. The Canoness of the Sororitas spoke of faith and unity. The Inquisitorial Representative raised matters of politics. The Watch Master of the Deathwatch and the Grand Master of the Grey Knights balanced each other so perfectly that, although both technically had the authority to do so, neither was able to present any real challenge to the Regent. All of this while the Wolf Lord of a Great Company grinned savagely at them all, reminding them of the external pressures they could no longer ignore.

The Black Templars, the Sisters of the Sacred Rose, and all the other Lord Inquisitors in the room felt like they were swept away by an unstoppable current in the darkness, unable to know just how many other victims there were or if they were the only ones not yet absorbed by the hurricane, only now being taken for the ride. Everything moved so fast, it was like the ground melted below their feet and everything was about to crumble down, except—

Except the Regent’s clarity.

A proposal that would have been outrageous to any of them in any other time and circumstance looked, all of a sudden, not only innocently reasonable, but positively desirable. Who else could shoulder the responsibility for the Inquisition other than the Imperial Regent herself—the Hand of the Emperor?

One by one, they found themselves nodding in agreement. The Inquisition would hold on to its independence. It would allow an extra set of procedures—ones that were already in practice with some factions of power—be institutionalized in exchange for the Regent’s protection. And the Inquisition was, as this Conclave had made clear, in need of protection. It had gone in open war against the Space Wolves and have almost done so once more against the Ultramarines. Now, substantive elements from all three Chambers Militant had placed more trust in the Regent than in each other. It was the best outcome for them all.

The meeting lasted another 6 hours where they debated details and implementations. In the end, they conceded more than Anivia expected. In addition to the auditing structure she had proposed, Anivia managed to institute the Regency as the head of the Inquisition.

It seemed, Anivia suddenly realized when the meeting came to a close, that she was actually beginning to rule like Malcador.

Chapter Text

All things considered, she was glad that it happened after the conclusion of the meeting rather than before, though she couldn’t tell how much of this gladness came from her shock at her own ability to concentrate this intensely for 6 hours and not knowing if she would be able to pull it off if she tried it again. On the other hand, the timing was utterly inconvenient: just as one of the most powerful faction of the Imperium made the most substantive concession of power in Imperial history, the person whom the power was conceded to disappeared. It was utterly inconvenient.

But again, Chaos was not known for being convenient.

Anivia managed to catch very little of what actually happened. Just as they were about to leave the meeting hall, the entire fortress shook. All vox channels sounded at the same time, half with daemonic screeching that instantly sent a dozen psykers into madness. The other half might’ve had real intel but people understandably did not wish to listen too closely.

Anivia’s own vox channel was free of daemons but filled with static interference. All she managed to pick up was Exium’s voice shouting “space hulk” and “attack”.

Space hulks were massive conglomeration of asteroids and ship wrecks fused together over time, Anivia knew this much. The Watch Fortress shook violently, as if something gigantic collided with its voidshield. In fact, Anivia was thrown off by the shaking so much she almost flew into a wall. Valerian instantly caught her and held her tightly by the waist. He activated his power spear with the other hand.

“Daemons,” Valerian muttered under his breath. As if two bodies sharing the same soul, he positioned himself next to the Silent Sister Ashel, forming a single combat unit. Caslev did the same with Gwenyth.

With all the psykers going mad and the Watch Fortress shaking left and right, it was not entirely clear that the daemons were actually here. But the Custodians knew their daemons. Valerian’s spear sliced through what appeared to be thin air and, with a sharp screech and a thud, two halves of a daemon’s body fell onto the floor next to Ashel, before disintegrating into black smoke.

Anivia tried not to scream as she held on to Valerian’s arm. He quickly assessed the situation and gave orders to the Chosen. They could not evacuate exactly—even if they could make it back to the ship, it was likely more dangerous there than here. He decided to regroup with the rest of the Chosen somewhere with fewer psykers going insane and blasting their heads out.

As they moved further away from the meeting hall, however, it quickly became apparent that Anivia was the target. More and more daemons came after her.

Although all communication devices were quickly rendered useless, the Grey Knights seemed to have caught on. They began to fight their way over to Anivia, which stirred the warp even more.

“Take this teleporter and get on my ship!” Varn shouted before throwing the teleporter at Valerian. The latter caught and immediately activated it.

And that was when things went wrong.

Anivia walked alone in darkness.

As soon as she realized this, she stopped. There was a sense of something gently tugging at her chest, urging her to move forward, but she ignored it.

She was glowing a faint golden light, enough for her to see her own body but not enough to illuminate anything around her. She was not carrying a dagger. The realization made her nervous.

The tugging became more urgent and she resumed walking.

She did not know where she was going, but she picked up the pace. Something was pursuing her. Something bad. Something that made her miss that dagger.

Anivia began to run. She tried to remember the military training she did all those years ago. She tried to control her breathing and she did not look back.

Faster. Faster.

She ran for what felt like an eternity but the thing just would not leave her alone. It was closer now. It was toying with her which, frankly, she preferred to imminent death. But it was closer now.

Anivia tripped and fell. It was right behind her now. She could feel its filthy breath. Then—

“Are you alright?”

A light shone through the darkness almost blindingly bright. Anivia half closed her eyes in adjustment.

The boy raised his hand to cast a shadow over her eyes in assistance.

“Are you alright?” He asked again.

“I—” It was one of the very rare occasions on which Anivia didn’t know what to say. She sat on the ground and looked around her.

The world was...lush. The ground she was sitting on was covered in grass and wild flower. The sky was blue and the clouds looked like cotton. It looked like some of the pics Anivia had seen on Macragge, of what Iax used to be, but better.

She could no longer sense the thing, but she looked around her to make sure.

“Are you looking for something?” The boy asked.

Anivia finally rested her gaze back on the boy. She gave him a soft smile, “I think I’m alright, thank you.”

“That’s a relief,” the boy smiled back, his golden eyes glittered in the sunlight.

Anivia got up from the ground and walked with the boy, slowly and somewhat aimlessly. She had many questions she’d like to ask him, but she couldn’t tell if she should.

Finally, she decided to ask, “are you here by yourself?”

“Yes,” the boy answered, his voice a little sad.

“Does it get lonely?” She asked.

“A little,” he said, “I used to have a friend. He promised me he’d be here for me forever. But he’s gone now.”

“Do you take that as a lie?”

The boy thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said. “Should I?”

Anivia shrugged, “I think it’s up to you.”

The boy fell silent for some time. Then he asked her, “are you lonely too?”

Anivia smiled, “no. I have you with me, don’t I?”

The boy’s smile was a little shy, “but what about before you came here? What about after you leave?”

“I will find others to walk with me,” she said. “I always do.”

“But none of them is exactly like you,” he pointed out. “None of them is exactly like your sisters.”

“No two people are exactly alike, that is true,” agreed Anivia. “But that is the beauty of it, isn’t it?”

The boy thought about her words.

“Do you miss them?” Asked Anivia. “Do you miss all of them, even though none of them is exactly like each other?”

The boy smiled again, “you are right, I suppose. I’m glad they have you now.”

Anivia sighed, “they must be worried sick.”

The boy chuckled, “I can’t help you there.”

“Do you know the way back?” Anivia asked.

“No,” said the boy. “I only know the way forward.”

He pointed ahead of him to a forest of deep, lush green. Anivia had never been to a forest before. This one looked dangerous.

“Would you—like to go with me?”

The boy seemed a little startled by the offer. He hesitated for a moment and shook his head. He looked a little sad just now.

Anivia knelt down before him and gave him a gentle hug. He was not surprised by the gesture, but he seemed to be quite unused to the feeling.

“I am trying; he is trying,” she whispered. “I will come back for you eventually.”

I will come back for you eventually, the child of stars.

Chapter Text

As far as non-military personnel went, Anivia was an okay runner. She was reasonably fit and had a steady mindset that was important for runners.

However, forest running was an entirely different beast. Anivia’s sense of direction went out the window the first time she almost ran into a tree, which was about 5 seconds in. In the next throne-knows-how-long, she tripped so many times she genuinely did not know if walking would’ve been faster.

But the thing... it was howling behind her. Luckily for Anivia, it seemed to be as unfit for the forest as she was.

This way.

A voice said in her head, but Anivia was too exhausted to discern whether it was friendly or where ‘this way’ was supposed to be.

She tried to think about whether it was wise to stop and think for a moment or if she should just keep running. Then, her body decided to do neither.

Anivia fell.

Before she even hit the ground, she instinctively turned around and raised her arm to cover her head, as if this was going to stop any form of attack. But then, a golden light shone—

It took Anivia a moment to realize that she hadn’t died. She didn’t seriously think that the Emperor was going to send her on a death path but, having worked closely with both of his ‘not the martially gifted son’ and ‘not soldiers but companions’, Anivia couldn’t help but suspect he must’ve occasionally misjudged her survival abilities.

When the light faded, she was still alive. She reluctantly opened her eyes.

It took some adjusting to the new light conditions to see that she was no longer in the forest, but no sooner did she breathe a sigh of relief that she heard a deep, authoritative, and unfriendly voice.

“Who are you?”

That was always the question they ask. Who are you? As if they would know.

“I am Anivia,” she said. Even though she couldn’t tell where the voice came from or even if the source was human, she could tell that her name meant nothing to him. Just as she suspected.

“How did you get here?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I don’t even know where ‘here’ is.”

She blinked a few more times to help her eyes adjust, but there was only so much a pair of unaugmented eyes could see in this low light. She could tell that the floor under her was a greyish metal, not unlike standard Imperial ship deck. The voice came from somewhere nebulously above her. Too high up, she thought, to be standard human. Too human to be Mechanicum.

“You are on the Imperial warship Lunar Knight,” the voice said, “I am Lion El’Johnson, primarch of the Dark Angels.”

A moment of pause.

Then, Anivia gave what was probably the most standard response.

“Wha—” she clumsily flipped herself around and squinted at him. Finally understanding her predicament, he turned up the lumens.

He was—certainly primarch sized.

It had been two years since Anivia left Terra and she had mostly forgotten about the statues of the primarchs she used to walk by on her way to work everyday. Truth be told, she never really paid attention even back then. So she couldn’t really say if her inability to recognize his face meant anything.

“Where were you before you got here?” He asked.

Judging by the fact that he had stated his name, Anivia’s guess was that his default expectation was for others to doubt his identity. Yet he did not linger on this topic, possibly because he did not yet have a simple way of proving himself and had discovered that acting as if he was taken seriously was the best way to go.

“I was on Talasa Prime,” said Anivia. Primarch or not, it was generally speaking not a good idea to lie to a superhuman unless one absolutely had to.

He frowned, “the Talasa system is in the Ultima Segmentum. If I’m understanding it correctly, we are also in the Ultima Segmentum. Is this a warp travel gone awry?”

Curious. Most people would not think of the Talasa system upon hearing the name Talasa Prime.

“A teleportation gone awry,” said Anivia. “May I ask, my Lord Lion, how long have you returned?”

“Not long,” he said reservedly, “you seem to know much about the Imperium and you are not afraid of me. Are you military?”

“No,” Anivia said. Then she took a moment to choose her words, “but I am in charge of organizing military supply for the Indomitus Crusade.”

“What is that?” He asked.

“A Crusade launched by the returned primarch Roboute Guilliman,” Anivia answered, and braced herself.

The delight in the Lion’s eyes was a wonderful sight to behold.

Its intensity alone was enough to convince her of his identity—only another truly loyal son of the Emperor would be so glad to hear the news of Guilliman’s return.

It was, unfortunately, short lived. The Lion quickly noticed the curvature of Anivia’s mouth and hid his own reaction in response.

“Tell me about my brother’s return and this Crusade of his,” he demanded.

Before Anivia could answer and almost as an afterthought, his face softened, and he added, “before that—are you hurt? Do you require food or water?”

“I don’t think I am hurt, my Lord,” Anivia tried to hide her smile this time, “but I’d like to sit on a chair if you have one.”

Just like the Lion, Anivia had no actual means of proving her identity. She had left the Regent’s sigil to Mordelai to save his life. Even if she still had it, no one from Imperial Nihilus would’ve known that the Imperium was doing Regency again.

Apparently there was a psyker who had verified the Lion’s identity for the human rulers who were now part of his protectorate, but the psyker was not currently onboard. Fortunately, Anivia’s obvious lack of physical strength worked in her favour and the Lion treated her with surprising civility.

There were several Astartes onboard the ship. Not nearly enough to count as a Chapter, they wore sigils of the Dark Angels and armours of grey. Anivia couldn’t ever boast of memorizing all heraldries of the thousand Astartes Chapters that were constantly being reformed outside of Adeptus Terra documentation, but she was pretty sure the Dark Angels wore green armour.

She was not going to comment, but apparently her gaze lingered on their armour just a fraction of a second too long, because the Lion felt the need to sternly clarify: “these are my loyal sons and protectors of the Imperium.”

“And I thank you for your service,” Anivia replied noncommittally.

The Lion stared at her for a moment but he held his anger in check. A curious response, thought Anivia. She wondered if she had offended his sense of ownership over the Imperium or his sense of ownership over his sons.

“You are…a Terran lord, are you not?” Asked the Dark Angel who was introduced as Zabriel. He looked old and sounded older.

“I was hoping we didn’t have to do this, but you are correct,” Anivia smiled faintly, “before Lord Guilliman’s return, I was the Master of the Administratum. Since two years ago, he has made me Imperial Regent.”

“A baseline human? Nonsense.” The Lion blurted out without thinking, “my brother may have many flaws, but naïveté is not one of them.”

Anivia almost laughed out loud if it weren’t for the icy cold stare he was now giving her.

“You do not have to believe me, Lord Lion,” she said patiently. “I only say it because your son asked and I’d rather not speak falsehood to him.”

“If you are Terran, how did you come to be here?” Asked another Dark Angel, Kai, “I was under the impression that Terran lords did not travel.”

“I’m trying to change that,” said Anivia evenly, “I asked to be stationed on Macragge so I could better oversee the resupply of Indomitus. Before I ended up here, however, I was attending an Inquisitorial High Conclave on the Dearhwatch Fortress Talasa Prime. We were attacked by what I think was a Chaos space hulk. I’m not sure. I’m also not sure if they were in fact targeting me or if they just thought I was easy prey. My guard was going to teleport us away but I ended up here instead.”

“That is very far off course,” observed Borz, “Talasa Prime is hundreds of light years away.”

Anivia shrugged, “I came through a mysterious forest.”

The Dark Angels exchanged glances, clearly recognizing something.

“Suppose that I believe your story,” said the Lion slowly, observing Anivia through his cold eyes, “what do you plan to do now?”

“That is up to you, Lord Lion,” said Anivia evenly. “I would like to return to Macragge, or at least rendezvous with Lord Guilliman’s forces. But as you can see, I am quite incapable of carrying out any such plan without your aid.”

“If my brother truly lives, I will find him,” said the Lion.

Good, Anivia was going to say, but something in the Lion’s eyes stopped her. For some reason, she did not think he appreciated humour or sass.

Anivia kept a respectful distance away from the Lion.

He had assigned one of the Dark Angels, Zabriel, to keep an eye on her under the banner of protection, and he had been following Anivia around.

Anivia was not planning to do anything egregious. She walked around the ship occasionally and met some of the crew whenever she bumped into them. She trusted that everyone here had more experience with voidfaring—voidfaring in Imperial Nihilus, no less—than she did, and she was not interested in disrupting this flow.

This left Zabriel very little to monitor. In fact, Anivia suspected this assignment had resulted in the Lion revealing more information to Anivia than the other way around.

For example, the fact that Zabriel was able to follow Anivia around meant that he was not busy. Astartes were rarely left with free time even while onboard voidships and in between battles. Their schedules tended to be filled with exercises and simulation training, more out of principle than out of necessity. It was generally believed that free time and leisure led to heresy. What this meant was that the Lion did not yet feel full ownership over these sons. Anivia wondered if it was something about the Lion or something about these sons.

These Dark Angels were also unusual in ways more than just the colour of their armour and their number. The most noticeable characteristic is the fact that they did not employ serfs. Some of the human crew had made it their job to attend to these space marines, but it was obviously a choice on the part of the crew rather than an order from the Astartes. In fact, these Dark Angels often enlisted each other’s help to take off and put on armour.

Finally, there was Zabriel himself. It was obvious that the Lion assigned Zabriel to Anivia because he trusted Zabriel the most—not just in terms of his loyalty and but also in terms of his ability. That was a curious judgment. As far as social skills went, Kai was obviously superior. Zabriel was fine. He was comfortable communicating with humans in a way that was unusual for a space marine—yet another curious fact. And he seemed to know every other space marine on this ship better than many of them knew each other. It was almost like Zabriel was the Lion’s envoy in front of these other Dark Angels.

Two dozen Dark Angels. Recently gathered together by Zabriel from what was possibly an exile to serve their returned primarch. Instead of treating this as a penance, their primarch treated them with measured respect.

Interesting.

Chapter Text

The actual purpose of this trip of the Lion’s was to answer a distress call. It came from the planet Mioa. Mioa had emerged from Nocturne Eterna with all of its external defense forces destroyed but most of its internal structures intact. The current planetary governor came to position after the previous one died during Nocturne Eterna and had done a decent job of keeping it all together. Yet he had declined to join the Lion’s protectorate.

Zabriel told Anivia this story with half a pride and half a frustration. The Lion, he explained, was not interested in building another empire, and he was conscious of—and worried about, though of course Zabriel did not use this word—the fact that a lot of what he did could be seen as empire-building. Consequently, whenever he encountered a new Imperial world, he would offer them protection while making it amply clear that they could refuse. He would also explain that, not only would they suffer no retribution for refusal, but they could still call on him for reinforcement. The governor of Mioa was the first to exercise both offers.

It was clear that Zabriel admired the Lion’s honour. It was also clear that he and the other Dark Angels were skeptical of the extent to which such a level-headed approach would work in the crazed Imperium.

Anivia listened with a smile and did not offer any comment. At the end of it, all she asked was whether she could stay in the capital when the space marines did their battle. The answer was, of course, yes. In fact, that was what the Lion had planned anyway.

The battle took 15 days, most of which were spent traveling. It turned out that a small fleet of heretics escaped from the planet to its moon, which housed a small mining colony. The Dark Angels dealt with that as swiftly as they could.

As part of the agreement, the Lion’s forces would recuperate on Mioa for three days. Because the battle was reasonably easily won, the Lion had decided to shorten his stay to half a day, departing as soon as the compensatory ammunition and rations were loaded.

The loading began in the evening and continued through the night. When the Mioa governor informed the Lion that, actually, Mioa not only wished to join the protectorate, but was willing to supply what would amount to a tithe’s worth of weaponry to the Lion on a regular basis, it was well past midnight.

The Lion was dumbfounded.

It took him great effort to retain his impassive demeanor. As soon as the governor left the room to make the arrangements, the Lion called on Zabriel for consultation.

Zabriel was free because Anivia was asleep aboard the Lunar Knight. As soon as he stepped through the door, he said, “my instinct aligns with yours, my lord. I believe this is the Regent’s doing, though I regret to admit that I cannot quite describe how.”

Zabriel had stayed behind when the Lion went to Mioa’s moon, half in protection of Anivia, half to make sure no heretics slipped through the first wave of purge. Consequently, he had witnessed the entirety of what Anivia had been up to in the past 15 days, yet he was not confident that he could give his primarch a satisfying answer.

“But what did she actually do?” Asked the Lion, “did she threaten him? –No, he doesn’t have the eye of a frightened man. In fact, he looks reinvigorated. Is this sorcery?”

“I do not think the Regent is a witch,” said Zabriel. “As to what she actually did—she talked to the governor and people in his court. Not about you or the protectorate, but about the Imperium at large and about life on Mioa. I can recite some of those conversations to you if you’d like, but I doubt it would be illumination. They spent more time discussing culture and philosophy than they did security.”

“Perhaps it’s not her, then,” mused the Lion.

“Judging from the fact that the governor’s first course of action is to inform the Regent rather than you, I do think the responsibility lies with her,” said Zabriel.

“What did she say to him?” Asked the Lion.

“They did not meet,” said Zabriel. “The Regent was already asleep by then and had given the order that she was not to be disturbed. I do suspect that she has anticipated this request, however, as no similar order was given in the previous few nights.”

The Lion nodded. It could be a coincidence. The Regent happened to get along with the governor personally. In any case, it was not a cause for alarm, and that would have to suffice for now.

When the loading finished, it was almost dawn. The Lion did not have a good grasp of how much mortals slept, but he remembered that most of them would be awake by dawn. He voxed Zabriel just to be safe.

“Is the Regent awake?” He asked, “we are ready to depart Mioa. I’d like to check if she still has unfinished business here.”

She was physically aboard the Lunar Knight, but if she had developed a friendship with the governor, perhaps she’d like to say goodbye.

There was an unusual pause before Zabriel answered, “the Regent is still asleep, my lord, but she did ask if you could invite one of the Mioans onboard. One by the name of Klanie Dio. She is the governor’s niece.”

“Why didn’t you say this sooner? I will dispatch an envoy to fetch her.”

“The Regent specifically asked that I only make this request if you ask this question,” said Zabriel hesitantly.

The Lion frowned. Was this a test of some sort? Or was she actually so timid as to not wanting to trouble him with a simple request like this? She did not look to be the timid type, but the Lion equally had no clue as to what this might possibly be a test for.

Klanie Dio was an energetic youth. She turned 19 not so long ago, and had all the markings of a well protected aristocrat. She was curious about everything around her in a way that not only the space marines, but even the mortal soldiers found confusing. It was like she had never been bothered by the weight of responsibility in her life—which was probably true.

Everyone’s immediate thought upon meeting her was: the Regent had gotten herself a pet. Oh well, it wasn’t an expensive one anyway.

Anivia took her on a tour around the upper decks, with Zabriel in tow. The Dark Angel did not understand what there was to see, and in any case it wasn’t like Anivia was familiar with the ship herself. Still, the two women wandered around, chatted with each other and with the crew, and laughed a lot. They did stay out of everyone’s way and did not come close to interfering with the work, so Zabriel let them be. In fact, many of the crew saw an increase in efficiency after the distraction, more than enough to make up for the time wasted in idle chatter.

The Lion observed the Regent from the command bridge

Quite unusually for a primarch, the Lion was not a big multitasker. As he strained his superhuman senses to track the Regent’s movement and conversation across the decks, he barely processed anything from the stream of data passing through the screen of the cogitator in front of him.

“Is this where the ration’s calculation is made?” He heard Klanie ask a bridge crew, “do you get daily consumption rate from the servo skulls I saw around the dining hall?”

“This is where the calculation happens, my lord, but we do not receive data from the monitoring skulls,” replied the woman. “The monitors are there for security reasons. Our ration’s calculation is completed with the estimation given to us by the kitchen.”

“Ooh, the kitchen!” Klanie said with excitement, “can we go to the kitchen, Anivia? I have no idea what a voidship kitchen looks like.”

“It’s in the middle decks,” said Anivia. “You will need to request access.”

To the Lion’s surprised, she did not immediately ask Zabriel, who clearly had the authority to override any mortal access granter. Instead, Klanie mused, “is that a seneschal question? Can we talk to the head enforcer instead? I don’t think we’ve met him yet.”

“No, we have not,” confirmed Anivia.

“Ok,” Klanie sounded even more excited than she was a moment ago, “where might the head enforcer be at an hour like this...”

Chapter Text

Klanie was a great find. When Anivia finally found a way to regroup with the rest of the Imperium, everyone else would be rejoicing at the return of the Lion, and she would still be thinking that the best Imperium Nihilus had offered her was Klanie Dio.

Although Anivia was raised as a planner, she was raised to plan for Loisa, who was in turn raised to have superb social skills. Consequently, Anivia’s plans had always somewhat exceeded her own social tolerance, even after she had been forced to pick up on the skills.

She had dealt with this shortcoming by delegation. Almost all of her immediate subordinates, not only the adjutants but also other support staff, were at least socially competent. But that had been the extent of it. She really did not want to train people on social skills and would much rather modify her plans instead.

Klanie was everything she ever wished for. The moment Anivia heard Klanie being talked about by Mioa’s palace staff, she knew this was something special. Everyone in the palace liked her, yet no one was overly protective so as to constrain her activities. When she talked to you, you couldn’t help but feel the care and understanding in her mannerism and you just wanted to tell her everything. Superb spy material.

Of course, Anivia was not interested in training Klanie to be a spy. It would be too much of a waste of talent.

As impressed as Anivia was, however, she did not lose sight of the bigger picture. She did not, to be perfectly frank, trust the Lion. She had no doubt that he was loyal etc., but loyalty meant very little in this Imperium. She did not know if he was interested in collaborating with mortals the way Guilliman was, or if he was capable of making a collaboration productive. If the answer was negative, she would have to scratch all of her development plan for Nihilus and enter intrigue mode. Klanie would not be able to thrive in that environment, if she could even survive at all.

Consequently, Anivia decided to do it like a test. If the Lion was considerate enough to inquire after what must’ve appeared to him to be idle fancy of hers, and if he was not put off by her setting up a test like this, then he was probably safe to work with, and she would take Klanie onboard.

Klanie’s arrival did not immediately make Anivia’s life easier. In fact, unlike with Nora and Teka, Anivia did not expect Klanie to lessen her day-to-day workload much even after training. Her role was going to be to work in parallel with Anivia, much like Sulachana did, though Anivia was not planning to stream Klanie into leadership like she did Sulachana.

Fortunately, Klanie, also like Sulachana, had both the initiative and the good sense to be self-directing. Once Anivia gave Klanie a basic orientation, she more or less set her loose on the ship, making as many friends as she could. They would still have dinner together everyday for summary and reflection, and that was the extent of the regularly scheduled training. Much to Anivia’s delight, Klanie had an impressively sharp instinct of when she was out of her depth and needed to defer, so the need to schedule more formal training sessions had not arisen.

All of this happened in the open. Anivia did not believe in secrets, but being open with the Dark Angels was unexpectedly more difficult to navigate than being open with the Ultramarines. The Ultramarines were all trained in the basics of administration. Even without any official leadership role, they at least had a basic sense of ownership of the mortal court around them.

In other words, if they didn’t understand something, they asked. That was all Anivia had ever wanted.

The Dark Angels, on the other hand, were watchful. Cautious. It was not a lack of curiosity—not like the Imperial Fists who didn’t ask questions because it didn’t matter to them. The Dark Angels were clearly curious, but they didn’t ask because...they didn’t think she would tell them?

“You know, if there’s anything about me that you want to know, you can just ask.”

Anivia spoke without looking up. She was eating lunch while simultaneously reading a dataslate, a habit she had developed since leaving Terra and no longer needing to uphold noble court table manners.

Zabriel thought about it for a second and complied, “were you responsible for Mioa’s compliance?”

Compliance was an interesting word. It was apt, but not often used nowadays to describe situations such as this. It was an old word that people used in the Great Crusade.

Anivia gave him a glance and smiled, “did you not observe me closely during all of those days?”

Despite her gentle tone, it sounded dangerously close to mockery. Zabriel was not offended exactly, but he did not speak.

Anivia chuckled quietly. She pushed away her unfinished lunch, sat upright with elbows on the table, fingers weaving together to prop up her chin, and she stared at Zabriel right in the eyes.

It was unnerving, to say the least. Zabriel was a space marine. He was old—older than the primarch, even. He had seen many humans, from all walks of life. Some of them could meet his gaze. Some, like Luther, could even command him. Yet none of them had ever looked at him like the Regent did just now.

Zabriel felt a surge of...nervousness, much in the same way he used to feel when the Lion would look at his sons with silent disapproval. The Lion had stopped doing that since his awakening, but it would appear that he did not have a monopoly on this stare.

Fortunately, unlike the past-Lion who would never explain the reason behind his stern look, Anivia was not trying to intimidate him into submission. In fact, her look was not stern at all. If anything, it was a mixture of amusement and delight.

“Do you know why Mioa has refused you the first time round?” She asked.

“Governor Dio claimed it was because of a lack of need, but I believe it was a lack of trust,” said Zabriel. “They do not trust the Lion’s proclamation that he is not here to build an empire. That is understandable. Many of us did not trust him at first either.”

Anivia raised her eyebrows. He was being much more candid with her than she had expected. It might have been trust, though Anivia suspected it was not. More likely, he had sensed the fact that she had formulated a (likely correct) speculation of their identity and so decided it was not worth spending time hiding anymore.

Impressive.

“Yet it was neither,” as a token of good will, Anivia gave a straight response. “You see, nothing comes for free in the Imperium. Sometimes the price was not worth the reward. They did not know what they could possibly offer in exchange for protection from a primarch.”

Zabriel frowned, “but the Lion has already told them—nothing. We want nothing in return.”

“That doesn’t sound very believable, does it?” Anivia smiled patiently, “not to most Imperial citizens. Not in this day and age, anyway.”

Zabriel thought on her words.

“People are scared, Zabriel,” continued Anivia. “It is difficult to think straight when one is scared. All I did was reminding them that their lives were worth living even if they were short, that despite its horrors, the world is a beautiful place, and also, of course, that they have a lot they can offer to the primarch.”

Anivia did not see the Lion before they returned to Avalus, the central world of the Lion’s protectorate. There was something like a reception ceremony staged by the mortals to welcome the Lion’s return. When Anivia saw him on the bridge, he had the exact same expression Guilliman had when he saw a herd of singing priests walking towards him.

Her face twitched very slightly as she held back a snort. Not slightly enough, unfortunately, to escape the Lion’s notice. He shot her a glance which she couldn’t quite tell whether it was disapproval or curiosity.

Avalus was less developed than Mioa, which made it the most undeveloped place Anivia had ever set foot in. When the Great Rift opened, Avalus was placed under marshal law. Most of the non-military nobility had died in the subsequent Nocturn Eterna. Since the Lion’s return, Avalus had served as his base of operation and was reasonably well defended even in his absence. However, the typical civil nobility associated with planetary governors and mortal bureaucracy had been entirely wiped out.

What this meant was that the quality of life on Avalus was worse than even that onboard Macragge’s Honour. At least the flagship of Indomitus had enough chefs to indulge in the Regent’s refined taste.

Anivia hid her discomfort as best as she could. At least they gave her a few servants and tailors who made clothing that was unnecessarily flamboyant and itchy on the skin. Anivia gave them her shirt to study and duplicate. They not only failed the duplication, but also destroyed the only shirt she had with her. It was the closest Anivia had ever gotten to wanting to personally murder someone. Fortunately, Klanie quickly took control of the situation and taught them the essence of Mioa-style clothing. It was not as good as her Terran shirt, but it was at least wearable.

“My lord, how is your stomach feeling?” Klanie asked with some concern. Despite her effort, Anivia did not manage to hide herself entirely from Klanie’s sharp social instinct, and the latter had quickly caught on to the fact that her new lord’s kindness was only a choice. It startled her a little, having grown up with the most powerful person of her planet being a gentle and nervous uncle. Anivia was a force entirely beyond her imagination. Klanie was only beginning to understand the true weight of the choice she was making by accepting the Regent’s invitation.

“Much better, thank you,” replied Anivia politely. The food on Avalus was also not to her liking, and Klanie had managed to track down some officer’s grandmother who was a celebrated chef in a nearby village, who managed to cook food that did not offend the esteemed Terran lord.

The Terran lord, that was how Anivia had introduced herself. She explained that the appointment of her Regency happened after the Great Rift, and the Lion agreed that heralding her as the Imperial Regent ran risk of arousing suspicion.

There was, of course, no such title as ‘the Terran lord’, but most Imperial citizens did not know that.

“I thought you were going to have a psyker check on my mind,” Anivia smiled as the Lion entered the garden.

She might have been wrong about him, Anivia thought. She was reasonably good at reading character, especially when it came to space marines, which possibly extended to primarchs, though of course she had known only one before recently. She had read the Lion as a cold and aloof leader, someone who set high expectations for himself, met it, and then couldn’t understand how other people couldn’t do the same. She didn’t think he had no feeling for others, but feelings counted for very little for people like that. They did what they thought was right, and nothing else mattered to them.

Yet the Lion had surprised her. He had clearly taken an interest in her dealing with Mioa, yet he had not asked for a report or put her up as an emissary. He wanted to talk. More remarkably, he came to find her.

Anivia fully expected to receive a formal summon, but she wanted to give him the opportunity to surprise her. Consequently, she spent a lot of time on ‘neutral grounds’ such as the palace library and the garden. If the Lion had ever entertained the option of seeking her out personally, it would’ve been easier to do this when she was not in ‘her territory’.

And he did exactly that.

“I no longer see the need,” the Lion replied sternly. “You are clearly a seasoned administrator. Even if you are not in fact the Regent, the difference makes no difference in Imperium Nihilus. And you gain nothing by lying to me.”

“As you say, Lord Lion,” Anivia’s smile deepened as she gave a gentle bow. The Lion clearly had not spent anytime in Terra politics if he thought nothing could be gained through a deceit as trivial as this, but she was of course not going to correct him.

The Lion sat down on a stone bench. He was not wearing armour. He was often unarmoured when not on mission—yet another sign of his quiet consideration for the mortals surrounding him.

“Tell me about the Imperium,” he said. He wasn’t issuing a command exactly, but the Lion was one of those people who spoke in the language of commands.

Anivia could not remember the last time someone spoke to her in this tone, but she did not take offense. “What would you like to know?” She asked.

It was not a genuine question. She was going to tell him what she had decided that he needed to know regardless of what he thought he wanted to know, but she wanted to see how he would respond.

“Does my father still live?” Without hesitation, he asked the one question Anivia thought he would ask. Then he said, “tell me about the biggest threats the Imperium faces. Tell me about the Ecclesiarchy.”

All according to prediction. Well, she supposed nobody could be entirely full of surprises.

Anivia gave the answers she was prepared to give. She said a little bit about the Emperor and the Ecclesiarchy—not as much as she would eventually have to tell him when they would discuss the Emperor’s plans, but enough for now. She then told him of the Codex Astartes, the Inquisition, the Grey Knights, the Death Watch, the Sororitas, the Indomitus Crusade, the hub-fortresses, the xenos.

The way Anivia presented information was, in Teka’s words, “ruthlessly efficient”. In fact, it was often too dense and lacking of repetition that most mortal minds had trouble processing past the first 5 minutes. She could slow down, of course, but having to do so annoyed her, and was frequently delegated to Teka. In fact, it was this aspect of Anivia that Guilliman had found the most impressive.

The Lion did not take conscious note, however. He was not used to conversing with mortals to recognize its rarity. As far as he was concerned, this exchange was pleasantly efficient, which was unusual even with some of his own sons. Unconsciously, it made him trust her more.

“Did you have a plan for Imperium Nihilus too?” He asked.

“I have some ideas,” said Anivia. “It was going to have to be talked over with Lord Guilliman, and I didn’t expect to see him again for at least a few more decades. Regardless, all of them will need to be scratched anyway, now that I know you have returned.”

“I do not intend to rule,” said the Lion sternly.

Anivia shrugged, “that can be accommodated.”

The Lion stared at her. He was used to being venerated by everyone he met. Ever since he met the first human—ever since he met Luther for the first time—he was marked out as someone special. He didn’t enjoy it, but he had come to expect it.

The Regent, however, did not treat him as special. He couldn’t tell if this was because she had evidently already had a long and fruitful collaboration with another primarch, but experience told him that this wasn’t enough for most humans to get over their transhuman dread.

The Regent clearly respected him, but it was much in the same way she respected other military commanders. She wanted nothing from him. That was unusual, to say the least.

“If you have ambitions for Imperium Nihilus, you should plan for them now,” he said finally. “You are not going anywhere soon.”

Chapter Text

He was right.

The astropaths—the very few that were still alive—had been broadcasting the Lion’s return for more than a year now and all he managed to gather was a handful of Dark Angels. They had a few ships and enough navigators, but there was no way they could dream of crossing the Great Rift.

Until they could meet up with some major Imperial force, Anivia was stuck here. She might be stuck here even if they did meet up with others. She couldn’t even tell Ultramar she was still alive.

Since ascending to Regency, Anivia had put a lot of thoughts on establishing self sufficiency of the various systems and had tried not to make any branch of Imperial government dependant on her immediate presence. This was, however, primarily for future-proofing. She did not expect to be so absent so quickly. Now she couldn’t help but wonder if any of her reforms were done too rapidly that they might fall apart if left on their own.

The Ecclesiarchy would be fine. Because Anivia wanted as little involvement with them as possible, she had taken extra care in setting up the Ecclesiarchy so that changes would mostly be able to occur on their own.

The Inquisition would have its hands full dealing with the space hulk attack of Talasa Prime. Although they had just ceded control to Anivia, they knew how to operate on their own. The worst that could happen was for some Lord Inquisitors to try to cull back some of their concessions to the Regency. Anivia would cross that bridge when she came to it.

Hopefully there was not more attacks on the rest of Ultramar. Because of his trust in Anivia, Calgar had allowed most of the senior Astartes commanders to engage in frontline battles. Of the four Tetrarchs, Agemman and Balthus had been entirely left alone to deal with the war of the scourging stars. Portan was going to join Calgar at Nachmund in the hopes of alleviating enough pressure for more supply fleets to make it across the Gauntlet. He could be recalled if need be. Felix was still around, buried deep in development and reorganization projects.

What this meant was that the only people in control of Ultramar right now were Felix and Acheran. Both were formidable warriors and capable commanders. Neither was a seasoned administrator. Although their collaborations with Anivia had been reasonably smooth, Anivia fully understood that she was not a typical mortal ruler, and could not help but worry if they could adjust quickly enough. Between Nora, Teka, and Yassilli, she didn’t think the ship would sink, but she still worried.

Finally, of course, there was the Chosen. They must be worried sick. Anivia was half glad it was Valerian who activated the transporter. If it were herself who did it, they would’ve killed Mordelai on the spot—as it was, they still might. She could only imagine how devastated Valerian must have been, yet she nevertheless trusted his ability to handle it above anyone else who was there.

The days on Avalus were considerably longer than those on Terra. According to the chrono, she had been in Imperium Nihilus for over two months.

Generally speaking, Anivia was not an anxious person. But it had been difficult to contain the restlessness that plagued her soul. She had never been this off balance since the incident with her sisters. Except that there was nothing she could’ve done in the wake of her sisters’ death, and so it was easier to force her mind elsewhere. In Imperium Nihilus, however, it felt like she should be able to do something, except she didn’t know what it was. That made her anxious.

She had reorganized the logistics of the Lion’s protectorate so as to establish supply balance and security protocols. She had gone on two expeditions with the Lion where she negotiated the annexation of newly recovered worlds. He had not requested her help, yet she did it almost as a way to keep herself busy.

She was never forceful in those negotiations, respecting the Lion’s intention of offering only protection. But she could feel her patience slipping with every passing day. She could see it in the way the Lion watched her, too. He had not felt the need to intervene yet, but he had come close. He had also resolved to attend her diplomatic engagement as much as possible, even if he hated every second of it, in case she finally snapped.

One more month later, good news came in the disguise of a crisis.

One of the Protectorate’s worlds had called for aid, not on behalf of themselves but on behalf of a nearby system. The world Piscina had retained some astropathic capabilities through Nocturn Eterna, but had fallen silent for a few months.

It could be the start of a chaos cult takeover. It could also be that another disaster had hit them and they lost the last few astropaths. The Lion decided to go and investigate.

Anivia went with them. It was dangerous to get close to the battlefield. But it was more dangerous to be warp-jumps away from the Lion. Besides, Anivia still held the belief that she was as valuable as she was useful, and she felt pretty useless here in Imperium Nihilus.

It wasn’t until they entered Piscina’s orbit that she had the thought that this might’ve been a bad idea.

None of them understood the signs. Most of the human crew had not travelled much away from their own planets before they joined the Lion. The space marines were veterans but not of this century. None of them had faced this particular foe.

Tyranids.

Anivia had never seen a Tyranid either, but she had read reports documenting the devastation they brought to parts of the Imperium long thought secure. There weren’t many reports of this kind. Most planets targeted by Tyranids had no survivors.

She grabbed her dataslate and ran to the war room.

“It’s Tyranids,” she said as she opened the door. The Lion met her eye and gave a nod of permission.

“I assume none of you have fought Tyranids. I have not either. There is a small fleet here, but I am certain that your combined forces will not be able to take them on.”

The Lion frowned. Before he said anything, however, Anivia cited numbers from Ultramar’s recent Tyranid wars.

No primarch fought in the Tyranid war, but even the Lion could not equal a Company’s worth of space marines. Besides, their equipment was old and had very limited ammunition.

“We can’t just leave,” said the Dark Angel Guan, “heat signature suggests there are still survivors on the ground.”

Anivia did not speak. Decisions like these were always difficult. And they were not hers to make.

“We will not fight them directly,” said the Lion. “We evacuate survivors.”

That...was reasonable. It wasn’t like the Lion needed her approval, but Anivia nodded anyway.

“In that case, with your permission, Lord Lion, I would like to take over air support command,” said Anivia. “I am not a soldier, but you will need all of the space marines on the ground.”

The Lion considered it. The Lunar Knight was an orbital defense ship from Avalus, but its crew were not experienced void fighters. They had survived precisely because they were inexperienced—the veterans were sent to the frontline and perished.

More importantly, none of the human crew had any experience coordinating space marine battles. When they were out on missions, logistical coordination was mostly done by the Lion personally—it was faster that way.

He could still leave a son behind to do it, but it would be one fewer Astartes in the ground.

“You can decide later,” said Anivia calmly. She plugged her dataslate into the hologram display and brought up some charts, "in any case, here is some additional information you may need. Please proceed with your counsel.”

There it was. All the information the Lion was just about to request before the Regent’s interruption, presented in the order of relevance.

Chapter Text

Coordinating battle logistics was not as difficult as Anivia was worried about, though this might be entirely because she was coordinating for the Lion. He was not as used to speaking in administrative logic as Guilliman, but he had an almost divination-like control of the battlefield. He could tell which battle front was losing before the fighters themselves could, just by looking at the movement of units. This gave Anivia plenty of time to collate updated intel for further planning.

They did exactly what the Lion dictated—they searched for and extracted survivors. One Arvus Lighter cargo shuttle and two Valkyries flew back and forth nonstop, filling the cargo hold of the Lunar Knight with refugees.

Many of the refugees were injured. Most were traumatized and malnourished. But they were also disciplined. Each pod of refugees was a tightly knit social structure comprised of guards, medicae, caretakers, and occasionally a few children. They had survived when others did not because of their devotion to each other.

Klanie took on the role of settling refugees. This included tending to their needs, rationing food and medical supply, enlisting capable bodies to help with other tasks, and maintaining order. This was the first major leadership role she had undertaken. Anivia sent all of the capable crew members there to help her.

“Lord Syrren, we received a signal from another Imperial ship,” a voice shouted over the vox. “No visual yet, but they identify themselves as the Absolution’s Ire.”

It was hour 16 and Anivia was on her 6^th recaf. The Lunar Knight had enough crew to rotate between day watch and night watch, but no one could replace Anivia’s role—certainly not after everyone who was even remotely combat experienced was sent to fly the Valkyries or to help Klanie in the haul.

Consequently, no one was here to supplement Anivia’s lack of knowledge about Imperium Nihilus. The name Absolution’s Ire meant nothing to her.

“Gave them our call sign,” commanded Anivia. “Explain that we are on a rescue mission and we are commanded by the primarch Lion El’Johnson. Do not disclose our true strength.”

She had to assume they were friendly—she had to hope they were friendly. Not only was there no space marine onboard the Lunar Knight at present, there were very few human combatants too, and all of them were injured.

She switched to the ground voxline, “Lord Lion, it looks like there are other Imperial forces on the ground beside us. Their battleship identifies as Absolution’s Ire. Have you encountered them yet? Are they Imperial Guards or Astartes?”

After a few seconds, the Lion’s voice came back against the background of gunfire and inhuman shrieking, “we have auspex reading of Imperial weaponry. No visual yet. We are moving to meet them. Have you informed them of my presence?”

“Yes, but I did not mention your sons,” said Anivia. “Would you like me to?”

A pause. “Not yet,” replied the Lion.

Anivia would be amused by his response if she wasn’t so tired. “I did not deny the presence of Astartes, and I imagine they will expect them by your side,” she said. “Also, I did not tell them this but we do not have aerial support capabilities.”

“Understood,” said the Lion.

Anivia turned the vox volume up and took a nap. It was less like a nap, more like she just passed out for a few minutes, but in cases such as these, a few minutes could be surprisingly refreshing.

Anivia had chosen this time to rest because she expected there to be some down time as the Lion met and parlayed with the forces of the Absolution’s Ire. However, she did not expect to receive a full hour of respite. When she awoke on her own, she briefly panicked that she had screwed up somehow.

“Updates!” She shouted into the vox.

“Not much, my lord,” the vox officer sounded a bit startled, “Lord Lion has successfully rendezvoused with the other Imperial forces and they are engaging in a counter attack. Lord Lion has not requested aid from us.”

Huh. Did that mean that the Absolution’s Ire was much better supplied than the Lunar Knight? Anivia massaged her temples to try to restart her brain.

She pulled out the basic information exchange the Absolution’s Ire had sent over during the initial contact with the intention of cross-comparing it with the Lunar Knight’s own report, when the vox officer said with a slightly surprised tone, “my lord, there is a communication request to you, coming from someone identifying as Chapter Master Dante of the Blood Angels.”

Chapter Master? Blood Angels? “Patch him through,” commanded Anivia immediately.

Anivia could tell that the vox link was connected by the background gunshots and the distant explosion sounds, but Dante did not speak. That made sense. He probably heard of her identity from the Lion and was understandably skeptical.

“Chapter Master Dante?” Anivia spoke first, “this is Anivia Lux Syrren, Imperial Regent. I am glad to encounter you here. I am in temporary command of orbital coordination for Lord Lion’s forces. Do you have questions for me?”

“Lord Regent,” he was still somewhat hesitant, “I was under the impression that you were stationed in Ultramar.”

Anivia’s heart raced, “I was stationed on Macragge, yes, until an accident brought me here. I can give you a full report on the event later. But please tell me first, Chapter Master, have you been in contact with Lord Commander Guilliman already?”

“Yes,” Dante’s voice was less reserved now, “in fact, one of his heralds is with us on the ground at the moment—an Adeptus Custodes Tribune by the name of Maldovar Colquan.”

“Colquan!” Anivia exclaimed, not managing to stop herself.

“His vox is broken and he is some distance away from me,” said Dante, “but I imagine he will want to meet with you personally.”

“I am making planet fall,” said Anivia determinately, “please inform him if you can. I will coordinate with Lord Lion on matters of security.”

It was not for another two hours that the Lion deemed it safe for Anivia to make planet fall.

They had lost one of the Valkyries in an earlier attack and the Lion sent Zabriel in the other Valkyrie to take Anivia. They had thinned the Tyranids considerably but not completely.

The Valkyrie skillfully landed in the small piece of land that Kai had just cleared the corpses from. Operating on one hour of sleep, Anivia was practically delirious. Nevertheless, she saw him immediately upon exiting the ship.

Before she knew what she was doing, she was running. Then she tripped on a piece of broken armour.

Colquan tried his best to catch her. He was covered in blood—both the enemies’ and his own. There was a visible dent in one side of his shoulder plate, and his chest plate was full of scratch marks. One of his arms was not very functional.

Anivia managed to not fall onto her face. She could see nothing else except him and for some reason that gave her strength. She stumbled across the battlefield. Colquan knelt down in preparation to brace her fall. But Anivia did not fall. Instead, she embraced him.

Chapter Text

Colquan had never been embraced before.

Between his auramite armour, her environmental suit, and the pain he had come to ignore for the past ten hours, he could not really feel anything. Yet it had a strange effect on him. A series of recent events flashed before his eyes—an occurrence he thought only happened to men who were about to die.

Of all the Custodes currently in Imperial Nihilus, Colquan was perhaps the only one who did not choose to be here.

He had been present at Guilliman’s Indomitus Crusade since the beginning. It was for two reasons: by Valoris’s orders and because Colquan distrusted the primarch. Every other Custodian had specifically petitioned to join. By Custodian standards, a petition like that was bordering on rebellious, because the dissolution was never officially passed.

Valoris had granted every petition. He even covertly encouraged quite a few. He had always been a revisionary leader. A radical, by Custodian standards. In any other faction, this dynamic would’ve led to discontent and perhaps disobedience. But they were the Adeptus Custodes. The Captain-General led mostly by example. Whenever he did issue orders, he did so without elaboration, and they followed him without question.

It wasn’t like Colquan didn’t want to be in the Indomitus Crusade, but if he wasn’t a Tribune, he wouldn’t have been here. He wouldn’t have petitioned. He didn’t trust the Astartes—never had. Now that their primarch had returned, he didn’t trust him either. This opinion had somewhat faded in the 16 years he had spent by Guilliman’s side, but that only served to make his presence feel less necessary.

Then, of course, everything changed.

In the war room upon Macragge’s Honour, Valoris told the Custodes that the Regent’s orders would now take precedence above all. It wasn’t clear whether the Regent got this message, however, for she issued preciously few orders to the Custodes while she directed the entire Ultramar around like a circus. But it was not within the nature of a Custodian to ask, so they waited in silence.

Colquan also waited in silence. He was more vocal than his brethren, but not so much that he’d ever consider himself owed an explanation from his lord.

The order never came. The closest thing Colquan got from her was a dismissal and a suggestion that he return to the duties Valoris had assigned him—duties which Colquan had thought were voided by then.

Colquan did the only thing he could. He obeyed.

Even as they flew away from the Regent and into darkness, there had been much discussions amongst the Custodians aboard Macragge’s Honour about her. Because Colquan was the only one who had had any real interaction with her on this side of the Rift, he was frequently pulled into these discussions. Unfortunately, his ill temper was not as effective at securing solitude when it came to others of his own kind as it was with mortals or even Astartes.

It was obvious from the very beginning that the Regent was nothing like anything they had ever dealt with, but Colquan would’ve hoped that several months of interaction would’ve brought him a little closer towards understanding her. That did not seem to be the case. In fact, he soon discovered that, even amongst the Custodians, his ability to decipher his lord might’ve been uniquely abysmal. As an exercise, Colquan would describe an exchange with the Regent, and the Custodians would study her records closely and formulate a prediction. Then, Colquan would tell them what actually happened, and they would discuss the possible sources of their errors. Several Custodians—curiously, all of them unranked—were able to achieve something like a greater-than-chance accuracy in predicting her actions. Colquan never told them this, but his own expectations during those events had always been miles off.

Unfortunately, none of them was able to give satisfactory explanations of their successful guesses. The best they could come up with were hypotheses like “she did not want to upset us” or “she wanted to know what we think”. Even they themselves considered these hypotheses ridiculously non-sensical.

And so Anivia remained an enigma to Colquan.

That was not itself a problem. Colquan, like all the other Custodes, was never in the habit of needing to understand his commanders. All he needed to do was to understand the commands sufficiently to follow them, which was easy enough to accomplish for she issued preciously few commands. And yet...

Perhaps it was the result of being asked over and over again to recount every precious second he had spent with the Regent, he could not get her out of his mind. Every meditation, every idle moment was spent reliving those memories, and he grew even more irritated over time. Why was this war not over yet? He should not be here.

But where should he be instead?

If it wasn’t for this restlessness, he would’ve never for a microsecond entertained any suggestion from xenos. Yet when that Aeldari farseer suggested that he travel with the Blood Angels, he found himself unable to form his usual scorn.

“Go with the angels of blood and you will find what you seek,” said the farseer, in that annoyingly melodic tone.

“I seek only victory in this war,” said Colquan sternly.

The farseer gave an expression that could only be described as an eye-roll, “I do not know what it is that you seek, nor am I interested. I merely tell you that you will find it if you travel with the angels of blood. And I merely pray that you choose to heed my advice and leave me with some peace.”

Colquan stared at him, “I have not gone near you.”

“Your anxiety disturbs the warp,” said the farseer distractedly. “If it wasn’t for the fact that your soul has been especially fortified to resist the warp’s draw, you would’ve summoned daemons here by now.”

As Colquan gave the customary show of aggression for the xeno’s transgression, he couldn’t help but feel that the xeno might have been right.

And now, as the Regent’s arms stretched across his shoulders with something between an imperceptible touch and an inescapable shackle, he finally came to see the extent of the truth in the farseer’s words.

It was like a mountain’s worth of weight had been lifted from him. He felt so light that he worried he might float. It was like a balloon filled him from the inside. His restlessness did not go away—indeed, he was more restless than he had ever been. He barely knew what to do with himself, and eventually decided to focus on his pain to try to get a distraction.

The Regent was not in a good shape. The areas around her eyes were grey and her cheeks had caved inward from either stress or malnutrition. Her lips were dry and colourless. But she was smiling.

“It’s good to see you, Tribune,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Colquan did not know what to say. He did not know what to do. He only knelt there, trying not to float away.

“You are injured,” Anivia finally noticed his dented shoulder plate and withdrew her arm.

“It’s nothing,” he grunted. He was annoyed that she had noticed, though he couldn’t explain why.

“Chapter Master Dante, Lord Lion,” Anivia somewhat regained her calm and looked up at the two approaching figures. She blushed a little and stood up straighter, “please excuse me. I’m forgetting myself. I thank you for arranging my meeting with the Tribune. It is such a relief to see him.”

“It’s my honour, Lord Regent,” said Dante. “It also serves as a verification of your identity. Can you give me a status update?”

Anivia nodded, “I see that you have crossed the Rubicon and so I assume you are fully up-to-date on Lord Guilliman’s plans. About 3 subjective months ago, I attended an Inquisitorial Conclave at Talasa Prime. When we were just about finished, a space hulk appeared out of nowhere and attacked us. The Custodian Shield-Captain Valerian was with me and the Grey Knight Grand Master Caddon Varn gave us a teleporter to evacuate. Valerian was the one who activated the device, but I was separated from him and teleported into a forest of some sort. There, I met with something that I believe to be a shard of the Emperor’s soul. Then, something pursued me inside the forest but I did not know what it was. Soon after, I was onboard Lord Lion’s ship.”

The Lion’s eyes narrowed—Anivia had never mentioned the Emperor’s shard to him before.

Yet Anivia did not spare him a glance. She continued calmly, “Lord Lion will be able to give you a better account of his activities. All I will say is that, other than the few scattered loyal sons he has been able to gather—all of whom are on this planet at present—you are the first major Imperial forces we've been able to make contact with.”

“Understood,” said Dante. He had removed his helmet as a sign of respect, but he had evidently had much more practice controlling his facial expressions than the average Astartes. Anivia couldn’t tell how much of what she said was news to him.

“Lord Lion and I wish to convene with Lord Guilliman if at all possible,” said Anivia. “But we will need to escort the refugees to the planet Avalus first. Do you know of Lord Guilliman’s status? Do you know if he received any of the resupplies I’ve sent over? They departed not long before I went to Talasa Prime.”

“We parted with him two months ago,” said Dante. “He received some information about a possible resupply and was heading towards Vigilus to secure it. If you wish to join them, I can supply you with an Inceptor squad and a battleship.”

Anivia looked up at the Lion, half expecting him to order their immediate departure. His expression suggested that he really wanted to, but he restrained himself.

“I cannot just leave Avalus,” he said. “I promised its people protection. It will not be able to stand in my absence.”

Anivia thought about it for a moment and suggested, “how about this: I will take the Blood Angels squad and Tribune Colquan and stay on Avalus while you take a few of your sons to reinforce Lord Guilliman. The two of you can secure Vigilus much more readily and I might have a chance of returning to Imperium Sanctus.”

“Do you not plan on rendezvous with Lord Guilliman, Regent?” Dante asked with a hint of surprise.

“I will let him do the planning,” said Anivia tiredly. “I of course wish to see him, but he will be able to determine whether I need to see him.”

The Lion nodded. “Would you like me to carry any message to my brother?” He asked Anivia.

“That would be wonderful,” Anivia smiled.

Chapter Text

The Lion briefly returned to the Lunar Knight to announce his plan. Anivia used that time to compile a data package for Guilliman.

Operating on one hour of sleep, Anivia couldn’t remember what she wrote in her letter to Guilliman. It was probably very rambly, but she triple-checked to ensure she had included all the important information, and he would just have to deal with the rest of the incoherence.

Then, she gave the ship some basic orders and went to bed.

Anivia slept for an uninterrupted 14 hours. When she awoke, she had to sit there for a moment to recount what actually happened in the past 48 hours.

She signaled for servants to set up breakfast in her room and called Klanie on vox.

“My lord! How are you doing?” Klanie sounded as energetic as ever. That was a relief.

“I’m well. I take it we are in transit already? Are the Blood Angels onboard?”

“Yes, yes. Lord Lion ordered that we start our journey before you finish your rest,” said Klanie. “Sergeant Sevreal of the Blood Angels is taking charge of this ship.”

“How are you and the crew getting along with his team?” Anivia asked. Her tone was casual like she was simply making small talk, but she knew Klanie would understand her true meaning.

“We have not had much opportunity to interact,” replied Klanie, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Lord Kai has taken up the responsibility of liaising with them.”

Kai? Anivia raised her eyebrows in surprise, “did Lord Lion take Zabriel with him?”

“He did,” said Klanie, “along with lords Aphkar, Guain, and Rufarel.”

Anivia had long observed that the Lion’s Dark Angels came in small comrade-groups of various sizes. The three additions to Zabriel were from three such groups. If Anivia’s hypothesis about these Dark Angels was correct, then she understood the Lion’s choices. She would’ve chosen the same if she were in his position.

Kai was also a good choice as a liaison. He was the most socially savvy of the Dark Angels and had gotten along with Klanie. Still, she was somewhat surprised that the Lion did not leave Zabriel behind. That was a lot of trust on his part, though she did not know whether the trust was of her, of the Blood Angels, or of the Custodian Tribune.

“Good,” said Anivia as the servants finished setting up food and were leaving her room, “send me as many reports as anyone thinks I should read. Inform others that I’m available this afternoon if anyone wants to meet.”

“I want to meet with you, my lord,” said Klanie.

“Then you will be the first in line,” Anivia smiled, “after lunch, perhaps? We can visit the refugees.”

“Wonderful!” Klanie’s excitement was as delightful as ever, “I’ll see you late then, my lord.”

Anivia sat down to eat breakfast. The notification light on her dataslate began to blink intermittently as various reports began to arrive. She stretched her arms to mentally prepare herself.

Before she took the first mouthful, however, she suddenly noticed something.

A giant figure stood against the wall. He was so perfectly still, perfectly quiet, that he blended in with the bookshelf seamlessly. Yet he did not try to hide himself. Even Anivia was momentarily stunned by how long it took her to notice him.

“Um, Tribune? How long have you been here?” She asked.

He looked at her with a somewhat dazed expression. “11 hours and 46 minutes,” he said.

Anivia stared at him. He stared back. He did not seem to realize how absurd that answer was.

Anivia put down her food and walked towards him. “Are you...alright?” She asked hesitantly.

His wounds had long ceased bleeding, but the fact that he was wearing a robe instead of his power armour made Anivia suspect that the wounds had not fully healed. His face was not obviously flustered, but his eyes were hazy.

Anivia tugged at his sleeve but he only looked at her expressionlessly. She sighed, “sit down for me. You are too tall.”

Colquan sat down on the floor cross-leggedly. His head was only slightly lower than hers when she was standing. She raised her hand to touch his forehead.

He was…warm. Anivia realized she didn’t know what the standard temperature of a Custodes was, but it couldn’t have been lower than baseline human. It didn’t feel like a fever even by baseline standards.

Colquan momentarily closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and leaned slightly forward into her hand.

“…Are you alright?” She asked again. She scanned his shoulders but saw no sign of bleeding.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice so low it was crackling.

Without quite knowing what to do she lowered her hand to touch his cheek. He leaned into it some more and sighed softly.

He did not look alright at all, but he did not look sick either. Anivia tried to step backward to get a better look at him.

And that was when she realized what was happening.

Before her fingers left his skin, he reflectively caught her hand. It looked like he didn’t know what to do with it though, so he merely awkwardly held it in midair.

But Anivia was not paying any attention to her hand. She was looking at…his crotch.

It bulged out significantly and was slightly damp. Even through the layers of fabric, she could see that he was hard.

She instinctively checked that the door was closed, then her gaze returned to his face. She could see now how much his pupils dilated. His breath trembled. He met her gaze with neither embarrassment nor expectation.

“Do you…know what it is that you want?” She asked.

“I want you, my lord,” he said with a slight frown.

“Do you know what that means?”

He did not respond. It was clear that he did not.

Anivia considered her options.

She could send him away. Or she could give him what he clearly wanted. Anivia had come to understand that no Custodian was ever going to ask for anything for their own benefit, and it seemed that Colquan, despite his unusual bluntness and short temper, was no exception.

Still, she did not know it was possible to be this clueless. Not even Valoris was this clueless. Colquan was clearly aroused to the point he couldn’t think straight. He was probably like this for quite a few hours when she was asleep and the desire had burned away every ounce of his mind without him realizing what it even was.

“Has this happened to you before?” Anivia asked. She was genuinely curious.

Colquan nodded. He was still holding her hand, and had finally decided to place it back on his cheek.

“What do you do when it happens?” Asked Anivia.

“I—think about you, my lord,” Colquan still had a light frown as he concentrated on understanding her words.

“And then what?”

Colquan’s frown deepened, “nothing. I think about you, my lord. Nothing else.”

He never failed to astound Anivia. Not even in circumstances like this.

Anivia leaned forward and placed one knee gently but firmly on his crotch. Colquan inhaled deeply and tilted his head back, letting out a audible sigh.

He was never one to hold back his thoughts in ordinary conversations. It seemed that he was also not one to hold back vocalizations in situations like this. Given how hard it was to get Valoris to make any noise, this was quite unexpected.

She could feel the tensing of his muscles and she had half a mind to wonder if it might aggravate his wounds, but he didn’t seem to care. She planted a kiss on the bottom of his neck.

Coquan took another deep, trembling breath. His skin had turned pink. A remarkably human response.

Anivia shifted her knee and he groaned with every bit of pressure. His eyes were half closed. Little moans trickled out of his throat. He looked incredibly needy just now. He looked…beautiful.

Anivia took a deep breath herself. There was something about Colquan’s particular mixture of superhuman irritability and childlike naivety that was intoxicating to her. He could do so much—he could kill her with the snap of a finger. Yet when she leaned into him, he didn’t even know what to do with himself.

“Is this what you want?” Anivia asked softly as she kneaded his crotch with her knee.

“I…my lord.” It wasn’t clear if he was listening. He tilted his head back until it hit the wall. His mouth was half open and he was panting.

This was the most honest reaction Anivia had ever seen. His naivety manifested not only in his inability to articulate a request, but also in his obliviousness for hiding himself. It was mesmerizing to watch.

Anivia put his hands on her back in a gesture that resembled an embrace and he instinctively pulled her towards him. He was not quite in a position to be mindful of his own strength with the pull and she lost her balance. Her hand landed on his bulge, pressing downward with the weight of her body. Colquan let out a trembling groan and came, his hip thrusting toward her as much as his sitting position allowed.

For a long moment afterward, he sat there, utterly dazed. Then he somewhat recovered and looked down at Anivia.

“Was that what you wanted?” She asked again.

Colquan hesitated. The honest answer was yes, but for some reason he didn’t know if that was what he should say.

Anivia considered him. She knew she was not good at picking up on the signs—she had come from a place where everyone had to fight tooth and nail for what they wanted. And the idea of holding one’s desire inside even when it was presented to them was simply absurd. She could see now that he had clearly been holding his in for such a long time, letting it fester in his ignorance, until it had hollowed him out entirely.

But what was it? What was the thing she had missed about him?

“Did you…not want to stay with Lord Guilliman’s forces?” She asked in a tentative tone, carefully observing his expression.

“I will do whatever you wish that I do, my lord,” Colquan said almost reflexively.

“And I wish to know the answer to that question,” Anivia insisted. “I realized just now that I never asked if you wanted to stay with the Crusade.”

“I…” his expression was back to a slight frown as he tried to grapple with the idea of having preferences. After a while, he said, “I wish to stay with you.”

Anivia smiled. She held onto his robe for balance and leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Colquan instinctively closed his eyes, though he didn’t know to kiss back.

“If you wish to stay with me, you will need to learn to make requests,” she told him. Colquan nodded without quite knowing what he was agreeing to.

“Now, go clean up,” Anivia said as she pulled away, “I still have work to do.”

Chapter Text

Anivia got to work on Avalus with reinvigorated liveliness. Simply knowing that they were in contact with Guilliman filled her with such hope and energy that she almost operated on an Astartes’ schedule.

Even Klanie struggled to keep up. Until now, she had been half a diplomat and half a personal servant to Anivia. Anivia had completely relieved her of the latter role now. She had sent her out on numerous tasks that were completely foreign to Klanie, without even the most basic debriefing. The Dark Angels helped Klanie wherever they could, but they were also assigned a whole host of various tasks they had never undertaken before, ranging from designing bastions to calculating supply chains to holding planning meetings. If any of them had ever doubted Anivia’s claim that she was a Terran Lord, they were not doubting now. She clearly had a very good grasp of the potential of Astartes. And she clearly had much experience working with the sons of Dorn and Guilliman.

They managed. Barely. The Regent’s calculations were so precise that everyone around her was stretched to their breaking point but no further. At least no one was having nightmares about the Great Rift hanging over their heads anymore. No one ever had time to look above their heads.

The only people of any importance who did not receive direct orders from Anivia were the Blood Angels. In fact, Anivia had not even officially met them. But that did not make their task easier. She had redirected every military officer away for other tasks, relying entirely on one squad of Blood Angels for the security of the entirety of the Lion’s protectorate. Well, one squad of marines plus a Custodian.

As the proud base of operation for a primarch, Avalus had very little security risk. The same couldn’t be said about other planets of the protectorate. Cultist activities and pirate incursions occurred regularly. The Blood Angels Inceptor squad was thus further broken down into patrol teams and forced to lead human troopers. At least the Regent didn’t send all line soldiers into manufactorums.

The Blood Angels quickly learned that they needed to carefully ration the humans. Not only their lives, but also their morale. Of all the Astartes Chapters, the Blood Angels treated mortals reasonably well—they tried not to waste their lives unnecessarily. They also tried not to interact with mortals, including mortal soldiers. All Astartes were like this. Sons of Sanguinius especially so.

They did not have that luxury now. No matter how arrogant they might’ve been about their combat prowess, they at least needed the humans to man the space ship and process battle intel.

The Custodian refused to leave Avalus, which was fair enough. The Regent put him in charge of coordinating with the Blood Angels on matters of security. He took it with such a seriousness even the Blood Angels struggled to meet his gaze. How the Regent was able to retain any ounce of concentration underneath his constant intense, unwavering stare was beyond everybody. Klanie shivered whenever she caught sight of him, which was almost every time she had to report to Anivia. She developed the strange ability to speak coherently through her shivers.

It was all a blur.

Anivia’s thoughts raced so fast that even herself had trouble catching them sometimes. Some time ago, Calgar had given her a collection of worlds for experimentation and Anivia had tried to test out her ideas on decentralized governance on these worlds. Not enough time had passed for any of them to bear results, unfortunately, but the time spent setting them up had at least given Anivia glimpses of the most obvious problems. She would have to go into it more or less blind. If she was lucky, Guilliman could run mental simulations for her. Anivia must confess she still didn’t have a comprehensive grasp of the limitations of his abilities.

Time stopped having any meaning as Anivia worked her life away. She tried her best to take care of herself—she had never really been good at that, but she could not spare Klanie for this task. In fact, everyone with the sensibility to be able to take care of her was given more important things to do.

That left Colquan, who could clearly see the stress her mind had placed on her body, but had no idea how to address it.

This made him angry. But he couldn’t afford to express his anger lest it distracted Anivia.

That made him angrier still.

At least Anivia did not fill his schedule to the second like she did everyone else. He could usually spare an hour or two at night time to watch her sleep. It was about the only thread of sanity him had now.

Here was something Anivia did not know the answer to. The Emperor had told her he had turned her into a perpetual. Apparently it didn’t mean that she wouldn’t die, for Malcador was a perpetual and he had died. It just meant that she could come back from most things. She could certainly come back from being gnawed into pieces by daemons or a ritual dagger to the heart. She knew that much. What she didn’t know was whether she would die from exhaustion and how soon she could come back from that.

The Emperor had warned her against abusing this power. It might take time to come back from death, he explained. It could take a long time for some people, long enough to be inconvenient.

Anivia was abusing it anyway. She had collapsed mid-sentence in a meeting—a sentence she had finished in between bouts of delirium on the medicae bed. Colquan looked positively murderous, but Anivia knew he would do the necessary communications as she commanded. Colquan was always angry anyway. By now, Anivia found it nothing more than amusing.

But this time, it was more than Colquan’s anger she had to contend with.

Anivia stared at him with a completely blank expression.

She tried to move her limbs to make sure she wasn’t dreaming, but then she remembered that she could move in dreams. The needle in her arm stung slightly with the movement, but she had experienced pain in her dreams too. She couldn’t prove this wasn’t a dream. And she didn’t dare to hope for more.

He stood up from the chair in the corner of the room and walked over. He looked down at her.

Maybe she should say something. Whether or not this was a dream, it never hurt to say something.

Anivia opened her mouth but no sound came out. She didn’t know what to say.

She felt light-headed all of a sudden. She hadn’t been very good about eating on time, but she thought the needle in her arm was supposed to address the negative consequences. Maybe this was a dream after all.

Valoris knelt down beside her bed, extended his arms, and pulled her into a gentle embrace.

He smelt of dust, of machine oil, of sweat, of gun powder, of blood.

Every muscle in his body tensed, but the embrace was not too tight. He had precisely calibrated his own strength to fit her shape.

Anivia hugged back with every drop of force she had, which added up to very little overall force.

His warm breath travelled down the back of her neck. It was only slightly trembling.

Anivia shifted her head to nuzzle deeper into his shoulder. He did not smell pleasant, but she took a deep breath anyway.

“You are not as angry as I thought you would be,” she commented eventually.

As usual, he did not respond because it wasn’t a question.

She closed her eyes and smiled. She did not remember having been this relaxed in a long time.

“Can I sleep some more?” She asked with her eyes closed.

He still did not respond, but he helped her lay back into the medicae bed.

“Tell them to make me something nice to eat,” she murmured. She was asleep before hearing his reply.

He had changed.

It was as clear as day. The way he came over to hug her. The way he tamed his own anger. The way he looked at her. He still thought and acted with the usual superhuman detachment, which was still completely foreign to Anivia, but he seemed to finally understand what she meant when she said that it was okay for them to be different. If Anivia had to describe it, she would say that he had come to peace with the idea that she would never be completely within his grasp and that this didn’t mean he wasn’t good enough. He seemed to finally understand that she didn’t need him to be more than he already was.

Anivia didn’t try to find out whether this change was because of his journey back to Terra, his conversations with the rest of the Adeptus Custodes, or his discovery of her disappearance and the resulting adventure through the Rift. Valoris was, in many ways, the only person Anivia had taken from more than she had given back. She had also come to peace with it now—her ledger would never be balanced with him. And she would just have to settle with the aspiration of treating him better.

As soon as Anivia was in a position to use her mind again, Valoris gave his report. Colquan was fine, Valoris explained. He seemed to think he deserved punishment, but Valoris saw no need.

“Any good commander from the group you brought across the Rift?” Anivia asked, “Colquan wants to stay with me.”

“He wants to stay with you?” Valoris repeated with a degree of incredulity that made Anivia chuckle.

“His own words, I swear,” she said playfully.

Valoris considered this for a moment and decided that he had nothing to say, so he simply changed the subject and continued his report.

Guilliman agreed with the plan sketch Anivia had sent in her letter, Valoris explained. Between the two primarchs they could take back Vigilus in a few months and establish a hub-fortress on the planet, which hopefully would be able to diminish the risk associated with Rift-crossing enough that he felt comfortable sending Anivia back to Imperium Sanctus.

Valoris brought two dozen Custodians with him, divided into three Shield Hosts. It was only a moderate overkill. He really did mature as a leader.

As genetically modified demigods, Custodes had superhuman cognitive abilities just like the Astartes did. They could perform immense amount of mental calculations in an instant, remember pretty much everything they had ever witnessed, and process incomprehensible amounts of data. However, the challenge with leading the civil court, as opposed to commanding the battlefield, had rarely been the speed with which a calculation could be performed. It had always been about which calculations ought to be performed, which variables ought to be considered, and which plan ought to be executed. By their nature, the Custodes were much worse at making judgments like these than the Astartes.

Anivia remembered the promise she had made to Tyvar and tried her best to respect the Custodes for what they were instead of trying to change them. She put her them into all of the positions that didn’t require substantive decision-making and recalled as many Astartes as she could. She even invited the Blood Angels to join.

Then, she took a page from Guilliman’s book and held a meeting.

Chapter Text

“I am departing from Avalus in a month and I do not plan to return.” The Regent opened with this statement.

Two Custodians stood behind her. They bore expressions of either stoicism or boredom. Klanie Dio sat next to her. She was understandably nervous but she was not expected to speak.

20 Astartes stood around the room—there were not enough Astartes-sized furniture for all of them to sit, so they decided to all stand. 14 of them were Dark Angels, the other 6 Blood Angels.

There were also a miscellaneous collection of human officers—some seasoned military commanders, others freshly promoted diplomats. All of them had worked closely with the Astartes in the past few months under the Regent’s orders. Some decided to stand like their transhuman allies. Others were sitting and taking notes.

There was not a lot of murmuring. Many of them had expected this to happen sooner or later. Most were still in the state of fanatical efficiency that had dominated their lives for months.

“With the support of Lord Commander Guilliman, I am reestablishing an Imperium that would see greater integration between baseline humans and Adeptus Astartes both on the battlefields and in civil courts.” The Regent continued, “I know that most Astartes hate politics. Unfortunately we all have to do things we hate sometimes. And it is certainly a skill you are all well equipped to master, as is evident in the past few months.”

The Dark Angels felt a strange sense of pride, something they had never imagined they would feel from hearing a baseline human complimenting their administrative abilities.

“Like Macragge of Ultramar, Avalus will become an exemplar of Imperium Nihilus. In the past few months, I have laid down the basic structures of this new, decentralized way of governance. Once I meet up with Lord Guilliman and Lord Lion, we will device a more complete plan. I do not yet know what their plans will be, but I imagine at least one of the primarchs will always be in Imperium Nihilus. I expect that both will stay for the foreseeable future to deal with the aftermath of the Rift. They will help stabilizing this structure in my absence.”

That was such a strange expression—the primarchs would do this in the Regent’s absence, as if she was the true person in charge and they were mere proxies. Anivia did not seem to notice the strangeness, however. She continued, addressing the Blood Angels now, “in the long term I want more Astartes to take on leadership roles in addition to the primarchs. I hear that Lord Guilliman has named Chapter Master Dante as the Lord Protector of Imperium Nihilus, so I want you to give him a full report when you return to him—with more detail than you were intending to previously. I will prepare a package for you. Please also let him know that this should not be his lone burden to bear. I will advice Lord Lion to make contact with other Chapters operating in Imperium Nihilus with sufficient strength so they could convert other planets into hub-fortresses like Avalus. Please invite Lord Dante to do the same.”

The Blood Angels bowed their heads.

“Now, let us go over the basic plan.”

The basic plan was decentralization.

Curiously, as much as unity was the central Imperial propaganda, the most successful organizations in the Imperium were decentralized. The Adeptus Astartes, for one, was divided into Chapters. Guilliman had done it intentionally to avoid over-concentration of power. It certainly did that. There were drawbacks too, of course, but Anivia thought the way Guilliman had been handling it with the Indomitus Crusade worked well enough. Importantly, Chapters still could, and many did, refuse to join Guilliman’s forces. Anivia thought that this was a good thing.

The Inquisition was also decentralized. Although Anivia had began to impose the Regent’s authority over them, she was not planning to do anything more than what Guilliman did to the Astartes.

Finally, the Ecclesiarchy was, strangely enough, also essentially decentralized. Sure, nominally there was an Ecclesiarch who exerted disproportional control over the creed and the crusades, but the Ecclesiarch did not own the faith. Each Order of the Sororitas still had remarkable control over their own courses of actions.

Anivia had spent the past two years closely studying the internal workings of the Ecclesiarchy and the Inquisition. Although her intention was to change them, she ended up learning a lot from them. There was a reason that these two were the most successful bureaucratic institutions in the 10 thousand years after the Heresy.

At the Imperium level, Anivia wanted to expand hub-fortresses into self-governing fiefdoms. The idea was to cross-appoint key personnel from enough different factions so that no hub-fortress was controlled by a single faction. This included space marines from different Chapters as well as Inquisition and Ecclesiarchy presence. And, of course, regular mortal bureaucrats and Imperial Guards.

She presented a skeleton of an idea to the people of Avalus, including her intention of turning Avalus into a hub-fortress. The biggest challenge of Imperium Nihilus, she explained, was the uncertainty around communication and travel. Consequently, it was beneficial for each planet to be self-sustaining, at least in terms of food and basic necessities. Beyond that, her plan was to have each world supporting a slow production of space marine equipment with some specialization but sufficient cross-system redundancy, so that battleships could land anywhere and find basic supplies.

As usual, Anivia left the supply chain calculations to Guilliman and spent her own time preparing for a way of structuring the planetary governing system. It would have to be tweaked, of course, but she had learned a lot from observing it working on Avalus in the past months.

The meeting lasted for almost an entire day. Almost everyone spoke at some point, providing feedback and brainstorming ideas. The world of Avalus was never as hierarchical as Terra or Macragge, and surviving the Great Rift had given these people a unique sense of comradery. They saw Anivia as much more than a title, and they did not shy away from speaking their minds when they knew their opinions would be valued.

It was the longest meeting Anivia had ever held, eclipsing even Talasa Prime.

As soon as she turned onto her side of the hallway and lost sight of the others, she grabbed onto Valoris’s cloak and leaned into him. It took Valoris a second to understand her intentions.

He carried her to her chamber and put her on the bed. She was already asleep, but she held onto his cloak tightly. Valoris awkwardly bent over the bed before untying the cloak from his neck.

“You should say,” Colquan said. He was sub-vocalizing, in a volume that only the gene-enhanced hearing of the Custodes could pick out.

Valoris looked at him in an expression that only another Custodian would be able to recognize as surprise.

Colquan waited for a moment but Valoris did not speak. Instead, the Captain-General looked at his Tribune in an odd way. An oddly familiar way. In a way that...remarkably resembled the Regent.

That was it. Valoris looked at him like how Anivia would look at him. Calm. Patient. Very much in control. And slightly amused.

“You should stay,” he grunted again and left the room.

Anivia slept well.

It took her a few seconds upon waking to figure out what it was—it was Valoris. He had not left. Instead, he sat on the bed next to her and was idly reading his dataslate.

He noticed Anivia’s waking immediately and turned off his dataslate and put it aside. Then he looked at her, as if waiting for her to speak. But she did not speak. She was speechless.

“My lord?” He asked eventually.

“Um, yes.” Anivia blinked, “sorry, I’m just kinda shocked to find you here.”

Valoris tilted his head slightly with an expression that could be construed as a smile if one squinted hard enough. Anivia did not squint, though. She merely sat up a little and leaned sideways.

She would never in a thousand years have imagined herself cuddling with Valoris, but here she was. And it was very nice.

“How did you know I was in Imperium Nihilus?” Anivia asked. She realized she had been so focus on the future that she hadn’t properly recounted the past yet.

“A dream,” replied Valoris simply.

That was convenient. “Did Valerian and Caslev receive it too? How were they? I’m surprised they didn’t ask to come along.” Mused Anivia.

Valoris’s expression darkened. He seemed to be hesitating over how to explain the situation.

“They were...not well,” he said finally. “Neither was I. The dream did not come for months, not even after we repelled the chaos forces on Talasa Prime. When I finally received it, I was already halfway across the Gauntlet—I was going to cross the Rift and confer with Guilliman.”

“Oh.” Anivia said dryly. So they didn’t actually know she was alive.

“Um, how were things when you left?” She struggled to formulate the question diplomatically, “people didn’t, um, attack the Deathwatch or the Grey Knights, did they?”

Valoris gave her a glance and said icily, “I almost killed Varn. Valerian stopped me.”

Eek. It was such a harsh tone of voice, Anivia was half expecting him to say and so I killed Valerian too.

“It was Valerian who suggested that I go to Guilliman for counsel,” Valoris added, his tone softening somewhat, “you trained him well.”

“You trained him,” said Anivia with a raised eyebrow, “I barely worked with him.”

“You have not worked with him much in Ultramar,” agreed Valoris, “but you did back on Terra. He has studied your work closely.”

Anivia blinked. She remembered finding Valerian’s workstyle remarkably easy to understand. She had thought it was simply because he had matured as a leader. He had indeed matured—in the direction she had shown him.

Anivia smiled. Although she had decided not to try to change the Custodes, knowing that some of them were willing to change still made her happy. She nestled closer to Valoris.

“You give yourselves too little credit,” she said. “You will be great beacons for humanity.”

Great torchbearers, perhaps, thought Valoris.

In one of the very rare occasions where she saw through his thoughts, Anivia looked up with half-closed eyes, “not all of them are fit to lead, but not everyone needs to be a leader. We don’t need that many leaders. The Custodes are much more than that. You were right in forcing me into this. I’m glad I let you force me into this.”

Valoris pressed his lips together tightly and looked away. If Anivia didn’t know better, she would’ve thought he was shy.

After a moment of contemplation, he turned back to Anivia and said suddenly, “I want you, my lord.”

Anivia blinked blankly.

He looked down at her with his usual focused intensity, like it was the only thing that ever mattered to him.

Custodians were, by virtue of being gene-enhanced super soldiers, capable of processing many cognitive streams simultaneously. This ability was crucial in their effectiveness on battlefields, since Custodians were solo fighters that did not rely on coordination of teamwork. Outside battle, however, they seemed to resist multitasking almost as a matter of principle, using meditations and similar activities to help hone their focus.

When Valoris looked at Anivia, it was like the world stopped existing to him.

Still, it took Anivia a moment to process his words.

“Say that again,” she said finally, with a slightly dazed expression.

“I want you, my lord,” he said again, slowly, and in a deeper voice.

She pulled herself up and kissed him.

Chapter Text

Anivia would like to think that she had an adequate appraisal of her own strengths and limitations. She was by no means without limitations, but there was one thing she had always pride herself in, and that was her self-control.

She wasn’t so sure about that anymore.

She had pinned the Custodian down by the shoulder. He was so physically large that, even when she spread her body out, her hip could only reach his stomach. There was no way she could straddle his waist and so she settled on precariously laying on top of him.

She explored his mouth with her tongue. He had sharp canine teeth, which he held as still as he could so as to not accidentally injure her. His breath trembled. The more fervent her kiss was, the less he dared to return it. His entire being was held back by a hair thread. He felt like if he just breathed a little harder he would lose it.

As usual, Anivia didn’t care. She was also making this impossibly difficult for him. It had always been difficult for Valoris to convince himself that she really truly wanted him. In the beginning, he had more or less imposed himself onto her by force. Later, there were many strategic reasons why she would keep him around and indulge in his unusual desires.

He felt immense pride when she called him a good leader and sent him away. The realization that she trusted not only his loyalties but also his abilities almost sent him to the stars. Custodes were not supposed to feel pride. And Valoris had accomplished many feats in his life that others would consider prideworthy. He was the only Custodian with a recorded two successes in blood games, for example. But with each success the burden only increased. He did not mind it—he was made to serve. But he had never really considered such successes as accomplishments.

When he traveled away from Macragge, his heart ached with every lightyear of distance he was putting between them. But he also couldn’t shake the feeling that he had accomplished something. Something important. Something precious. Something he had been waiting for his entire life. For once in his long, immortal existence, he felt worthy. All those constant self-examination, obsessively studying every imagined imperfection, trying to reach for a light he couldn’t even see had finally paid off. He was worthy. His lord considered him worthy.

And now, his lord considered him desirable.

Valoris inhaled deeply and their tongues touched. For a brief moment the world swirled around him. The thread of his rationality thinned even more. He let out a quiet but audible sigh.

“I’m delighted to hear that you want me,” Anivia said between kisses and with a smile in her voice. “Tell me more.”

“I—” he tried to formulate some sensible response as her kiss began to travel downward along his neck.

“My lord I—” he was stopped by a gasp. She bit the side of his neck and then licked it.

“Continue,” she ordered with her lips still on his skin.

“I want to stay with you,” he said.

Then he was rewarded—disrupted?—by another bite, this one on his nipple. It was not a strong bite. Not even hard enough to leave a mark. He wished she could bite harder.

He ran his hands across her back, feeling the soft skin against his calloused palm. She sighed at the sensation and arced her body to chase the touch. He felt dizzy.

“My lord, I want to serve—” he paused to let a moan trickle out of his throat. He could feel the warmth of Anivia’s tongue on his nipple.

“—you forever.” He managed to finish. Anivia’s kiss traveled downward still and every muscle in Valoris’s body tensed in anticipation.

“I want you, my lord, I want you to—”

He groaned when he felt a wet tongue slowly passing on the slid of his cock. Somehow he managed to stop himself from thrusting upward. His abdominal muscles contracted so much he had stopped breathing.

“You want me to what?” She asked with her lips still on his gland. The vibration sent shivers down his spine.

“—to never let me go,” he said.

Anivia chuckled. She gave his cock another lick before sitting up to look at him. His eyes were murky but they locked onto hers as soon as they could. He looked slightly dazed. Mouth open with a light pant.

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” she said teasingly.

He hummed an affirmative response. Then he suddenly sat up and leaned over to kiss her. His hands still braced her back for balance.

A surprise flashed over her face, then she chuckled some more. She leaned back a little in a gesture to have him take over.

She should have expected that, when left entirely to his own devices, the Custodian’s instinct was always to serve.

She muffled a sob as he carefully pressed his tongue along the crevice of her fold. What he lacked in experience he made up in dedication and thoroughness. He was not even pleasuring himself—both of his hands were wrapped around Anivia’s thighs. But he seemed to be getting high just on her response alone.

Anivia would be the first to admit that she was quite a controlling person—she preferred to stay in control and she was pretty good at it. Yet letting Valoris take the reign was indescribably exciting in some way. To learn about what he was into. To let him explore his curiosities. To trust herself to his command. It was all very foreign to Anivia. And the foreignness added to the excitement.

She came again with a hum. For all her obsession at making Valoris vocalize, she herself tended to be relatively quiet in bed. Except for when Guilliman intentionally tried to make her plead, of course. No one could defy a primarch. Not even in bed.

Valoris was clearly turned on by any amount of noise Anivia made. But being who he was, he would never ask for it. He would take what he could get. Anivia liked that about him.

Still, he was patient. He was nothing if not patient. He’d wait obediently in the shadows, observing her every move. He would never ask for anything, but he would take it whenever he could. He was relentless, like a hunter creeping in the dark, waiting for his chance, never missing a shot.

And one thing would lead to another, and he would get everything he wanted after all.

When Anivia woke up again, Valoris still had not left.

He had his dataslate in his hand again and was typing something when she woke. He looked to her immediately but did not put the dataslate away.

“We are ready to depart, my lord,” he said.

Anivia was pretty sure he was not saying this as banter, but she rolled her eyes nonetheless. She could hardly lift a finger, let alone walk. Her thighs were sore. Her stomach muscles hurt. And she certainly did not appreciate being reminded that the reason they hadn’t left was because she had taken her Custodian to bed.

“My lord?” He asked in a slightly curious tone.

Anivia sighed. She briefly considered how much dignity she would lose if she had her Custodian carry her onboard.

“Are they planning to do a ceremony?” She asked.

“A short one, I believe.” He checked his dataslate, “I have confirmed the logistics already. Would you like to doublecheck?”

“Do you think I could sit through it?”

Valoris blinked once as he tried to comprehend his lord’s words. Then he looked at her uncertainly, observing her body. Then, a shadow of a smile rose from his lips.

Anivia rolled her eyes so hard she almost strained her eyeball.

Valoris finally put down his dataslate. He extended his large, superhuman-sized hands—the same hands that were responsible for her current state—and slowly began to massage her muscles.

Chapter Text

Warp travel in Imperium Nihilus was always gruelling. They could only make short-distance jumps through the warp and would frequently encounter chaos warbands. Colquan’s default response was to leave them be and not waste Custodian time on something that could be dealt with by space marines or, throne forbid, the Imperial Guard.

Unfortunately for Colquan, he was far from in charge. Valoris either did not have an opinion or did not think it was important enough to voice. Instead, Anivia and Klanie discussed the pros and cons of each encounter before sending Custodian strike forces to make precision interventions.

It was the first time Klanie had issued military orders to anyone at all, let alone to the Emperor’s golden demigods. She came to their morning meetings everyday with dark circles around her eyes and her voice shook violently whenever she talked to Valoris. She had yet dared to talk to Colquan.

In a way, Anivia was happy to see this. She had been quite impressed by Klanie’s performance so far—she had wanted Klanie to be a social tie, but out of necessity she had had to dump a lot of miscellaneous responsibilities onto Klanie, and Klanie had held herself together remarkably well. Still, Klanie was young and malleable, freshly thrown into a world so different from the one she knew. Anivia had seen people like this being dragged down by their own capabilities. They were too good and they accomplished too much with too little effort. They got drunk on the idea that they could succeed at anything they wanted, and they forgot why they were doing it in the first place.

It happened often to the High Lords. If they were lucky, they would be replaced quickly. More often, though, the High Lords would stay, slowly emitting toxicity into the air until they bloated up so much their capabilities could no longer support their weight. Then they would explode, and taking a piece of the Imperium with them.

Anivia had watched it happen several times before. She had been the cause of some of those explosions and had been the one to contain the rest. She did not want to send Klanie down that path. So far, it was good to see Klanie retain her sense of self even after being suddenly elevated to enough height that she was issuing orders to the Captain-General of the Custodes.

“You do know that Valoris outranks Colquan, right?” Anivia remarked one evening over dinner when Klanie had yet again relayed a piece of message meant for Colquan through Valoris.

“I, um...” Klanie’s face flustered red, her eyes darting quickly to the Custodian Tribune in the room—more precisely, to his boots.

Her lord was scrolling a dataslate while casually sipping recaf. She had a calm, unremarkable expression on her face, but Klanie knew instantly what Anivia’s intention was. Anivia was not very difficult to understand, though that did not make it easier for Klanie to prepare to respond.

“I’m not trying to get you to be comfortable ordering Custodes around,” Anivia said without lifting her eyes, “because you won’t be doing that very much in the future. But I am curious. I’ve been trying to understand how Imperium citizens decide which metahumans to fear.”

“I don’t even know where to start, my lord,” Klanie sighed.

“Come to think of it, Valoris was quite scary when we first met,” mused Anivia. “And when I first met Colquan, he told me to not go into the war room because I didn’t belong there.”

Colquan opened his mouth as if to protest, but nothing came out. He looked a little embarrassed at first, then he frowned, as if confused by his own embarrassment.

Suddenly, he was no longer scary at all. His irritable superhuman façade was shattered in an instant. Klanie suddenly realized she could meet his eyes after all.

She looked at Anivia and shared in her lord’s amusement with a smile. It did not matter that she knew what her lord’s scheming was. It was always successful.

Vigilus was, and perhaps always would be, a war zone.

Anivia was never a soldier, but having spent a few months with the Lion and his crew had made it easy to forget. When she was served an entire feast of carefully procured food that was specially tailored to mimic Terran delicacies, she almost broke down to tears.

“This is the Imperium worth fighting for!” She exclaimed to Zabriel, who was sent to receive her. Both primarchs were still engaged in battlefield matters and wouldn’t be available until later.

“Lord Guilliman had been preparing for this since he first heard of your presence,” Zabriel smiled. “He would be glad to hear of your approval.”

“In that case, I shall look forward to the next 48 hours of the fruit of that labour,” Anivia said with an amused contentment. “It is not everyday that one gets to enjoy the unwarranted apology from the Lord Commander.”

Zabriel did not comment. He had been by the Lion’s side almost the entire time, which meant that he had learned of the regent’s intimacy with the Lord of Ultramar from his own lips. This kind of human-metahuman relationship was never common, but it wasn’t as inconceivable during the Great Crusade as it was now. What was inconceivable was the fact that she didn’t lead with this information when she first met the Lion and had to contend with his suspicion.

Came to think of it, that wouldn’t have worked on the Lion, and Zabriel had observed enough about Anivia to be able to tell that she would know this. Perhaps this was why Lord Guilliman—a primarch known for his rationality and self-control—fell for something Zabriel thought was not part of their brain to begin with.

Anivia was going to throw all of her work at Guilliman and just take it easy, but before she realized it, she was already collating the data package into task lists, noting areas in need of additional information and her (incomplete) recommendations for personnel. She then promptly sent Klanie, Zabriel, and the two Custodians to work.

Zabriel’s order was to wait on Anivia and attend to her needs, but he found himself quite unable to refuse the regent. After she said “what I need right now is for you to do this thing for me” with that smile of hers, he finally relented. He tripled-checked the security (her two Custodians had already each checked once) and went away.

Anivia spent another hour finalizing the workflow, then she finally took a break. Well, sort of a break.

She still brought things in her mind to the bath—she had not spent much time organizing the presentation she was going to give to the Vigilus forces about the future of Imperium Nihilus. This was low priority on her list because she was confident that both Guilliman and the Lion would be able to understand her, and in the worst case scenario she could have Guilliman explain it instead.

Still, it would be nice to have the human regent deliver the orders, especially since she wasn’t planning on ever returning to Imperium Nihilus. Anivia hadn’t given a speech in quite some time and had to remember which phrases worked better for which audience. She scribbled them down on a dataslate.

She was using Guilliman’s bath. It was basically a swimming pool. Guilliman even prepared a floating device for her in case she drowned in the 2-meter-deep water.

To help him stop her from drowning in a bathtub, Anivia set an alarm to make sure she didn’t overdo it. She was very proud of her foresight for about 5 seconds before realizing that she had not brought any clothes out. In fact she didn’t even know what happened to her luggage—she had put Valoris in charge of that so Klanie could catch a break. That was a mistake.

Anivia calmly went to Guilliman’s bedroom and opened his closet.

As expected, he didn’t have much. He spent most of his time in bodygloves and armour nowadays. Still, he had something more civilian for the purpose of doing politics. Anivia found a shirt. It was ultramarine coloured, with golden embellishment. It was just slightly shorter than a short dress.

As Anivia was putting it on, a loud machine hiss sounded at the door. She turned around with arms still stretched in the air and—

—“Um, hi?” She awkwardly turned it into a wave.

He did not speak. He seemed speechless. His typically light-blue-coloured eyes darkened as he stared at her unblinkingly. It took him a long time to remember to breathe.

“I…it’s…” He seemed to be at a loss for what to say. Then he finally stepped into the room so the door could close properly be hind him and he took a deep breath.

“Anivia,” called Guilliman.

Chapter Text

Anivia never knew a desire so strong she could almost sense it crystalizing in the air. The way Guilliman stared at her made her toes curl. She swallowed and that, of course, made it worse for him.

There was something predatory in his gaze, in the way it traveled up and down her body. It activated a primal instinct in her. She could feel her muscles contract, though she suspected that neither fight nor flight would ever work on a primarch. She could also feel a warmth traveling down from her heart into her lower abdomen. She subconsciously rubbed her bare thighs together. He drew in a sharp breath in response.

She knew what he wanted and she wanted the same thing too. There was only one problem—he was in full armour.

Well, without helmet, but that didn’t help.

Neither of them spoke in a long time, both struggling to control their own burning desire. There was no way for Anivia to observe Guilliman’s bodily response, but it wasn’t difficult to guess based on the way his breath trembled through clenched teeth. She swore she was not trying to make it harder for him, but there was something about the way he looked at her that stoked the fire in her soul. She was wet and she could tell that he could smell it—even she herself could smell it. Without an underwear it was threatening to drip down her bare legs. She pressed her thighs more tightly together to prevent that and almost moaned from the sensation.

Guilliman was as still as a statue. He had not blinked since he saw her. He had just decided to stop breathing too.

Eventually, Anivia offered, “you could…take off your armour and come back?”

Guilliman nodded slowly but did not move. He seemed completely enamoured by what was in front of him that he was quite incapable of moving.

Well, she gave him a chance, and if he wasn’t going to take it, he would just have to live with the consequences. Anivia smiled a little shyly and called out to him.

“Roboute.”

That was the last nail in his coffin. Guilliman tore off his gauntlets and threw them aside. The metal hissed in protest. He crossed the bedroom in two easy strides and picked Anivia up from the floor.

He wanted to kiss her so badly. He would give anything just to feel her skin on his face. But his chest armour was too bulky—it had been sanitized according to the standard procedure, but still not clean enough for him to feel comfortable pressing on her naked skin.

Guilliman cursed under his breath and Anivia laughed. She extended her arms to touch his face. He took her hands into his mouth immediately and felt her fingers against his tongue.

“You look so fucking hot right now,” he said in a half whisper. “So fucking hot I can’t believe it Anivia. I can’t handle it. You can’t believe how painfully hard I am right now.”

Anivia lunged forward to try to kiss him but was held back by his large, warm hands. She giggled as she struggled in midair. “You need to lay down,” she said eventually.

Guilliman complied and laid down on the floor. He was enormous. His armour was enormous. It hummed and hissed.

Anivia knelt next to his head, bending over to finally give him a proper kiss. He finally breathed, and breathed deeply.

They kissed each other for a long time, until Anivia’s knees finally gave out. She was going to sit back for a little respite, but Guilliman lifted her up entirely and seated her over his face.

Oh fuck. She swore quietly when her wet spot touched his lips. She then swore loudly when she felt his tongue.

For a moment there she couldn’t feel anything else. Stars danced in the periphery of her visual field and she ground her hip down erratically. He hummed, and the vibration made her muscles twitch so violently she almost fell over.

He grabbed her by the thighs for stability, then he enforced a kind of rhythm. Anivia moaned with every movement as she fucked herself on his tongue. She had never felt this out of control since…

…since they were last together, she supposed.

Anivia had always been the one who needed to take care of everyone around her. Guilliman was the only one who did not need that. He loved having her help, but he did not truly need it. He could’ve done it all himself if he had to. He could’ve held it all together. Anivia was never going to let him do it alone of course, but in moments like these she found that she could let herself go like never before, in his presence like nowhere else. He was the one person she never needed to worry about. She was but a light on his path. In the end the journey was his. She only wondered if she was bright enough for him.

She came with something like a sob but Guilliman did not stop his assault. With a curl of his tongue he drank her arousal down, earning another moan from her. Then his omophagea sent a hint of her ecstasy into his brain. It was a much more dampened experience than the real thing, but combined with the thought that it was hers was enough to send him over the edge. He grunted with a mixture of satisfaction and frustration.

And now he had to walk through the hallways to the arming chamber, covered in smells of her which he could not really wash off, with his cock still painfully erected against the power armour. He would have to somehow do all this while keeping his dignity intact. It was one of the very few tasks even his primarch brain could not be confident in.

It was worth it though.

Chapter Text

The Lion never got along with the Sigillite—none of the primarchs did, save perhaps the Khan. For a mere human he was unfathomably arrogant. That itself was not a problem, for the Lion had dealt with his share of arrogant humans. The worst part was that the Sigillite had the abilities to back up his arrogant. That was unforgivable, at least in the eyes of Horus.

The Lion observed the Regent as she spoke. She was almost unrecognizably charismatic, like a completely different person from how she was aboard the Lunar Knight or even when reforming Avalus. Guilliman sat next to him and listened with a neutral expression, but the Lion could tell his brother was completely enamoured by her speech, both the content and the delivery. She seemed so authentic, so trustworthy, so determined. She reminded the Lion of one of the those iterators during the Great Crusade. Though the Lion would never admit it at the time, those human iterators were perhaps responsible for more compliances than the legionaries were.

The most remarkable thing was that the Lion knew that this was not her default mode of operation. He might not be the best judge of character when compared to many of his brothers, but his abilities of observation easily exceeded a baseline human’s ability for performance. He knew that the true Anivia was the one he had known aboard the Lunar Knight—sharp, logical, pragmatic, ruthlessly efficient, surprisingly easy to entertain.

She was also arrogant. The Lion could tell. It was a kind of arrogance that was different from the Lion’s own or any of the primarchs’. In fact, her brand of arrogance was remarkably similar to Malcador’s or, perhaps, the Emperor’s. He could see it in how patient she was with Zabriel and the other Dark Angels. She was so confident in her vision that she wanted others to challenge her—so she could explain her reasoning and convince them. She was never unbalanced by the Lion’s suspicion because she never depended on anyone else’s unconditional trust. She was willing to prove herself to him, to earn his trust like she earned so much else. And she did exactly that.

The Lion was never close with Guilliman exactly, but through their misadventure together during the Ruinstorm they had come to understand each other despite the differences between their sensibilities. The Lion could tell how deeply his brother had fallen and he was happy for him. Guilliman had chosen a difficult path—a path that even the Lion did not fully trust himself to undertake. He was glad to see his brother not having to make these choices alone.

The pacing was perfect.

After the inspirational speech, there was a lunch break where people could exchange excitement. Then, layers of documents were disseminated. Those who were estimated to still have brainpower left—mostly Astartes and the Mechanicus—were given decision items and deliberation tasks. Everyone else was given orders. Riding on the inspirational adrenaline, productivity in the first 24 standard hours was through the roof.

Everything had been meticulously planned out with Guilliman and repeatedly rehearsed with him, Klanie, and a few Astartes whom Guilliman deemed to be good at this sort of thing.

Valoris and Colquan were also both present. Although Anivia had long given up the idea of training any Custodes in state governance, she noticed them paying attention. That was rare, especially for Colquan.

She shot Valoris a glance of amusement. Valoris did not respond, but Colquan had caught it and huffed.

Anivia spent almost every night with Guilliman.

Most of that time was spent in planning and discussion. Now that the Lion had returned, the prospect of reforming the Imperium became much more realistic, which paradoxically meant that their workload had much increased.

The Lion often joined these discussions, though he would always leave by midnight. At first he found excuses. After a while he began to simply leave. Guilliman would always blush at that. Anivia would always laugh.

“It pains me to think about how long it will be before I see you again,” Guilliman had said one night.

As usual, by the time they returned to conversation, Anivia was not very awake anymore. She murmured, “then I’ll stay with you.”

“Do not jest, or one day I might take it seriously,” Guilliman’s voice was smiling. He was glad that Anivia was too tired to keep her eyes open, since he wasn’t sure if his forced smile would’ve escaped her observation.

“Fine, I’ll see you after you win, then,” said Anivia. “I vaguely remember you promising me that you’ll win this war for me, though I don’t remember which war you were referring to.”

Guilliman chuckled and kissed her on the forehead, “why do I feel like you have become sassier since I last saw you?”

“Must be the Inquisition,” said Anivia, “it’s making me forget my place.”

“Your place is anywhere you want to be,” said Guilliman.

“Don’t say that, or one day I might take it seriously,” Anivia smiled with her eyes still closed.

“It is true,” Guilliman kissed her again, a little more affectionately this time. When he was done, he had to take a deep breath to tame the desire that had just begun to stir again.

Anivia opened her eyes briefly to glance at him. He seemed to be sincere in his words. He might’ve truly believed them too. She decided not to make it harder for him by saying but I want to be with you.

Instead, she said, “don’t worry about me, Roboute. Do what you must do. Both me and the Imperium will be here for you.”

He drew in a sharp, unsteady breath. “You are not making this easier for me,” he whispered. Anivia laughed silently and kissed him back.

Chapter Text

The journey back to Imperium Sanctum was bumpy.

According to Valoris, it was much, much smoother than his trip to Nihilus. According to Colquan, it was about the same as when Guilliman travelled across the Rift. Everyone else thanked the Emperor daily that they were still alive.

Anivia left half of Valoris’s team with Guilliman. She did not take any of his administrators, but did take a bunch of documents, including some fragmented pieces of the new Codex Imperialis—a treatise on governance—he had been working on. As per Anivia’s suggestion, he had prioritized the bit that as meant for Astartes. He had floated the idea of having Anivia write the bit meant for mortals, but Anivia did not have the energy, so the book was still far from finished.

As usual, it was going to be tested out by Ultramar first. Maybe Anivia could convince Fabian to help her with drafting.

The most surprising company that came with Anivia was Zabriel. She somewhat expected to be asked to take a Dark Angel back, but she did not expect this to be Zabriel. She did not think the Lion felt safe enough to let him go yet. Despite his stoicism, the Lion was quite transparent in her eyes, and she could see how much he had come to rely on these mysterious ancient sons of his for comfort in this alien Imperium. She supposed it was good that the Lion seemed to have so readily trusted Guilliman.

Now that Imperium Nihilus had two primarchs in charge, Anivia could finally relax her attention to deal with other matters.

Colquan blinked again.

He had not let this restlessness distract him for even an unnoticeably little amount from perfectly carrying out all of his duties, but he could feel himself getting there. He was wound up so tight it was long past breaking point, and he just about managed to hold himself together through sheer force of will, and it was wearing thin with every passing second.

Fortunately, his characteristic demeaner of barely held-back anger had stopped most people from prying enough to notice that his irritation was even more severe than his typical self and was not caused by its usual source. Unfortunately, no amount of aggressive staring was going to fool Valoris. The thought of Valoris’s penetrating eyes seeing through his restlessness made Colquan’s stomach twitch and he didn’t even know why. He almost wanted to avoid his Captain-General.

Almost. Not quite. His genetically encoded obedience would not have let that happen, which was why he found himself standing here.

Alone. Awkwardly. Without armour. Strangely vulnerable. In the Regent’s private courters.

Colquan blinked again, trying to steady his breathing. He decided to practice one of the most ancient meditation techniques and choose an object around him to focus on.

The...lamp, perhaps. It was off at the moment, but Colquan remembered its light. He had seen it lit up when he reported to Anivia close to her prescribed night time. There was no natural star light onboard a voidship, but the human crew would still maintain the appropriate day-night cycle by adjusting the intensity and saturation of the lighting.

This lamp had a warm orange hue, and Anivia often used it alone. The rest of the chamber would be in darkness, much like the darkness he was in right now. The soft lighting would illuminate only one side of her body, but his eyes would still be able to penetrate the shadows and taking her in in full. Her human aid once complained that the lumen was too dim to read with, and she had chuckled at that. There was a particular way that her hair moved that was especially mesmerizing under the warm orange lighting. It draped down her shoulders like liquid gold. He could hear the rustling sound of her hair moving against her night gown.

That...did not help. He needed to think of something else.

Colquan willed his attention back from the lamp and looked around him some more. He had been in this chamber several times before. Most of Anivia’s audience was held in a meeting chamber across the hall, but this study was where she did most of her solo work. It was attached to her bedchamber and therefore had a high security clarence. With Anivia’s habit of starting to work the moment her eyes opened, Colquan found himself frequently tasked with getting his lord out of the bedchamber so she could get to her meetings, or at least eat some food.

His eyes fell upon the bookcase. Bookcase. Right. That should be safe. Much safer than the armchair she usually sat in, the tea cup on the desk she drank with, or, throne forbid, the bedchamber door.

The bookcase was, of course, filled with books. Curiously, most were not reports. He supposed the reports were all digital. Anivia enjoyed read physical books and writing on parchment—a habit she retained from her Terran days. Physical papers and parchments were expensive, and someone else would have to transcribe the information digitally for storage. Writing by hand was a symbol of wealth and influence.

The books that populated this bookcase were not from Terra, however. Most of them were in fact from Avalus's ancient archive, which Anivia at one point had gone through like how Colquan would go through his private weapon collections. All priceless artifacts whose worth rivaled the tithe of entire star systems, casually held in her delicate fingers, shoved into a crammed bookcase as evening entertainment.

It was how it was supposed to be, thought Colquan. She was the lord of the court and of culture. These cultural artifacts were hers by right, just as how his weapons were his tools, to do with however he saw fit, to be treasured or discarded by his whim alone.

...Just as how he was hers by right.

Colquan turned his head sharply when the door hissed open.

“—what I’m saying is simply that we can afford to give her another chance so we might as well.” Anivia spoke into her vox bead. She was looking down at the dataslate and her eyes squinted as the lumens turned on in response to movement.

“—he’s not gonna kill her if that’s what you’re worried about,” she continued speaking as she walked across the room to her desk. She put her dataslate on the desk and turned around, folding her arms across her chest—

“...yes, two days is fine. I have to go. Report to me in two days.” She said the last bit entirely on autopilot. Then she pulled off her vox comm, turned it off, and set it on the desk.

“Tribune? What brought you here? I didn’t miss a meeting, did I?” She checked her chrono more out of habit than anything else. She did not have any meeting for the rest of today. She was not that clueless about her own schedule.

Colquan shook his head. He had a dazed look that brought back a particular memory. Anivia chuckled.

“What brought you here?” She asked again, “don’t tell me Valoris sent you.”

Colquan tilted his head slightly in confusion. “Yes,” he said, “the Captain-General sent me.”

Anivia burst out laughing.

She laughed quietly but intensely, holding her stomach with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. Her silver hair shook upon her shoulders, making the exact same sound Colquan had been imagining only moments before.

He ought to be upset—she was doubtlessly laughing at him. And even if she had every right to do with him however she willed, he ought to at lease be a little bit offended by this.

But he was not. Instead, he felt the air thinning with her laughter, as if she was taking up the entire room’s worth of oxygen, leaving none for him. Then, she raised a hand and beckoned.

Colquan walked up to her way too fast. She blinked once and he was right in front of her, a little closer than what was typically socially acceptable, not close enough to signal his understanding of the gesture.

He was more than two feet taller than her, so to save her neck some strain Anivia decided to not look at his face. Instead, she extended an arm around his waist, putting the hand upon his lower back.

She curled her finger to draw a half circle and he almost fell onto her. Then she felt something warm and firm pressing against her stomach and he let out a soft moan.

Anivia chuckled more and Colquan grunted in protest. The grunt quickly became another moan when she shifted her body against his rock hard desire. He supported himself with one hand on the desk. She could hear his trembling breaths directly above her head.

For a painfully long—for Colquan, at least—time, Anivia was content to simply stand there, her fingers lazily drawing idle circles on his lower back, lighting fires upon the thin fabric of his clothing. She listened to his breathing, felt the light trembling of his body as his muscles tensed. Every minute shift of her body earned a moan from his throat. She could almost track how it bubbled out of his chest just above her forehead, the sound landing somewhere just out of her visual field. She could sense his body being wound up tighter and tighter, long past its breaking point, yet stubbornly refusing to break.

“What do you want, Tribune?” She asked softly.

He made a noise that sounded like he had forgotten that speech existed. That amused her further. Just as Colquan took in a breath to be ready to reply, Anivia leaned into him, her stomach firmly pressing against his cock, and that breath became a groan so needy even Colquan tried to stifle it.

Anivia made a gesture as if trying to climb up him and Colquan reflexively held her up, lifting her off the ground. Anivia hummed in approval and leaned in to kiss his neck. Colquan’s hand clutched tighter on her back. He was evidently not used to handling baseline humans and he let out just a bit too much force. Anivia gasped and Colquan let her go immediately. He then had an almost comedic moment where he hurriedly braced her again so she didn’t fall onto the desk. His reaction time was so fast that she did not in fact feel endangered in any way, but it was sufficiently clumsy by Custodian standard that Colquan cursed himself on the inside. He shook his head curtly and clenched his teeth to try to regain control over his body.

Anivia put a hand on the side of his face. He seemed startled.

“What’s on your mind?” She asked.

“...that I will triple my training regimen to atone for this weakness,” he replied on autopilot.

Anivia smiled up at him. There was a certain sadness in her eyes that made Colquan’s mind go completely blank. He had a sudden panic that he had messed up somehow, that he had messed up so profoundly he couldn’t even fathom how he had messed up.

“I will—” he was going to suggest quadruple his training regimen and go on a penance, but his words died in his throat as Anivia reached up to kiss him—on the lips.

Twice in two seconds, his mind was wiped clean.

It was a gentle kiss, lasting just lone enough for his senses to return. Then, Anivia rested her forehead against his chin and said almost in a sigh, “you are not weak, Colquan. You are good the way you are.”

Colquan did not understand, and yet he did not want to open his mouth to ask lest it disturbed his lord.

After a moment, she leaned back to look at him again. He could tell that she saw through this silence of his, that she knew he didn’t understand her. Yet the sadness in her smile was gone.

He would never understand his lord, thought Colquan.

At least he still understood her commands.

Anivia commanded Colquan to move to the couch. It was designed to seat Astartes comfortably, and Colquan’s legs stuck out like a tall man on a small sofa. Anivia half-knelt half-sat on top of him. When she reached up to kiss his neck, her knee would press down onto his erection in familiar, maddening firmness. He couldn’t think of anything at all. He couldn’t even hear himself moaning.

Just as Colquan was getting ready to spend the rest of eternity on this couch, Anivia had stopped and pulled back. At first he chased her touch reflexively, but she evaded him again, and he had to blink hard to refocus.

Anivia’s smile was...mischievous. That was a description Colquan had never thought he’d use to describe his lord, but there was no other way to put it. Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she pointed at something on his collar.

The light on his vox comm was flashing.

He looked at it with a frown, then he looked back at his lord, not quite processing the significance of this.

“You are still on duty,” Anivia poked at his comm bead with her finger. “This could be important.”

Colquan grunted. Once again he could see Anivia finding amusement at his expense. Once again he failed to make himself take offense.

He opened up the link.

“Speak,” he commanded. His voice cracked in a way he had not expected, but he resisted the urge to clear his throat as soon as he realized who was on the other side.

“My lord Tribune,” said Klanie Dio, the uncannily perceptive human aid Anivia had picked up from the Lion’s base world, “I cannot reach my Lord Regent. Could you confirm if she has any engagement post supper? Lord Zabriel of the Dark Angels asks for counsel.”

“I—” The rest of Colquan’s words were cut off in his throat. Every muscle of his body tensed as he stifled all sound.

Anivia shifted on Colquan’s lap. She was not doing it intentionally to tease him—ok, she was doing this a little bit to tease him, but more importantly she was trying to create some distance. She signed in Thoughtmark.

Colquan took in a long breath through gritted teeth. He still had one hand behind Anivia’s back, preventing his animated lord from falling off. His other hand clutched at his own collar where the comm bead was, trying his best not to moan.

“My lord? You cut out for a second there,” thankfully the clutch had caused enough friction noise on the comm bead that Klanie was entirely unsuspecting.

“The Regent is resting,” said Colquan in a voice that was almost indistinguishable from pure rage.

“Oh! Um...” Klanie had clearly just lost the entirety of the courage she managed to accumulate in the past few months from interacting with Colquan. “In that case I’ll let lord Zabriel know...”

“—the Regent is free after supper,” Colquan interrupted her, “and she will see him.”

As soon as that last sentence was spoken, Anivia began to laugh.

She made no sound, but she was shaking on top of him. Through the already dampened cloth between his crotch and her bottom, the sensation was almost unbearable. Colquan closed his eyes and breathed heavily. He didn’t even have any sanity left to think about what she might be laughing at.

“Anything else?” He growled at the comm bead.

“N...no, lord,” stammered Klanie. “Dio cutting out!”

Colquan pulled the comm bead off and threw it onto the coffee table. Then he held onto Anivia with both hands and rolled his hip upward. Anivia made a quiet moan in response, but Colquan did not notice. He angled his upper body almost into a half circle and buried his head into the nook between Anivia’s neck and shoulder. He took in a deep breath.

At some point Anivia had learned the (from her perspective) useless knowledge that Custodes had the same number of organs as baseline humans, which meant Colquan had only two lungs. But Anivia imagined they had to be much larger than hers. It really felt like this breath was going to last for an eternity.

Colquan was warm—all of these superhumans had body temperatures higher than baselines. For a moment there Colquan seemed content just to hold onto her.

Then Anivia said, “she would know now.”

“...what?” Colquan frowned in confusion.

“Klanie would know that you are with me,” she smiled patiently. It would take Klanie a couple of hours to calm down first, but once she did she would undoubtedly notice the way Colquan had said that sentence—she will see him. That was what Anivia signed to Colquan in Thoughtmark, and Colquan evidently did not have enough social sense to check his wording.

Colquan grunted in response. Anivia was clearly expecting him to have some reaction, but he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to react. In Colquan’s mind, Klanie was basically a witch. She seemed to know everything about everyone. In fact, Colquan was more surprised if she didn’t already know about him and Anivia.

...Him and Anivia.

As soon as these words formed in his mind, a sense of warmth arouse from within him, and promptly travelled to the part of him that was now painfully strained. He rolled his hip again and grunted in frustration.

Anivia chuckled. She should’ve foreseen how the emotion of embarrassment would be alien to him. On her part, she didn’t care if Klanie knew. In fact, it was probably good for her assistants to know these things, so they could better react in times of distress.

That could wait, however. She had a more urgent matter at hand.

Anivia also moved her hip and earned more sound from him. Then she asked in a whisper, “what is it that you want, Tribune?”

Colquan formed some nonsense syllables in response, then he said in a muffled voice, “you.”

“But I am already here, Tribune,” said Anivia. Colquan had noticed that she liked to call him Tribune. It was his rank, but Custodes were not a breed that really lived by ranks. They mostly referred to each other by name. The human soldiers observed ranks, but all of the Custodes were “lords” to them, and there was little need for them to distinguish one from another. In fact, the only other person who insisted on calling Colquan Tribune every time they spoke was...Guilliman.

Colquan grunted.

Anivia laughed again. “Alright,” she said indulgently, “I’ll let it slide this time. Next time you’ll need to tell me what you want in better words.”

Before he could process what she meant, Anivia’s hand pressed down. No, not just pressing. Her fingers found him through the dampened cloth, rubbing and stroking across his erection in a maddening pace. It felt different from before when there was only a uniform pressure from above. It felt so much better and he didn’t even think it was possible to feel better than before. He panted through opened mouth, rolling his hip erratically. It was not exactly helping the situation, but he couldn’t quite control himself. He just about managed to hold onto Anivia not to be thrown off by it.

Pleasure hit him like a tidal wave. For a moment there all he could see were stars dancing across his retina. All he could hear was the sound of his only blood pulsing in his veins.

Then, he felt a gentle kiss on the side of his neck, and his lord whispered into his veins—

“I’m glad I get to keep you.”