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nereidof40k · 18 hours ago

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Damn it, Leandros needs to be visited by Night Lords.

How can I sleep tonight after this?

Dread

Pairing: Demetrian Titus x FemOC (Formerly FemReader)

Warnings: stalking, abduction

Description: Someone is watching Sera from the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.

I hope you guys like some old-fashioned horror movie shenanigans. Remember to check out the previous chapters of this series on my Masterlist.

(And feel free to ask if you'd like to be added to/removed from the Taglist.)

The lumens flickered in time with your heartbeat. Your breath came in quick pants as you made your way down the deserted corridor.

Where is everyone?

It was still the middle of the day cycle. You should be in the midst of a crowd. Cleaning crews pushing brooms. Techpriests on their way to perform interminable Rites of Repair. Fellow medicae running errands for the Lord Apothecaries.

But the corridor stretched ahead of you, empty and silent. Except for….

Footsteps.

Ceramite boots on metal flooring, the sound as familiar to you as the patter of your own sandals. You whipped around, searching for the source of the heavy thuds.

“Lord Chairon? Lord Gadriel?”

The corridor behind you remained empty and dim, your protectors nowhere to be seen. A sudden chill sent shivers across your skin.

Perhaps….

You whispered the name in desperate hope. “Demetrian?”

“No.”

Iron-hard fingers dug into your hair, wrenching your head back until you stared into the fiery lenses of a skull helm.

You screamed.

***

“Sera! Wake up!”

Your eyes snapped open. Vesta leaned over your cot, hands shaking your shoulders. Her freckles stood out even more vividly than usual against her white face. You clutched at her sleeping robe.

“Don’t let him take me! Don’t-”

Thin arms wrapped around you. “Shhhh, Sera. You’re all right.”

Slowly, your surroundings came into focus. A room, far smaller than the quarters you shared with Titus. A converted storage alcove, really, just off the main Apothecarion. You remembered Vesta telling you Lord Callistus had requisitioned it especially for her.

Your cot butted right up against your friend’s, halving the already minimal floor space. Vesta could kneel on her mattress and still lean over yours.

“Sera? Please say something.”

You gasped for breath. “I… I’m fine, Vesta.”

Your friend narrowed her eyes. “Liar.”

“Vesta-”

“You’ve been having these nightmares for weeks, Sera! Are you finally going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You bit your lip.

Maybe I should tell her. I can trust her.

An image of bloodred lenses in a skull helmet flooded your mind. You shivered.

Tell her what, fool? That the Honored Lord Chaplain of the Ultramarines 4th Company haunts both your waking and sleeping hours?

You shook your head. “It’s just… just stress, Ves. I worry for Dem- for Lord Titus.”

Demetrian.

Your heart ached and you clutched at the necklace you never removed.

Where are you? Are you safe? Please come home. I need you!

You sniffled like a child.

Vesta didn’t look convinced, but her eyes softened. “Oh, Sera.”

Her arms tightened around your torso, pulling you into an embrace. “He’ll be back. He won the Laurels, for the Emperor’s sake! What could defeat such a warrior?”

You drew comfort from your best friend’s undimmed optimism. You needed it. With each passing week, your own seemed to fade a little more. You missed your lover’s touch, his strength, the safety you felt in his arms. Nothing could harm you with him near.

Please, Emperor, please! Protect him!

You buried your face in Vesta’s shoulder.

And protect me.

***

“Are you still asleep, girl?”

Lord Callistus’s growl snapped you out of your haze. Looking down, you realized you’d mislabeled an entire row of medicines. Your face burned.

“I’m so sorry-”

“Don’t bark at her, Uncle!” Vesta placed her hands on her slim hips and glared up at the towering Astartes.

You tensed, expecting reprisals. But none came. Instead, the Apothecary’s granite face seemed to soften.

“I am no Space Wolf, child. I do not bark.”

“You could’ve fooled me!” Vesta’s eyes glinted with mischief. “You growl like an old canine.”

“Impertinent creature.” He huffed. “Why do I tolerate you?”

“Because you like me.”

Another huff. “See this fixed before I regret taking on a personal serf to perform a medica’s tasks.” Turning away, he stomped off, muttering under his breath.

“I do not bark.”

Vesta sighed and came to stand beside you. “Are you all right?”

You dodged the question. “Three weeks, and I still can barely believe what he lets you get away with, Ves.”

She grinned. “He practically raised me, remember? And, as I said, he likes me. Even if it doesn’t seem like it sometimes. Besides,” she began replacing labels, “I only speak like that when no other Astartes are present.”

You could understand that. Again, thoughts of Demetrian pushed into your mind. It was getting harder and harder to push them out again.

A yawn all but cracked your jaw.

“You could ask him for something to help you sleep, you know.”

“Oh no.” You helped Vesta correct your mistakes. “He may like you, but I think I’m a different matter entirely.”

She handed you another vial. “Don’t say that! You’ve been doing a wonderful job here. And you’d know it if he didn’t like you, trust me.”

You arched an eyebrow.

She smiled. “The last medica who truly angered him spent three days and nights scrubbing the Apothecarion with a brush the size of my thumb before being reassigned to Sanitation.”

“Throne! Vesta, if that is supposed to make me feel better-”

“He’d been hoarding pain suppressants and making Guardsmen trade… favors for them.”

“Oh.” You remembered the bloodied, desperate Cadians you’d treated during the Battle of Demerium. “Bastard.”

“Mmmhmm.” Your friend returned her attention to the vials. “I’ve only seen Uncle lose his temper like that once before, when this one Ultramarine Scout shook me after I dared suggest he- but that’s another story.”

You smiled. “You’re very fortunate, Ves.”

“We both are.” Vesta set down the final vial and stretched. “There, all fixed. And just in time for the mid-cycle meal.”

You froze.

A meal. In the Refectory. Five decks away, down the corridors. The long, dim corridors full of shadowed alcoves, sharp corners, flickering lumens, and half-dead candles. The echoes of booted feet-

“Sera?”

You shook yourself. “I… I’m not very hungry, Ves.”

“How can you not be hungry?! You barely touched your ration bar this morning!” She placed the back of her hand against your forehead. “You don’t feel feverish. And I know it’s not that time of the month yet. Sera, please, tell me what’s-”

The Apothecarion door slid open, and a booming voice filled the chamber.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Brother Chairon’s smiling visage drained the tension from your body. “Would you care to join me for a meal?”

***

Chairon listened to the medica chatter on and on, glad Gadriel had decided to forego food in favor of another round in the sparring cages. The Sergeant had made no secret of his distaste for the bubbly female.

“The Lieutenant may have asked us to watch over his personal serf, but that does not mean I must play nursemaid to every gibbering annoyance she associates with!”

“Careful, brother.” Chairon had chuckled. “Rumor holds that Apothecary Callistus guards that one with all the ferocity of a mother ursus.”

“The Emperor only knows why.”

He, for one, did not mind the chatter. It was… pleasant to be treated with informality. Refreshing.

Especially from such a pretty little thing.

The Ultramarine blinked at the intrusive thought.

“Sera,” the medica turned to her companion, “would you please eat? You’re going to need your strength if Lord Callistus assigns another round of supply categorization.”

Chairon turned his attention back to his charge, chastising himself for becoming distracted. Did she look thinner than she had a week ago? The skin under her eyes a few shades darker?

He frowned. Once, she had stood out amongst the other serfs. A picture of health unusual aboard the battle barge.

“Are you ill?”

“No, my lord.”

“I have given you leave to call me by name, little one.”

Did her smile seem forced?

Chairon cursed his uncertainty. He prided himself on recognizing baseline emotions better than some of his more detached brethren.

“I promise I am fine, Brother Chairon.”

The medica, Vesta, glanced his way. He read concern in her eyes as well.

Sera seemed to observe the shared glance. “Is there any news of Lord Titus?”

Ah, an explanation.

He gave her a pitying look. “You ask me or Gadriel the same question each time we meet, little one. I swore I would inform you as soon as I heard anything.”

She looked away, picking at the food on her plate. “Forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. The Lieutenant is blessed to have such a loyal attendant.” Another frown. “Though I confess I am still uncertain why you were not permitted to accompany him.”

She tensed, but said nothing. He studied her, a memory striking him. Just after the Lieutenant’s departure. Finding his serf cornered against a railing by none other than….

“Little one, when the Chaplain spoke to you-”

She stood. “Maybe I am feeling a bit unwell. With your permission, my lord, I think I’ll return to the Apothecarion.”

He stood as well. “I will accompany you.”

“Please, my lord!” She looked almost panicked. “I know my Lord Titus requested you watch over me in his absence, but I cannot bear the thought of being a burden. I can make my own way.”

With a hurried bow, she all but fled the Refectory.

Chairon remained standing, torn as to whether or not to follow. Vesta moved next to him.

“Please don’t be angry with Sera, Brother Chairon. She hasn’t been sleeping well.”

His eyes remained fixed on the door she’d run through. “Oh?”

“More often than not now, I awaken to her screaming. And just last night she grasped me with fingers like ice and said-” She hesitated.

He looked down at her. “What did she say, Medica?”

Vesta bit her lip. “She said, ‘Don’t let him take me.’”

***

You didn’t know how long you’d been running before you realized none of the corridors looked familiar.

I must have made a wrong turn at the….

You couldn’t remember.

“Warp damn it!”

Pressing yourself into a shrine alcove, you covered your face with your hands. Your eyes burned. Your heart threatened to beat its way out of your chest. Tears wet your fingers before you even realized you’d started crying.

I am so tired. So tired.

Perhaps that was the problem. Insomnia could cause hallucinations, you knew. It was a common enough complaint amongst serfs who’d worked days without rest.

Yes, that’s it.

Your anxiety about Demetrian robbed you of sleep, and therefore of rationality. There were no eyes in the dark. No skulls watching from empty doorways. No following footsteps-

Thud.

Your heart stopped.

Looking up, you realized you stood alone in the corridor. The lumens flickered. The empty passage seemed to stretch on and on in either direction.

“Emperor….” You whimpered, torn between the urge to flee and the urge to hide.

No. No no no! It’s not real. It’s not-

Thud.

At one end of the corridor, the lumens crackled and went out entirely. You tried to tear your eyes away from the patch of darkness, but couldn’t. Something stood there. A darker silhouette in the shadows.

You couldn’t breathe.

The red lenses appeared first. Then the skull helmet. The figure you’d seen out of the corner of your eye for weeks now. Watching. Always watching.

You’d tried to ignore him, following Titus’s command to stay away. But the sick dread of being stalked day after day wore upon your nerves until you felt on the verge of madness. He invaded your dreams. Stole your appetite.

You clutched at the golden laurel leaf around your neck.

“Please….”

He stepped toward you.

You ran.

You ran as you hadn’t run since the day you fled your village, as a prey animal runs. Corridors and doorways flew past. Sobs wracked your straining lungs.

And still the footsteps followed. Closer. Closer!

Tears blinded you. You stretched your arms out, praying for something, anything-

Armored hands caught your shoulders.

“No!”

“Calm yourself, woman!”

You knew that voice. Through blurred eyes, you looked up into Sergeant Gadriel’s perpetually annoyed expression.

His scowl deepened as he stared down at you. “What in the Emperor’s name are you doing here?”

Where am I? How far did I run? Where is-?

With a choked cry, you twisted in the Sergeant’s grasp, staring over your shoulder to see-

No one.

“Woman?” The Sergeant’s voice sounded more confused than angry. “What is-”

“Don’t let him take me! Don’t… don’t let him….”

Your world spun and went black.

***

Voices filtered slowly through to your semi-conscious mind.

“... sure she has not told you anything, Vesta?”

“No, Unc- Lord Callistus.”

“Is the Lieutenant’s serf a madwoman, Brother Apothecary?”

“I will not believe it, Gadriel. The little one is terrified of something, or someone. Which means we are failing in our promise.”

“We have done our duty, Chairon! It is not our fault if she is mentally deficient in some-”

“Shut up, both of you!”

Footsteps. An armored hand against your shoulder.

“It is all right now, girl.” Lord Callistus’s voice sounded more gentle than you’d ever heard it. “Come back. You are safe.”

Your eyes flickered open. You lay on a bed in the Apothecary. You tried to rise, only for a fierce pain in your head to drive you back down.

The Apothecary tsked. “Remain still. You struck your head when you fell.”

Glancing around the room, you saw Chairon glare at Gadriel, who looked affronted.

“I did not expect her to collapse in front of me!”

“Are your reflexes so poor that you could not-”

“I told you both to be silent!” The Apothecary glared at the younger Astartes. “Vesta, fetch me a mild sedative.”

Your friend complied, but not before shooting you a worried glance.

You tried to speak, to reassure her, but found you could not summon the energy.

How did I get here? Did I have another nightmare?

All your memories seemed so unreal.

The Apothecary looked you over. “Vitals are stable, though your heart rate is elevated beyond what is normal for a baseline.” He humphed. “And you have lost a concerning amount of weight since your reassignment here.”

“Are you overworking her, Apothecary?” Chairon frowned.

Callistus turned toward him, expression stormy. “Do I look like a Black Templar, boy? It is not, nor will it ever be, my custom to abuse my medicae. Such practices are a waste of resources, as are those who employ them.”

Gadriel spoke again. “So, my question stands. Is she unbalanced in some way?”

A long silence.

I am not mad. I’m not! Am I?

Tears threatened again.

“She is a relatively new serf, yes? Such reactions are not unheard of for those not born and bred to this life. And personal serfs are a different breed. Her separation from her Lord only added to her turmoil.” Callistus glanced at you and must have seen the fear in your expression. “But, this one has proved herself strong before now, and I believe it will pass in time.”

You met the Apothecary’s eyes.

Thank you.

A corner of his mouth tipped upward. The closest thing you’d ever seen to a smile from the grim veteran.

Vesta returned with a syringe. Callistus nodded to her.

“Inject the sedative. What she needs most is rest.” A snort. “After the last campaign, most of the serfs on this vessel need rest. I am surprised we have not seen more breakdowns.”

His words comforted you.

Rest, yes. I just need to rest.

Vesta pressed the needle into a vein on your arm with practiced skill. “It’ll be alright, Sera. Sleep now.”

As your eyes closed, you heard Gadriel’s voice once more. “She… acted as though someone pursued her. And, now that I think of it, for a moment I swore I saw the Ch-” His voice stopped.

“What, brother?” Chairon asked.

“No. It is irrational.”

Wait… who… who did you… wait….

But you could not fight the sedative.

***

You awoke in the middle of the night cycle, curled on your side, heartbeat pounding in your ears. All was dark.

That’s not right. The candles. Who snuffed the candles?

Thud.

You whimpered.

No. I’m supposed to be safe here.

Another footstep. Behind you. Closer.

This is another nightmare.

Closer.

Wake up. Wake up!

Breathing. Not your own.

“Lord Apothecary?” You forced the words through a bone-dry throat.

No reply. You wanted to roll over, to see. But terror froze you in place.

“Vesta?”

The breathing came from directly above you, now. You squeezed your eyes shut, your hand automatically seeking the laurel leaf around your neck.

“Demetrian… help me-”

A gauntlet slammed down over your lower face, fingers biting into your flesh. You tasted blood. You tried to shriek, to struggle. But your assailant’s weight held you immobile.

A deep, dark chuckle.

“Finally.”

The Chaplain carried you into the darkness.

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#warhammer 40k #space marines #ultramarines #space marine x oc #demetrian titus #demetrian titus x oc #chairon #gadriel #the damocles brothers tried their best #warhammer 40k oc

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nereidof40k · 3 days ago

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She is absolutely going to find out soon.

The part where Rushal threatens to kick a sun eating wolf in the head cracks me up. Alastor dear, you just threatened to kick Fenrir in the head. You know, the wolf who is supposed to eat the sun at Ragnarok. You are much smaller than the sun.

Today is Husbandry day. It’s not as long as yesterday’s, but hopefully you enjoy. It’s a report from Sevatar and Rushal, I will see if I write an interlude.

Mind you, neither of them is entirely sober.

I’m not 100% happy, but I need to stop tweaking this and post.

I thought I left reports behind when I came here. The saying really should be “Nothing is certain except death and paperwork.” But my lady needs her rest.

I would almost feel sorry for those fighting ring fuckheads if they weren’t such patronizing, self important pricks. That was the most one sided beatdown I have seen. And that’s coming from the former First Captain of the Eighth.

If I cared a damn about the Legion, I might bother to tell them a bunch of farmers and grandmothers are better at preparing for war than them. Eh.

Classic case of hurry up and wait. It took those shits forever to actually get here. Probably too stupid to navigate their way down a straight road. (Possible noble ancestors?)

But once they got here, they started screaming threats. I’ll give them 7/10 for effort. 2/10 for content.

I was very glad to have my helmet. The barrage that met them was absolutely blinding. I doubt it was only gunfire. Especially after one particularly arrogant son of a pig stepped past the border between the village and the surrounding area. And caught fire. Yes. Burning like he had been doused in promethium first. Fucker charged ahead, trying to take any of us down with him. Russ would be impressed.

Who are these people we live among? I have seen baselines fight, and this was not it.

Too fast, too stealthy, and I swear I saw claws, fangs and tails.

Your average grandma definitely doesn’t leap over a man’s head, landing on his back, then twists his head off like opening a beer.

Nor do I think farm boys can grab a man’s gun and bend it until it points at the shooter.

But I’m frankly not complaining. Especially with the respectful way these people have treated us. Fuck, they’re actually curious about Nostramo. Language, culture, food, stories.

My beloved sun definitely is not a baseline either. I saw how she was fighting, and it was incredible. I now know what beauty is.

Thankfully we managed to keep Altani out of the fighting. I was younger than her when I killed my first man, but it’s different when it’s her. I want her to be able to retain that innocence and sweetness for as long as possible.

The victory feast was memorable. Even if my beloved was rather exhausted. Sitting there with her leaning against my side, exchanging tales new and old. I told them why I am called the Prince of Crows, and they actually loved it. Some of the Grandmothers offered to help me with my gifts. Is this what brotherhood and family actually should be like? Why do they bother with me? With a weird Nostraman gutter brat? Why?

I guess the ale got to my head, this stuff is strong.

Raven, want to add anything? I’m going to bed to cuddle my Sun.

=====

He’s right, you know. I was wondering if this is a retirement community for monsters or something. No wonder we fit right in. I’m not sure they really needed us, but they were happy to have us. I can understand his sentiment about fitting in. My Lord didn’t give a shit about me and my brothers. So I admit it. I cried a little.

The fighting ring assholes are dealt with. Permanently. The authorities would complain, but they couldn’t keep them locked up, so fuck them.

My Terran brothers would have been impressed. There’s a couple Raven Guard in the area, but they’re from Deliverance, so I get along better with the baselines. And isn’t that sad?

I do hope that ale they served doesn’t attract any Space Wolves. I’m getting rather fond of the peace and quiet. So if I hear howling, it’s boot to the head time. Particularly if it’s that wolf they told stories about. No sun eating furballs here, thank you.

Altani is giggling and telling me to go to bed. Splendid idea. She needs to go back to bed herself. We did make sure she got a good night story or three. We’re not savages.

Altani hits the post button, since he was about to forget. Raven then picks her up and carries her back to bed.

#warhammer 40k #space marines #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #jago sevatarion #alastor rushal #altani shedu #rushal no #warhammer 40k oc

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