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egrets-not-regrets · 3 months ago

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Ramiel and Cedric: Atonement & Final Blessings

Of Fin and Feathers AU (merAstartes AU): Patrolling harpies lead Ramiel and Cedric to find their dying Primaris Black Templar brother.

Author's Note: TW death, grief, angst, and guilt.

This massive piece (just over 10,000 words) is a collaboration with @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan and @sleepyfan-blog. You guys are fantastic and it was fun to collab with both of you. Thank you for helping me write this story and get Cedric, Ramiel and Malachai's voice right. I don't have the heart to make this into separate chapters since it makes the most sense to keep it as one story.

This is another pretty emotionally heavy piece of writing, but I thought it is time that this mer-Astartes AU progress somewhat similarly to the Husbandry AU. Let's be honest, there is no way with Petras mentioned, that more Primaris Black Templars don't start showing up in this AU.

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

Ramiel was feeling a little melancholy, the memories of his past actions and mistakes are clawing at his mind. The memories haunted him, and caused him to wake early and try to leave the nest, wanting some fresher air, and try to not bother any of his family.

Malachai… he couldn’t help replaying the moment the light went out of his brother’s eyes in his mind. His poor brother, another victim of the Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras’ punishments. If only they found him sooner… would they be able to save him then?

He rubbed his face as he tried to stop crying, Astartes didn’t cry. That is one of the many things that Ramiel had been told and taught from a young age. His breathing was hiccuping a little as he recovered from the most wretched nightmare he’d awoken from, and it took Ramiel some time to slow and steady his breathing.

As quiet and stealthy as he tries to be- he didn’t notice Erriox waking up and watching him sneak away. Remembering how there are a couple of Black Templar Shoals in the nearby area brought up… rather unpleasant memories for Ramiel.

Claude and Jophiel told Cedric and Ramiel that they had mentioned, in passing, the name “Petras” to Erriox- not that they had explained much with the whole Gray Knight incident that had… rather taken precedents as well as monitoring the situation with the Black Templar shoal that changed their migration pattern.

He took in a couple of deep breaths and started his morning prayers to the God Emperor. Murmuring the words quietly and reverently. Doing his best to go through the motions and speak the words verbatim from his near perfect memory recall as he did.

Ramiel was in prayers for at least two hours- Cedric sometimes joined him during the latter half if he woke up early enough for it. He thanked the God Emperor for his second chance here on Ancient Terra… for however long it lasts.

He understood that the worship of the God Emperor upset some of the First Born Battle Brothers from before the Heresy- before the Daemon Primarchs revealed their true forms and they and their ill-made sons fell to Chaos and daemon-hood. Though Erriox and Lenora have not complained about it… yet.

Ramiel always tried to be quiet during his prayers so as to not bother his adoptive sort-of parents. It was easy enough to call Lenora “Mother”; but Erriox, while he is thankful that the First Born Iron Warrior treats them much kinder than the First Borns that they had been used to, he is hesitant to call Erriox anything less formal beyond “sir” or “cousin”.

Ramiel wondered if the Black Templar shoal travel change is due to himself and Cedric- that it’s because they are in the area and some of the shoals had heard of the apprentice-aged specialist Black Templar Astartes. Whether they knew that Ramiel and Cedric are Primaris or not, will become readily apparent in how they will be treated by them.

Ramiel suspects how the First Born brothers from around M42 would react to him and Cedric in one of two ways: cautious hope, or purge the abomination. He scratches and the patch of scales near his elbows and shudders. Some of the First Born Black Templars had taken very poorly to the Primaris Roll out… His Mentor being one of them- well his previous Mentor. Ramiel rubs at the scar on his chest, the one that had a reciprocal scar on his back.

The one that killed him and Malachai, the scars- well, he had many scars gifted to him by his mentor, physical and mental, but still. Those two were the worst. He hoped that The Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras was not among the shoals that have altered their migration path.

Part of Ramiel hoped that he is still in M42, and hoped that the cruel bastard didn’t come back to Ancient Terra. If he or Cedric wanted to join one of the Black Templar shoals: all they had to do was ask one of the Iron Warriors if they could contact them and then be picked up by a passing shoal in a few weeks to months. Or he could request assistance from the Hydra pod that was Bonded to Lana… but that might also come with a cost… likely one he’d rather not pay. But to be honest, he’d rather not place himself at the nonexistent mercy and under the power of First Born Black Templars again.

Not yet at least. He knew that what little training he has as a Judicar Primaris Space Marine Chaplain wasn’t enough, and for further training he had to go to a chapter specific Chaplain and hope they decided to take him on as an Apprentice.

He just… Would rather stay with Lenora and Erriox and Cedric and his fellow brother-cousins. And the Gannet Aunties and Cousins. While it's less migratory than he was used to, there was something to be said for being more stationary for a while. Bonds could be formed and maintained, learning of a different sort could happen.

He finished his prayers and turned to see Erriox watching him, “Hello sir, did you want some help with preparing the first meal?”

Ramiel and the others had helped hunt to gather foodstuffs for a few days, to help replenish their personal food stores. While the harpies are excellent hunters, they were wary of going to their normal hunting grounds with the lurking Black Templars nearby. Most tended to be highly temperamental and volatile, especially to those they deemed… non-human.

Ramiel wondered about his chapter’s attitude towards harpies and the other non-human and sentient species who are of and born on Terra. did that not make them just as holy as humans? Or at least, that’s how he viewed it. Not that he’s had a chance to really discuss this with anyone outside of Cedric, Roland, and Arnault.

He’s heard that sometimes humans are predated on by harpies or other species, but it wa either due to lack of resources or because the humans were stupid. Which- the galaxy is rough, and consumption of what is edible in hard times makes sense.

Also- if you stick your nose where you aren’t wanted, you shouldn’t be surprised that it gets bitten off at times. Still, his questions could only be answered by those he’d rather avoid for now. He ignored the voice in his head that hissed that he’s a yellow-bellied coward for not confronting the Black Templar shoals.

“No need, I noticed you started more than thirty minutes late for your usual morning prayer. Got something on your mind?” Erriox pointed out.

“I didn’t wake you and Mama, did I?” Ramiel worriedly asked.

The Iron Warrior mer glanced at his harpy mate sleeping in their nest, “No, and Lenora’s still asleep.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the ocean waters brighten in hue as the sun rose in the sky. Erriox turned to the Black Templar Scout, “Thinking about Malachai?” He asked, figuring that their brother’s second death on ancient Terra was what’s distracting his adopted son.

“… Yes.” Ramiel didn’t want to show vulnerability to the First Born, but he couldn’t stop seeing Malachai’s dead eyes staring back at him. It hurt. It hurt to see his brother in the state he was in. It hurt to know that it was his mentor, Honorable Chaplain Captain Petras, who killed him. If someone, if they had… Found him sooner… Maybe then, Malachai could’ve been saved. Ramiel looks over at Cedric, who was curled up in his nest, still asleep. His hearts squeezed painfully, he didn’t even want to think how this was affecting his apothecary brother.

“I know Lenora had told you boys that you shouldn’t blame yourselves.”

“I…” Ramiel wanted to say something, he hoped he didn’t offend his adoptive mother by his disbelieving reaction at the time. Erriox raised hand to interrupt him. Instinctively, Ramiel flinched and his mouth immediately snapped shut.

The Iron Warrior eyed him for a moment then sighed, “But we also understand that it is much easier said than done.”

“... Some of my actions had a hand in Malachai’s death,” Ramiel said, not quite looking at Erriox. “... My mentor- ah- what do you know about Black Templar rankings and practices?”

Erriox hummed, his tail swaying thoughtfully, “Not much, except that the Black Templars worship the Emperor of Mankind as a god and are aggressive to those considered heretical or corrupted by chaos.”

Ramiel nods and goes on to explain how Black Templar Neophytes become Apprentices, raised and trained by their mentor until they become a full battle brother. How important that bond between mentor and Apprentice is, how much power the older Templar has, and how good the bond can be. The Ideal mentor and student bond, how the mentor-student bond usually goes…. And what happens if the mentor is an abusive shit head. How little recourse the Apprentice has. It takes a bit, but he explained how shitty a mentor Petras was to him.

“When things go wrong in the mentor-student bond, usually the younger is to blame, unless there is overwhelming evidence that it's the mentor to blame… even then, socially… the Apprentice can become… at worst…. Excommunicated.” Ramiel said sorrowfully.

His elder cousin narrowed his eyes, “So it is easy to continue to be a shitty mentor, like this Petras, because the mentor holds that much power and seniority over the apprentices’ heads. And allowed to kill Primaris marines? What a fucking waste of resources.” He huffed. Though in his legion, they would’ve sent those they didn’t deem useful or trainable to do the shitty jobs no one else wanted or to the front lines as bullet shields, at least they contributed to the fighting effort in some way. Physical punishment was useful to a point, otherwise entirely wasteful if overdone. He asked “And how does this relate to you and Malachai?”

“Chaplains are allowed to decide and administer punishments,” Ramiel explained, “At least in the Black Templars they are. Including corporal punishments. One of… the areas in training that my mentor says that I… need to work on is administering… p-punishment to others.”

Ramiel flinched and curled in on himself unable to sustain eye contact for very long, “My m-mentor, previous Mentor Petras… was particularly harsh on administering physical correction. He had me… use an electro whip to help with administering punishment to Malachai. He didn’t allow me to stop until the numbers reached the upper hundreds.”

Erriox went quiet. Learning to be able to withstand pain was a normal part of training to become a fully fledged Astartes. Though he barely remembered what it was like training as a Neophyte and then Scout; he remembered a lot of heavy, back-breaking hard labor and shit jobs, under shittier conditions.

The way that Ramiel was reacting made it seem like this Petras was rather flagrant and excessive in his use of corporal punishment. Thank the throne that Ramiel was reasonable and relatively soft-hearted, if he was anything like his mentor, he would be extremely dangerous indeed.

“That sounds excessive. Did Malachai do something to justify the punishment?” Erriox asked.

Ramiel paused and thought about the Incident that happened, the reasons for why Malachai was punished so severely. He took in a deep breath and started, “Malachai refused to take the fall for the other group of Apprentices’ pranks and japes while he and four other Primaris Apprentices were visiting a fortress monastery at the same time that the normally-recruited aspirants were. The other group blamed the Primaris marines, and as Malachai was squad leader, he was the one to take the brunt of the punishment.”

Ramiel got lost in his head, and didn’t entirely realize it when after some gentle prompting from Erriox, the entire story of what happened came springing from his lip like a confession of his sins.

Malachai floated defiantly in front of Chaplain Petras, his arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at the older Marine. “As I said before, Chaplain-Captain, neither I nor my fellow Primaris Apprentices were responsible for the destruction of the training salles in the western training room of this fortress monastery. Nor were we the ones who set a bucket of honey and soap on top of the door out of the quartermaster’s office so that when the door was opened next, the contents of which were upended onto the unfortunate Brother’s head.”

Petras glowered up at Malachai, a low growl in his voice “You stand before me, defiant and with lies on your tongue. If you and your brothers were not to blame, who then were the culprits?”

Malachai shrugged a little, his stare still stony “That I cannot say. But we were not the only group of Apprentices visiting that particular Fortress monastery at that time. Have you asked them whether or not they are to blame for the destruction and that particular prank? Along with the other recent pranks that have occurred?”

Petras’ scowl got worse “So, not only do you refuse to take accountability for your actions, you would seek to lay blame on innocent Brothers? Ramiel! Get me my electro whips. I will have you weeping and pleading for the Emperor’s Mercy before I am through with you, you defiant abomination. The other group of apprentices are proper young Black Templars to be, picked from chapter worlds and trained in the ways of our chapter since they were taken as Aspirants. This mischief began after you and your fellow abominations appeared.”

Malachai knew for a fact that none of his fellow Primaris marines would dare do such things… And if they, for some reason, had completely taken leave of their senses and decided to pull such ridiculous grox-shit, they would have at least had the honor and the courage to own up to it, rather than cowering in the shadows and hoping that someone else would be punished for their misdeeds. “The pranks began when we arrived and stopped when we left, that is true. But no such pranks have occurred aboard The Sigismund before or after, sir. Which means the other group of Apprentices, or perhaps one or two of their number are possibly to blame, and they acted up specifically when they knew that there were more potential people to take the blame, sir.”

“Strip out of your armor and go down onto your back, Abomination! I will not tolerate any more of your lying slander any longer!” Petras growled.

Malachai looked briefly at the miserable looking Ramiel, before he huffed and rolled his eyes, sinking down, so that his back was exposed after removing his armor. “I am innocent, Chaplain Captain. So are my fellow apprentices. If you truly do seek the culprits, you will need to look elsewhere. But all three of us know what you really want to do. And it does not involve actual justice.”

Petras’ growl of fury reverberated through Malachai’s very soul, but no matter how long the other whipped and beat him, he would not break and admit to doing something he did not do. He would not admit that one of his fellow Primaris Brothers did something that he knew they did not do, either. Malachai did his best to stay still and not flinch as he was whipped and beaten until the pain became too much and he blacked out.

~~~~~~~~

Malachai opened his eyes and stared up into the night sky. He did not recognize these stars, nor what looked like the background haze of one of the arms of the galaxy. His wounds, raw, aching and bloody pulsed in time to his hearts beating, and his shallow, ragged breaths. There was a beautiful full, silvery moon in the sky as well, and he could hear the regular crashing and retreating whooshing sounds of waves breaking upon the sand of the… Wherever the fuck he was now.

He really hoped that he was alive - because the thought of being dead and having to deal with the agony of his wounds until they healed… Or for all of eternity, was a daunting and miserable idea that the young mer did not want to contemplate. There was a deep, daunting darkness that was eating at the edges of his vision. He felt dizzy and cold, on top of everything else. At least what he was laying against was soft, rather than the cold, hard metal of the deck of The Sigismund.

With a titanic effort of will, Malachai moved his head until he could see the surface beneath him. Fine grains of sand met his vision. He was… He had been left to die on a world? But they were within the warp, when he’d been punished harshly by that bastard. The sound of flapping wings caught his attention, and the young mer looked skyward once more, searching for the source of the sound. “Hello?” He called out as loudly as his damaged lungs and throat could manage “Is someone out there?” He had never been this alone before in his entire life… Malachai didn’t want to die alone, even on a world as pretty as this one.

He heard two pairs of feet landing in the sand near him.

“Hello, young one.” A feminine voice answered. Another, slightly younger voice swore some unknown curses at his condition, “His tail is bent strange. This is torture. Who did this to him?” She commented, outrage simmering in her voice. After a thought, she added, “He looks like cousin Ramiel.”

Ramiel? Cousin? They’re here too? A tiny spark of hope rose in Malachai’s chest. He squinted his eyes; his vision was starting to blur, but he could make out two humans or creatures who looked like humans covered in feathers. How do they know Ramiel?

There was a light tapping sound and the older voice spoke again, “Cedric, Ramiel, come to my location quickly. We may have found one of your brothers. He’s not in good shape.”

Malachai hears the faint but familiar sound of Cedric’s voice over the comm device the creature had, “What?! Please send your coordinates, we will be there soon.”

Another tap and the coordinates were sent. A second familiar voice, Ramiel, echoed, “Danke, Mama. We are coming.”

Mama? Wait, when did Cedric and Ramiel get a mother? Maybe he was mistaken? These might not be his brothers. Malachai shifted uncomfortably, praying silently to the God Emperor that they are not the Hydra imposters.

“I will send Leto to meet you part way. His injuries are extensive, so be prepared.”

“Can you ask what his name is?”

The creature looked at him expectantly, “What is your name, young one?”

He managed to cough out, “Malachai.”

“His name is Malachai.”

Two voices of confirmation. Finally, ‘Cedric’ said clearly, “Alright. See you soon. Tell Malachai to wait for us.”

“Leto, leave your set of healing potions here. Fly and find Ramiel and Cedric to meet them part way. They are patrolling the south end of the territory. Hurry.” The older feathered person urged. A rush of flapping announced Leto taking flight. There was a short pause then she spoke again, “Kallium, Erriox, get an apothecary to my location immediately. We found another Black Templar who’s badly injured. He looks young with a similar build to Ramiel.”

“Send us your location.” He could hear a deep, older voice this time.

Malachai hears another short tap as the creature sends their location to whoever it is out there. She keeps on mentioning Cedric and Ramiel. And clearly knows what Black Templars look like. Plus she mentioned getting an apothecary? Maybe it really is Cedric and Ramiel coming. Though he wasn’t sure he was able to wait that long. He feels so cold and exhausted.

“We’re on the north end, but we will be there soon. An apothecary is on his way.”

The creature winced as she assessed him from head to tail, worry growing as his eyes started to close. She sat by him, gently patting his cheek and pulling out a vial of pale blue-green liquid, “Malachai, fledgling, stay awake! You still need to wait for your brothers to get here, remember? This is a healing potion and some more in the pack. It should at least take some of the pain away, and hopefully heal some of your injuries. Will you let me give it to you?”

“Yes.” Malachai thought he had nothing to lose. It’ll be great if it works; if it doesn’t, then maybe it will send him to his grave faster. End his suffering. Hopefully.

The feathered creature gently tipped the vial into the corner of his mouth, letting the injured scout slowly swallow the liquid bit by bit. Warmth seeped into his body, waking his cells to start repairing the damage. Malachai keened and writhed as his nerves also woke up to register the pain.

Lenora swore and immediately gave him another vial, this time a powerful pain killer, “Malachai! You need to drink this one as well. This should ease your pain while your body is repairing itself.”

Malachai allowed her to pour its contents into his mouth, relaxing as he could feel the sharp spikes of pain drain away, allowing his mind to calmly think this time, “Thank you.” He sighed, then slowly blinked, “What are you? Cedric? Ramiel?”

Luckily, Lenora understood what he meant by his question. She gently stroked Malachai’s face, her heart breaking as she watched him turn towards her claw, close his eyes with a small smile. Like her other boys, it seemed like Malachai had not been treated with a kind hand either, “I am a harpy. My name is Lenora. Cedric and Ramiel are my adopted sons.”

“They got family? Where is here? They safe? S’cold…” Malachai forced the next few questions out. He was so curious about this Lenora who claimed to be his brothers’ adoptive mother.

The harpy looked at him worriedly as his speech started to slur. That was a high grade potion, and visually, it didn’t look like it had any effect. She frowned, that meant his internal injuries were extensive as well, the weaker healing potions would do more harm than good.

“Malachai,” she pulled out her last high grade healing potion and prompted him gently, glad that he was still somewhat alert, “take another potion, I suspect you suffered heavily internally.”

“Do I have to?” Malachai whined a little, remembering how painful it was the first time he ingested a similar looking potion.

Lenora smiled sadly at him, gently stroking his cheek, “Yes, my dear fledgling. You need to. Don’t you want to see Cedric and Ramiel? They are coming as quickly as they can. More help is coming. You need to survive to see them.”

“I don’t think it’s helping though.” The scout murmured, his voice fading out again.

Her reply was soft but resolute, “We have to try. Can you do that for them? Please Malachai. I want you to see your brothers.”

The harpy seemed so kind, and her touch was so gentle, and she only wanted the best for him. Malachai couldn’t help but lean into her. If Lenora was truly part of Ramiel and Cedric’s new family, he was assured that they were in good hands. If he survived, he would like to join them too.

“Alright.” Again, he let her feed him the healing potion, this time Lenora was quick to follow up with another vial of painkiller potion.

Malachai breathed in slow ragged breaths, “Thanks…you…” he could feel his body become slightly warmer.

Lenora spread her other wing to cover his chest and partially his tail, remembering his complaint about being cold. Worry etched onto her brow, she could feel the warmth of his body slowly slipping again. There weren't any high grade potions left. Even if there were, Lenora wasn’t sure if Malachai’s body would be able to handle another dose without additional supplements. She vowed to keep Malachai awake for as long as possible. It was the least she could do.

“What happened to you? Were you part of a large battle?” She asked. It was odd. His injuries didn’t match up from what could be typical injuries from battle. Like Leto said earlier, it looked like someone tortured this poor fledgling.

Malachai’s one hand gripped onto a few of her flight feathers tightly, “Nooo… we… accused wrongly. Punished. By… Petras.” He bared his teeth in anger.

That name sounded familiar. Lenora was sure she heard it from her boys at one point or another. But all this, just for punishment? This was concerning, this was even worse than what that Grey Knight did to Jophiel and Claude.

“Shitty first born. Shitty chaplain.” Malachai grumbled. He suddenly gasped, “Cedric! Ramiel! Are they alright? Are they safe?”

“Yes, dear fledgling. Your brothers. They are safe, they are well cared for.” Lenora cooed.

The scout mumbled, confused, “Fledgling? I am not a bird.”

The harpy chortled, “That’s a term to describe younglings in my language.”

Lenora looked fondly at Malachai who was pouting a little. He reminded her so much of her Ramiel.

“I’m not young. I’m… Almost four decades old!” The mer insisted.

“And I’m over five decades old, youngling.” She chuckled.

“Oh.” Malachai let out a weak sigh, he was young after all. He turned and rested his forehead against Lenora’s legs, wanting to sleep. He was so tired. In the next second, a clamor of voices sounded nearby and two large figures flew over to him, frantically calling his name.

“Malachai!”

Ramiel and Cedric were moving as fast as they could, once they heard about Lenora and Leto finding a wounded Black Templar while on patrol. Trying to push themselves to move even faster once they realized it was Malachai.

‘Please.’ Ramiel thinks, ‘Oh God Emperor- let us be able to save Malachai this time.’

Ramiel calls out to Malachai again, his hearts going to his stomach as his brother barely twitches a little when they had first called out to him. “Malachai!”

He very gently grabs one of the other’s hands Cedric is in Apothecary mode as he tries his best to patch up his brother, Ramiel helping by getting him tools and calling out to Malachai as the other cracked his blue eyes open to see them.

“Ah- you are… Here too.” Malachai slurs out.

“Keep awake,” Ramiel says, blinking tears from his eyes, “Live brother, please.”

Cedric turned to Lenora, “Danke, mutter. We can take over now. What healing potions did you give him” he asked.

“Two sets of high grade healing potion with a painkiller potion. It didn’t look like it’s done anything so I suspect he’s injured badly internally.” She replied, frowning.

“You’re right.” Cedric barely could muster a clear reply, unable to meet his mother’s gaze.

Lenora didn’t read too far into his troubling, almost knowing expression; she would ask him later. Saving Malachai took priority anyway. She stood and touched his shoulder, “I’ll give you boys space to work.” Lenora was moving out of their way when a tug on her wingtips made her look down. Her heart clenched when she saw Malachai still hanging on, “Malachai, dear, you can let go now. Cedric and Ramiel are here to help you.”

“Okay.” Malachai said, sounding a tad dejected. Lenora's gaze softened. She reached under one wing and yanked out one of her large secondary flight feathers and placed it in his hand, “It’s yours to keep. For good luck.”

“So soft…” Malachai mumbled, marveling at the feather in his hands.

“Danke.” Came his soft reply as his hand tightened around the feather. Lenora then joined Leto to the side, letting the boys work on their brother. A few minutes later, Kallium and Erriox arrived carrying a stretcher between them; along with Osteron, an Iron Warrior apothecary. He immediately flew to Cedric’s side.

“Apothecary Cedric. What’s the diagnosis?” Osteron asks.

Cedric reports the wounds that Malachai has, the words are from memory, as much as they are from assessing him again; he ends with, “... The high level healing potions aren’t working.”

“M’cold again.” Malachai announced to Cedric, blinking up at his brother. He knew that Ramiel was nearby, and as the cold grew deeper he fumbled with the hand not holding the soft feather for the Judiciar. “Wasn’t your fault, Rami.”

Ramiel flinched, moving closer, reaching out and gently holding Malachai’s weakly flailing hand in both of his “I… I don’t…” He really didn’t want to try to have this conversation in front of Osteron, who was quite likely listening closely to what they were saying.

“Not your fault… Petras’ bastardness. It’s not your fault, what he makes you do.” Malachai murmured earnestly, his bright blue eyes hazy and unfocused, though he was trying valiantly to actually look at Ramiel as he spoke. He paused for a moment, panting shallowly, out of breath before trying to find Cedric - who was desperately trying to keep him alive… Was that his mentor, lurking nearby? No… His coloration was off. But if Cedric trusted him near them, then so would Malachai. “Ced… Cedric. He’s gonna go after the others. I’m… I don’t think I’m gonna make it much further… N’ you gotta conserve the stuff you’ve got for them.”

“If… If you say so, Malachai.” Ramiel answered back, his voice wavering a little, and his eyes shining over-bright with tears that he refused to shed, at least not right now. He was focused on trying to calm and soothe Malachai while the Apothecaries attempted to save his life. He really hoped that they would be able to save him this time. “You’ve got to live, Malachai. You need to properly meet mama. I know that you’ll come to love her, as much as we do now.”

Malachai’s voice was a shade quieter when he replied, “I did meet her... Your mutter,… she’s nice.”

Cedric was listening closely to what Malachai had to say, even as he searched through his satchel of supplies. The high level healing potions weren’t working - probably because Malachai did not have enough energy to sustain the healing that he needed. His hands were rock steady, despite the tremors that were running through his body and the rapid flicking of his dorsal fin, and the way the tip of his tail whipped back and forth in high agitation. “The… The others are safe, Mal, I promise.”

“Really?” Malachai asked, a drowsy hopeful smile on his face. He was so cold, but the pain was going away again, which was really nice.

“Truly, Brother. They… Brother Apothecary Xonfried is teaching the… The rest of your squad basic first aid procedures, and will be going over that for the next few hours. He knows better than to try and interrupt the chief Apothecary while he’s teaching, at least. By the time they’re done, Petras should have calmed down.” Cedric gently lied. There was no way to succinctly explain where and when they were, especially as Malachai was clearly not processing anything very well, or he would have reacted poorly to the Iron Warrior Apothecary who’d arrived.

Malachai felt some of the tension that he’d managed to hold onto, through the pain, the cold and the slowly encroaching darkness, a smile warming his face as he let his eyes drift shut. Everything was blurry, anyways. “I’m so glad to hear that. Love you both.” His shallow breathing began to slow down, and his hearts were slowing down as well.

“No… No no no no! Not again! Please, Malachai, you need to stay awake! You need… You need to keep fighting, there’s… There’s got to be something we can do to help… Help you heal up!” Cedric growled, frantically dumping out the entire contents of his satchel, grabbing the most potent healing potion he had and lunging towards his brother who Wasn’t Going To Die Again, damn it!

A strong black and yellow striped hand grabbed at his wrist.

Cedric struggled and hissed, lunging at the wrist with teeth bared, about to bite when Osteron’s voice resounded in his ears “Stop, Cedric. Your brother is dead, and you know this as well as I do. Perhaps if he had appeared closer to one of the established bases, we might have been able to save him, but out here? He was too unstable to move, and we don’t have the resources necessary to stabilize him, much less save his life. Giving him that now would only prolong his suffering.”

A low, furious growl rumbled from Cedric’s chest, and his bright blue eyes darkened with rage as he struggled against the older Apothecary’s iron grip “How dare you! How dare you stop me from trying to save him! You just want to butcher him, take him apart piece by piece in order to see what the differences between Primaris and Firstborn marines are on a physical level!” Cedric lobbed the high grade healing potion at Ramiel, knowing the other would catch it, even as he continued to struggle and hiss at Osteron.

“You are allowing your grief to say things you know aren’t true, Cedric.” Osteron countered, voice low, almost monotone in his lack of open emotion, both in voice and face. Callous, unfeeling bastard traitor!

Ramiel caught the high level healing potion and checked Malachai over, his hearts sinking low. “Cedric…”

“What? Give him the potion! Open his mouth and tip it down his throat if he won’t open his eyes.” Cedric ordered, still thrashing and growling at Osteron, trying to escape the older Apothecary’s grip.

“His hearts have stopped beating, and he isn’t breathing anymore. He’s still warm, but… He’s gone.” Ramiel murmured, misery, guilt and sorrow warring for dominance in his hearts, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

All of the fight abruptly left Cedric and he goes limp in the older Apothecary’s grip, his shoulders starting to shake violently as tears began to stream down his face “I failed him… Again…”

Familiar rough hands clasped his upper arms, though he could barely hear Erriox’s stern quiet voice.

“Cedric… Look at me.”

Erriox nodded to Osteron to let go.

It took Cedric a moment or two to comply, wrenching his eyes away from his brother's cooling corpse to look at Erriox “Ye-yes?”

His elder cousin’s amber eyes looked back at him, steadfastness and understanding in his gaze, “I know it is hard for you to believe me, but you did not fail your brother. It is not your fault that Malachai arrived here in the shape he was in. It is not your fault that there are no resources here that could possibly stabilize and save Malachai in such a place. That, as well as where he appeared is out of your control. Do not lay that guilt on yourself.”

Cedric protested, “That last healing potion! That could’ve… It could’ve saved him!”

Erriox was patient as he refuted his argument, “Cedric. Think about it. Lenora gave Malachai two high grades already with painkillers. And still it did not seem to do anything. You know Osteron is correct. You are familiar with how healing potions work. You’ve seen how it has to draw on the body itself to heal the user’s wounds.”

“That last potion would have killed him. If not right there, then he would have died in transit.” The Iron Warrior apothecary added solemnly, “Considering pain killers were also used, that healing potion would have only caused him more suffering.”

“That’s not… I… Malachai could…” garbled words came out of his mouth as Cedric’s mind attempted to form sentences. He didn’t even register that it was him who was making the wails of grief, only the feeling of his broken heart being crushed by the heavy weight of knowing there were more of his brothers who were unjustly punished and beaten to near death out there somewhere. Malachai wasn’t the only one. If he couldn’t save Malachai, how would he be able to save the others if they found them?

Erriox wrapped his arms around his adopted son, letting the Primaris scout lean into him.

Cedric slowly leans into Erriox at first, before crumbling completely, allowing his papa to hold him as he weeps for Malachai. For his other brothers who had been badly beaten and he can’t help but wonder if any of the others have also appeared on Ancient Terra… But Unlike Malachai, they had not been found, or at least found by no one who would report their injuries, or their death… His hearts ache as he hides his face in one of Erriox’s shoulders, clinging tightly. Why was Malachai brought here, only to die again? It wasn’t fair!

Ramiel tensed uncomfortably when he heard his brother’s mournful cries, his own tears blurring his vision. If we could’ve found you earlier, Malachai… he let out a shaky breath. Roughly wiping his eyes with his hand, he readies himself to give Malachai his final rites. He still had his job to do.

Gentle hands patted his arm, making Ramiel look down at his harpy mother and cousin. He leans into her touch as Lenora wipes away more of his tears, “Mama…” he croaked, his throat feeling dry and swollen, choking the words that he wanted to voice.

“Ramiel… I’m sorry about Malachai…” his mother replied, her tone gentle and sad. Two sets of wings wrapped around him.

“I’m sorry for your loss, cousin.” Leto added.

Ramiel sank on his tail and tightly hugged both of them, “It’s all my fault! I should’ve stopped him. Malachai wouldn’t have died like this!” He wept. His hearts hurt so much.

“Stopped who, Fledgling?” Lenora asks as she hugs him back.

“... My mentor, back in M42, Chaplain Captain Petras,” Ramiel says, “.... He has… A rather bad temper, and tends to go too far while punishing Primaris marines… Sometimes I was able to convince him to let me take the punishment in my brother's place if I realized he was going too far…. But..”

Lenora’s claws pushed on the back of his head, pressing his forehead against hers, “Then it would have been you who would die in Malachai’s place.” Her voice was full of sorrow. When she released him, Ramiel saw a pained expression on his mother’s face, “Malachai told me how Petras beat him. Punishing him unjustly and excessively for something him and his squad were innocent of. If you took his place, Petras would not stay his hand or be any less heavy-handed in his punishment.”

Leto growled, angry at the injustice, “That Petras is a disgusting sadist! I bet he gets his rocks off beating young mers like that!”

“Leto… not at this time.” Lenora chided.

“But it’s not wrong! How could any sort of mentor deal this kind of punishment to the point that even his tail is broken in two places! We all know that is debilitating, especially for a merperson!” The young gannet harpy snarled, her feathers raised in agitation. Ramiel flinches at that, Leto isn’t wrong, Petras could be… deliberate in how far he went.

“... He’s a Chaplain,” Ramiel mumbles miserably, burying his face into his mother’s feathers in shame, “They are supposed to be the heart and soul of the pod. The Captain and officers the brain, the rest of the brothers the body, sword, shield, and armor.”

“A poisoned heart that is allowed to destroy the body does no one any good and should be replaced- “ she grumbles.

“You may be right, but that is enough, Leto. Ramiel doesn’t need to hear any more of that.” Lenora scolds the younger harpy.

Leto’s anger deflated when she saw how despondent her cousin became. She hugged him tightly and murmured, “I’m sorry, Ramiel.”

“S’okay.” Came his muffled reply.

Kalium’s voice cut through the air, “Not to hurry things along, but what do you need to do next, Ramiel?”

The young Judiciar straightened back up and wiped his eyes, feeling ashamed that the Iron Warrior mers had seen his moment of weakness, “We need to recover Malachai’s geneseed then conduct his final rites.”

Cedric held several jars for the geneseed retrieval, “There should be enough containers to retrieve all of Malachai’s organs. Osteron has more if needed.” He says quietly.

Lenora asked, “Ramiel, would you mind if we give our blessings to Malachai before you do so? It will be quick and then we will get out of your way.”

“Please do.” Malachai wouldn’t have minded anyways.

Lenora knelt by Malachai and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Son, may Skymother keep you. I pray that you will see your brothers again in your next life, under happier circumstances.” She smiled sadly, brushing away some stray hairs from his face. She then moved over for Leto.

The gannet harpy plucked one of her secondary flight feathers and placed it in Malachai’s hand. Like Lenora, she kissed his forehead, “May Stormbringer guide you and bring your perpetrator to justice so that he will be punished for his sins. I pray that your soul be vindicated. Rest in peace, Cousin.”

Ramiel was touched by their words. He thanked the two harpies before they left. Lenora nuzzled him, “None of this is your fault, Ramiel. Please remember that.”

He couldn’t really meet his adoptive mother’s gaze, “I… I will try.”

“I know.” Lenora patted his cheek before paying her farewells to the rest of the group. She then took off with Leto to return to the gannet roost.

Cedric aided Osteron in preparing the body, his hands going through the motions, pausing for a moment before saying “I am… Unsure how Iron Warriors deal with their dead, beyond removing geneseed and any viable organs for use… But amongst the Black Templars, we cremate them and forge their ashes into blades, which are given to Brothers they were close to. To allow them to continue their Eternal Crusade, despite having fallen in battle.”

Ramiel had finished creating the funeral pyre for Malachai to be put to rest within. He held a jar of the sacred oils of anointment in his hands which were only trembling a little. He helped Cedric and the others carry Malachai’s dead body over to and placed properly within the pyre, murmuring the final prayers given to Dead Brothers as he spread the oil across his brows, chest and tail, finishing with a slightly shaky “As… As the purifying flames of the God-Emperor consume the flesh and souls of the wicked, the xenos and the heretic, His cleansing flames purify the bodies and souls of his fallen warriors. We are kindling to fuel the fires of the Eternal Crusade. The ash of Malachai’s body is to be forged into Blades of Remembrance, to arm his still living brothers, so he may continue to Crusade at our sides.”

Cedric stared into the flames, the acrid scent of burning flesh, of the taste of failure was pungent in his nose and on his tongue. Still, he diligently tended to the fire until all that was left of Malachai was ash and chunks of his larger bones. “We’re going to need a forge, and additional supplies to forge his ashes into blades of Remembrance. We will need to trade for time in the former, and for the supplies for the latter.” He mumbled. He’s not sure what the Iron Warriors will ask of them in payment for this, but from… From his interactions with not-papa, he hopes that they will also be reasonable, rather than opportunistic in their demands.

He’s heard about a Salamander base, but that is allegedly weeks away, rather than the much-closer Steelix Base. Perhaps they would be willing to trade different kinds of materials? Cedric does have the specific weapons-pattern that the Blades of Remembrance are supposed to be forged into - and they are held as sacred by the Black Templar Chapter… Would the Iron Warriors ask for the weapons-pattern? His hearts churned uneasily at the thought. It would be sacrilegious to do so… But he’s already been consorting with members of a Traitor legion for some time now…

Ramiel stares into the flames, murmuring the prayers to guide Malachai’s soul into the Light of the God Emperor, and to join The Legion of the Damned -those brothers and cousins with souls Fiery and Stubborn enough to Serve, even in Death. He wonders how he and Cedric are going to trade and pay for the time in the Forge- and the specific items required to make the Blade of Remembrance. He’s got the oils, the prayers, and between him and Cedric should be able to make Proper blades, at least two.

Osteron and Kallium had left after Malachai’s body was laid onto the funeral pyre. They decided not to wait around as they had their own duties to tend to, leaving Erriox behind to accompany his two adopted Black Templar sons.

The Iron Warrior mer was admittedly curious about the funerary rituals of that chapter, though he was quite sure that the Emperor of Mankind was very much a human and not a God in his time. He heard Cedric’s quiet mumble. It was interesting that they forge their fallen brothers’ ashes into weaponry allowing their soul to continue the fight against xenos and chaos. Erriox thought it was a rather smart idea to reuse their Astartes brothers like that, pity the sons of Perturabo hadn’t thought of it first nor had the time to bring that to fruition. He contemplated Cedric’s words then said to him, “I won’t deny that I am interested in your weapons design, but your mother would be disappointed if the sanctity of the funerary ritual for Malachai was treated callously. Steelix Base is not solely composed of Iron Warriors. There is a Salamander cousin who oversees the forges at the base. I can negotiate with him unless you prefer to go to the Salamander base instesd.”

Hearing that, both Templars relaxed a little, “What would the price for that be?” Cedric warily asked.

Erriox shrugged, “Likely assistance time and materials, but you should ask Korbak yourselves and see if his requests are reasonable or not.”

Ramiel paused in his prayers, saying, “Speaking with Korbak would be most ideal since Steelix Base is much closer to home. If that doesn’t work then we’ll contact the Salamander base.”

“I will get in touch with Korbak then.” Erriox answered, quickly sending a vox message to his cousin.

Ramiel continues to murmur prayers as Cedric tends to the fire, churning the ashes, to ensure as much of Malachai’s body becomes ash. He coughs a little and closes his eyes briefly before opening them up again.

“Brother Malachai is… was strong of hearts, keen of mind, and zealous in his care of Our Brothers und devoted to Our Cause,” Ramiel begins, hoping his voice isn’t shaking or Cracking with grief. As the … highest ranking Chaplain (in training, and not even a decade into it, at that) it was his duty to start the Tales of Glory.

He continues on, embellishing (only a little bit) the Greatest Battle he knew of, that Malachai had participated in. Speaking of his valours and triumphs. Of the lessons he’d taught and of the might of his sword arm. After he finished telling all of the Tales of Battle that he knew that Malachai had participated in his voice had gone quiet. He was painfully aware that most brothers who fall can have hours of stories- of many battles.

Ramiel was frantically casting his mind about- they still have a pyre to tend to, ashes to take care of, but he doesn’t recall any more battles or stories that show the Valor, The Honor, the Righteous Fury of his brother (that … doesn’t involve Him or… less than kind First Born Loyalist older brothers and cousins).

“... I-if there are any others who have m-more stories to tell of Malachai,” Ramiel ends, feeling painfully inadequate and like he was failing his brother. Again. “You may speak of them now.”

Erriox noticed a silence after Ramiel prompts for more stories of Malachai. Not surprising, as Malachai died so young, not even four decades old. He inwardly cringes at the thought of how long and tedious such rituals would be for Black Templar Astartes more than three hundred years old. Perhaps he should say something, out of respect, and to support the two scoutlings. Lenora would be pleased for him to do so.

“I do not know Malachai, but Lenora and I would be glad to have him to join our family had he survived.” A sudden inspiration struck and Erriox continued, “Malachai, once you are reforged, always strike true to the heart of your enemies.”

Cedric quietly listened to Ramiel’s recitation, cognizant of which stories that his brother was choosing not to share - while they showed how brave and stalwart Malachai was, it would also reveal certain… Unfortunate at times inner workings of the chapter to outsiders… And the young Apothecary had been keenly aware of how furious Cousin Leto was over what had happened to poor Malachai… Should she hear the precise details as to why and how he’d gotten so badly injured… He wasn’t sure what she would attempt, but merAstartes were very powerful, and he did not want her badly beaten or killed for trying to avenge Malachai.

He cleared his throat a little, offering up “Malachai was an excellent leader, among his Brothers. He would do his best to ensure that those who were placed under his command were treated as well as he could manage, and would ensure that they were provisioned with everything they needed for missions.” There. That was both true and probably wouldn’t raise any alarm. Cedric hoped.

If Erriox was suspicious of anything, he certainly didn’t show it. He assisted them in collecting Malachai’s ashes. “Cedric, Ramiel, do you want to take Malachai’s remains home or to the base?” he asked.

Cedric glanced over at Ramiel, mulling over Erriox's question. “I think… I think I'd rather have his remains at home. At least until we've been able to negotiate for forge time and the supplies we need to create Blades of Remembrance. Rami, how do you feel?”

Ramiel looked down at the containers full of geneseed in his arms, “I… agree. Malachai should stay with us for the time being. If that’s fine with you, cousin.” They won’t have to worry about anybody potentially stealing Malachai’s geneseed and… it would be nice for Malachai to have a place at home with them and be part of their family for however long they could keep his remains. Erriox and Lenora didn’t mind that Catius kept Atlas’ remains at their nest for a long time, before he finally brought Atlas to the geneseed storage at the base. They wouldn’t mind if he and Cedric did the same for Malachai.

“That’s fine.” Erriox replied, “Let’s get Malachai home then.”

Ramiel ended with a voice full of regret, “I know that you, Malachai, and Mama told me that it’s not our fault, but it’s hard not to blame myself. I had beat him with the electro whip because of my mentor’s orders. Because he is a Primaris, he could take more physical punishment so Honorable Chaplain Petras wouldn’t allow me to stop. I could’ve stopped. I should’ve stopped.” he broke down, painfully reminding the Iron Warrior mer of how young he actually was.

Erriox quietly listened, grimacing from hearing Ramiel refer to his sadistic mentor as “Honorable Chaplain”. It left a bad taste in his mouth. And here he thought that the Iron Warriors were well trained due to trauma. Just how brainwashed were these Primaris marines? He sighed, then answered Ramiel, “You listened to your mentor, but he still beat Malachai until he died. Even if you did stop, he would beat Malachai worse and your brother’s fate would still remain the same. Perhaps worse, he forces you to watch or finish off your brother.”

“I… suppose.” his adopted son mumbled.

“Some guilt will live with us until the moment we die. No one can truly outrun it, we could only manage it.”

“Did Mama teach you to say that?” Ramiel side-eyed the firstborn Iron Warrior. It definitely sounded like something Lenora would say.

Checking over his shoulder to see his mate still sleeping, Erriox chuckled slightly, “Something like it.” He then asked him, “What do you know of the Fourth Legion’s history?”

Ramiel recited as his mind recalled the lessons of each legion’s history, “They said the Fourth was under the traitor Perturabo. They were logistically an effective fighting force specializing in siege warfare, but the primarch held little love for his sons. The first thing he did when he met the Iron Warriors was to decimate his own legion. Everything and everybody was a piece to be used, including daemons. They do not worship under any specific chaos god.“

“Enough.” Erriox frowned, shame creeping into the back of his mind. It was no secret that Perturabo hated his sons. They were never good enough, effective enough. However, it was one thing to know the truth himself, but to hear it spoken aloud from someone else’s mouth was disconcerting at best.

Ramiel flinched, noticing Erriox’s darkened expression, “Did I say something wrong?” He asked nervously.

The Iron Warrior mer let out a sigh and gestured Ramiel to follow him, “No. Come with me. I want to show you something.”

The Black Templar mer followed his firstborn cousin to the work table and watched as Erriox took a small wooden box from the shelf above it.

“What is it?” Cedric’s sleep-muddled voice asked, “Morning.” He added when the other two turned to look at him.

“Morning, bruder. I am… speaking with Erroix, you can go back to sleep if you’d like to, Cedric,” Ramiel says.

Cedric shook his head and floated over to the work table, “I want to see what you’re looking at too.”

It was a somewhat plain box with symbols carved along the edges of the lid, closed shut with a simple latch and pin. Ramiel was curious to see what’s in the box- noticing the way Erriox grabs it, solemn and holding it like it contains something painful, or at least holds tokens of painful memories.

Inside were several talons, large and small, each twined with a few feathers and beads carved from seaglass and shells in aesthetically pleasing bundles. There were also small bunches of feathers tied together in a similar fashion. Three large grey scales likely from another Iron Warrior mer and a small shard of bright blue ceramite armor laid among the talons and feathers.

Cedric quickly blinked the sleep from his eyes, “Is that from Atlas’ armor?” He asked.

Erriox confirmed his identification, “Yes, there were several more pieces we had to remove from Atlas’ armor so Catius decided to keep one here.”

Ramiel quickly understood what the box was. He could smell the similarities between the talon bundles and his harpy mother, “These are the remains of those who have died…” he said softly. He noticed there were a fair number of the talon and feather bundles, which worried his hearts with the thought of how fragile and short his Mama’s life was compared to theirs. Ramiel didn’t dare voice that thought though, he didn’t want to further worry Cedric and Erriox.

The three grey scales caught Ramiel’s eyes. Glancing over to Cedric, he noticed his eyes were pinned on the dried blood on the scales.

“Are they from your brother?” He asked Erriox carefully, nervous about offending him with his question.

The Iron Warrior mer took one of the scales out, looking at it with a nostalgic expression, “These scales belonged to my brother and mentor, Rannok. You both know about the decimation of the Fourth.” He looked at the two Scoutlings who nodded, “As a legion, we had to follow as our genefather decreed, not following his orders was out of the question. We were ordered to beat the chosen brothers to death using our bare claws. My brother, Rannok, was unlucky enough to draw the short straw in our group. I took part in killing him. He did not die a quick death.” Erriox became solemn as he put the scale back, “This was all I could recover from him.”

Erriox looked at his boys, an almost pained expression on his face. It was the first time they’ve seen their scout sergeant/ paternal figure lose his stoic demeanor like this, “You are not alone in feeling this way. The longer you live, the more regret and guilt you will endure, it’s a matter of how well you can move on from it with the lessons you’ve learned.” He let out a bitter huff, “Rannok was a good mentor and a close brother of mine and I helped tear him apart. Even now, there are times I wonder what would happen if I protested, or took his place.”

Both Scoutlings were stunned into silence. They were taught that the traitorous Fourth were callous and unfeeling of their own. Always thinking on how someone could be of use and disposed of if not useful. Not once had they thought that the Iron Warriors would have a sense of brotherhood among them. Not once had they thought about how similar or even worse punishments the other legion went through. They saw that Rannok’s death still affected their Firstborn cousin; this was the first time Erriox openly said anything to them about it. Hearing that story, Ramiel, while still feeling guilty over Malachai, understood what his elder cousin was trying to say and was glad that he was not alone.

A gentle voice interrupted their thoughts, “Then I don’t think I would have met you in this universe at this time as you are, perhaps.” Lenora sidled in under Erriox’s arm, leaning relaxed against his torso with one wing wrapped around his back.

“Guten morgen, Mama/Mutter.” The Scoutlings greeted her.

“Morning, love.” Erriox purred as he shared a loving kiss with his mate.

“Morning, love.” Lenora replied warmly and nuzzled him. She then turned to Cedric and Ramiel with a kind smile, “Morning, boys. I see Erriox has shown you the box with the remains of our loved ones.”

“Yes, Mama.” Ramiel answered.

“This box is a way to show that our loved ones, who passed on, still have a place in our hearts and in our home.” Lenora explained, “If you have a part of Malachai you wish to keep here, you can. Like all of your brothers, both of you have access to this box whenever you wish since you are part of our family.”

Cedric and Ramiel felt touched by their adoptive mother’s words. It’s such a beautiful and sincere gesture and it reminded them of the relics that their chapter carried with them. Cedric looked at Ramiel, who nodded. He swam over to his nest and returned holding a small bag containing some of Malachai’s remaining bone shards. Putting the bag into the box, Cedric said, “Malachai, you’re home now. You’re safe here with Rami and I, the rest of our Brothers, and Mama and Papa. Once you’re reforged, we’ll take you to see brother Roland and Arnault and their bonded. You would like them. They are very kind.” Though his hearts remained heavy, knowing a piece of Malachai can remain at home with them, lightened the sorrowful burden.

“Mama, may I give a blessing for them?” Ramiel asked, not wanting to overstep cultural boundaries and disrespect his mother. She smiled at him, “Of course you can.”

Ramiel smiled back, “Danke.” He poured a little holy oil onto his finger and swiped the lip of the box and then its lid, then spoke reverently, “God-Emperor grant us your blessing. Protect these kind souls who have taken in our brother Malachai. May you always keep them in your golden light.”

“Thank you for your blessing, Ramiel. That was lovely of you to say that.” Lenora said as soon as he was done.

Both her and Erriox were slightly taken aback when the two Black Templar Scoutlings suddenly hugged them together.

“Danke. Thank you, Mama, Papa, for allowing Malachai to stay here with us and join your family.” Cedric said in his quiet whisper-purr.

Ramiel lifted up Lenora so he could nuzzle both his adoptive parents more easily, “Thank you for all the help you’ve given us to take care of Malachai. Danke, thank you for everything.”

Lenora and Erriox shared a quick, but fond smile with one another before replying to their adopted sons, “You will always have our support.”

“You are part of our family, we’re here to help you when you need us."

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #adeptus astartes #of fin and feathers au #black templars #iron warriors #oc: cedric #oc: ramiel #oc: malachai #oc: erriox #oc: lenora

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