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aqua-the-smiter · 5 months ago

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Healing takes a long, long time. Who knows. It may never come. Cato Sicarius x female reader you are his only solace PART 3, APPARENTLY. I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED. Divider by @squishyowl . I'm sorry I keep @ing you but Cato is living rent fucking free in my head Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z53F9I-93M

Fall with me, come on and fall with me, into the dark and scary hole inside the bottom of the sea ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Things weren't perfect. But they seemed to be better, at least. Even if only marginally.

Cato was happier than you'd ever seen him in the weeks since you got together. At least, when he was with you. He was a surprisingly affectionate man once you got past his shell. He was still lonely, still in pain, but he had you, and he loved you. And he wasn't ashamed to show it either.

Some Ultramarines congratulated him on it. A few seemed a little envious. That one ambassador that Cato had had less pleasant dealings had glared at you like you insulted her mother. Overall though, the reaction was positive. Even Lord Guilliman seemed pleased, laying a hand on Cato's shoulder.

Astartes getting girlfriends wasn't common, but it wasn't entirely unheard of either. Most kept quiet about it. While he didn't trumpet from the rooftops about you, he wasn't afraid to kiss you or let you kiss him in public when you accompanied him, or allow you to hold his hand, or slip your hand around his elbow (as best you could) so the two of you could walk arm and arm together.

And flowers. You loved flowers, and every day when he came to you he'd present you with some, weaving them into your hair or tucking them behind your ears. You got the impression he enjoyed finding and giving them to you as much as you enjoyed receiving them, and you were filling out a whole book full of pressed and dried blooms.

He even had a pet name for you. Peahen, after the female of the numerous peafowl that inhabited Macragge. They had been brought over by early settlers and found a very comfortable niche for themselves. The males were especially pretty, with cobalt blue bodies and magnificent, long tails of green and iridescent eye spots that could spread out into a huge fan of feathers. The females were less showy, with plain brown and white feathers, but even they had a splash of bright blue and green on their necks. And the chicks were absolutely adorable.

The name always made you giggle. You supposed Cato was a like a peacock with his bright blue armor and plumed helmet. Your peacock.

For your part, you made up for things by being equally as affectionate as possible. It was pretty clear that he needed it. Giving it to him as freely as he did to you. You would let him scoop you up and carry you around just because he felt like doing it, or rest his head in your lap when he was particularly frustrated or put out. Stroking his hair, whispering to him softly that things would be just fine. He didn't seem like he believed it, but it made him happy to hear from you.

But...it was still pretty clear he wasn't doing well, and that irritated you to no end. You wanted to help him. You want to scream at everyone who made him feel like he had nobody to talk to about his troubles. And you would, too. You felt fiercely protective of him.

It was like he was in a hole. A deep, dark pit in his own head that he couldn't climb out of. Or he'd just gotten used to sitting in the dirt. Sometimes misery and pain could be awful comfortable if you lived with it long enough. Even if you didn't want it to be. Or if not that, then extremely hard to crawl out of. Like a tar pit.

And you weren't the only one who noticed his poor state, either.

Roboute Guilliman leaned back in his chair. In one hand was a mug of steaming mountain laurel tea. On a very small clear spot on his desk was a small plate that held some Eldar sweets Yvraine had brought for their weekly chat over tea. She held her teacup in the toes of her left foot, a plate in her right hand, and her gryrinx Alorynis tucked under her left arm. He kept trying to fling himself into Guilliman's lap, which he seemed to prefer because it was bigger.

He loved these meetings with her. They had become a weekly thing under the guise of "negotiation", and she was an accepted sight around the Fortress of Hera. It was nothing short of a relief to have her to talk to.

"Let him sit." Roboute said, amused as he watched the feline struggle.

"He'll get your lovely blue toga covered in sheddings." Yvraine said, sipping her tea. Placing Alorynis in his lap anyway. The gryrinx immediately curled into a happy ball, purring.

He stroked the creature's back, smiling. Although she could see it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't mind. I like cats."

"Robu, you're frowning again." She poked his wrinkled forehead. "What's on your mind this time?"

"Nothing unusual. I am concerned about one of my sons. Among other things."

"Which one?" She said, amused. "You have so many. I'm jealous."

He snorted. "Very funny, you unbearable xenos witch. It is Cato Sicarius."

"Ah yes. The one who never smiles."

"Most Astartes don't smile too often." Roboute pointed out.

"He only has two expressions from what I've seen. Grinding his teeth behind his lips, and a thousand yard stare."

"He's been happier recently. But that's because of his serf, I believe. The root problem is still there."

Despite her teasing, her expression was sympathetic. "What do you mean?"

"He used to be a very...arrogant man. He has gone through much humbling since, but I do not think all of it has been beneficial. I think he is as bad as he was in some aspects, but in the very different way. Instead of pride, it is pain that guides his actions. Although he adamantly refuses to talk about it to anyone."

"Have you tried asking him directly? He wouldn't refuse you."

"No, but forcing him to speak will do no good either. It will make him more evasive and mistrustful." He sighed. "I have asked, but only vaguely. I do not want to be overbearing to my Astartes, but I am worried about Cato. He pulls away from his brothers, and from me. He isolates himself, and wanders around in the night. There is no light in his eyes."

"Do you have any idea as to why?" Yvraine asked. "Maybe he just prefers to be alone."

"No. Some years ago, a ship he was traveling on got lost in the Warp. It was trapped for five years, aimless and constantly being invaded by daemons and Warpborn horrors. Many of his men died. I believe it has traumatized him."

Yvraine's ears flicked up in surprise. She looked sober. "I didn't know that was even possible. What does an Angel of Death need to see that will scar his mind so deeply?"

"It is very possible. Nobody likes to talk about it, but it is. Granted, it is also not common. In that you are correct. It takes a special kind of hell to leave that kind of scarring."

"But I suppose being lost in the Warp for five years is as special kind of hell."

"It is."

"He also doesn't seem to popular with your boys. I've heard some...less than flattering remarks."

"You probably hear everything with those ears." He said with a small smile. She snorted a laugh. "He is...a divisive figure. Many respect him. Many cannot stand him. I know one of my ambassadors really dislikes him."

"I've heard people calling him sexist."

"He is not. That rumor is stupid." Roboute said, thoroughly tired of it. "I thought my sons were more mature, but apparently not."

"Boys will be boys Robu." She pinched his cheek.

He sighed. "I wish to help him, but I don't know how. And..." He trailed off, uncertain of how much to share.

"Go on Robu. You know I won't breathe a word of it."

She read him like an open book. He loved that woman. "The mission I sent the Redeemed on. It is a success so far. If all goes well, I will be off to Medusa soon. If that goes well, I will need Cato then. And I will need him at his sharpest. Beyond, even."

The Redeemed were a...peculiar chapter of Astartes under Roboute's direct control. They were perfectly normal, except for the fact that it was entirely made up of former Chaos and traitor marines. He had a soft spot for them, and they were by far his best weapon against daemons and Warp spawn of all kinds.

"Ah. The thing with your brother?"

"Yes." That was the end of that train of discussion. "I know I cannot rush his healing, but I do not believe he has even begun to heal. His wounds still bleed. I fear if I try and intervene I will make things worse. I do not wish to hurt him."

"You said he had a serf he's fond of. It seems he's not entirely without comfort."

"He loves her. And it is good he has her. He does not trust his brothers with this. He does not trust me with this. Let him have her. Someone."

"I think you could reach out to him too. Don't force him, but merely inquire. Tell him you've noticed his change in behavior and be honest about your concerns. You are still his father, after a strange fashion. Maybe he could use some kind words from his Primarch. His Primarch certainly needs kind words too from time to time."

He smiled at that. "Not inaccurate. I will see what I can do. Maybe talk to his serf as well."

"See? There's the Robu I know. Always making plans." She patted his head. "And you are still as infuriating as ever." "Shut up and drink your tea before it gets cold." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a beautiful evening. The light of the setting sun was golden, the day was warm and the breeze was cool. It was nice enough that even the Ultramarines took notice, spending their small amount of free time outside in snatches.

Cato sighed. The wind made his robes ripple and flutter. He'd received a note inviting him to share a jug of wine and some small talk with a few other officers. His first instinct was to refuse, but then he remembered he was trying to retain some semblance of normality. So now he felt obligated to show up. He would have brought you with him, but you were fast sleep in the sunshine. Instead he'd covered you up with his cape and let you nap. You were cute like that anyway.

He found the others sitting in the shade of an old willow tree, the wind rustling the long branches. It sounded like rattling bones. Marneus, Uriel, and Demetrian were scattered across the benches around the trunk. They all looked unusually relaxed and in good spirits.

"Sicarius."

"Cato."

He sat on the edge of the bench Titus was on, who promptly handed him a clay cup. The liquid inside was a dark red, dry and sour tasting.

"Chapter master, Uriel, Titus." He nodded to each. "I wasn't expecting an invitation. Did anything special happen?" He asked, keeping his tone neutral.

"Can't we just want to enjoy your company?" Titus asked, smacking his shoulder.

He snorted. "Nobody enjoys my company. I thought that was established."

"That serf of yours seems to enjoy it. Congratulations on that." Uriel smiled at him. "I never would have guessed you to be the type to seek out something like that."

Titus nodded. "It's very rare, but not unheard of. I know the Chapter Master had a girl once, when he was young and attractive."

Calgar raised a grayed eyebrow. "What do you mean was?"

"Well...you are old." Uriel offered.

"Brilliant observation Ventris. It's that tactical genius that made you captain of the fourth."

Uriel and Titus both snickered at that. Cato offered a small smile at the Chapter Master's witticism. He took a sip of the wine to offset the fact that he wasn't laughing. A small one, though. It was starting to look a bit too much like blood for his comfort.

Then Marneus's gaze turned squarely on Cato. "But I'm not so old that a replacement needs to be considered yet. Sicarius."

He nearly choked on his wine. "Who, me? Absolutely not. I don't want to be Chapter Master. Keep your chair."

The thought was utterly laughable. He had aspired to it. Once. Not anymore though. he'd already proved himself too incompetent for that seat.

That earned him three raised eyebrows.

"What happened to you, Cato?" Uriel asked. "I thought you were counting down the days until Calgar was unavailable."

"I was. When I was young, and still had hope." He replied, then seeing the looks he was getting, "But it doesn't look like our venerable Chapter Master will be abdicating anytime soon." He added, forcing a joke.

"1st Captain Severus will be pleased to hear it." Titus told him with a grin.

"Seems I get a break from young upstarts for a while." Calgar said wryly.

"And when the time comes may someone worthy take your place."

He held up his cup in salute to the chapter master. Hoping that they believed his words were true. Because they were. Someone worthy. Not him.

The others raised their cups in return before taking a swig.

"Maybe one of you two." He added.

Titus shook his head. "I think I'm happier where I am."

"I never considered it." Uriel admitted. "I try to keep my aspirations reasonable."

"You would be a good pick though." Titus mused, agreeing with Cato.

He nodded.

"You have the track record." Calgar nodded slowly. "If you're not dead by the time I am, and if Agemman doesn't want to job for some reason."

"You're a hero, Uriel. The things you have accomplished go beyond even our line of duty." Cato said. "I believe you have a lot of qualities the Primarch likes to see in us as well. That might make you more a favorable choice."

"Don't sell yourself short Cato. You have done a lot of good too. Lord Guilliman wouldn't have made you captain of the Victrix for nothing."

The wine was starting to acquire an oddly metallic taste. Like iron. "Everything I have done has come off the heels of a spectacular blunder."

"I got sent off to Medrenguard because I didn't follow the Codex Astartes. Remember?"

Cato shook his head. "You did what needed to be done. I sent my men to their deaths."

"The Emperor's Will was not your fault, Sicarius." Calgar interjected. "Blaming yourself accomplishes nothing."

"And what about the losses at Damnos? Or Black Reach? I have proven time and time again that I am not a good commander."

"There is no leader of men who has only victories. Not even Lord Guilliman can claim that. You have failed, and you have failed hard. That is certainly true. But you have learned from it since. I doubt you would make the same mistakes again. Would you?"

"Of course not."

"There you have it then."

He felt a warmth in his chest for a moment before the doubts he held to be truths reasserted themselves. He had missed this. This fellowship. It was like he had been gifted a taste of the brotherhood he had lost, and he hadn't realized how bitterly he had missed it.

"That is something easier said than applied." He countered, and before he could stop himself, added. "Some things still haunt me."

It eve smelled like blood now.

Uriel nodded sagely. "I still think about the things I saw on Medrenguard sometimes. Although time has sanded the edges a great deal."

"Yes, of course." He said, a little too quickly. "It always does. But it's still unpleasant."

It didn't. He thought. Everything is still as sharp and painful as ever. Do you still smell the charnel reek? Do you still hear the screaming and moaning of the poor wretches of the Daemonculaba? Is your sleep full of daemon music and rot? Do you see Tyranids in every shadow and Iron Warriors in every doorway?

Time hadn't healed any of his wounds. He could still feel them, deep in his mind, pulsing with pain and oozing infection. That's how he felt. Like an infected wound. He had simply gotten worse and worse over time. That's why he was in this state now. Both his honor and his mind in pieces.

He wondered why they had asked him here in the first place. His hand shook, and he put the wine cup down. It all tasted like blood anyway. He wasn't like them. They were all heroes. They were everything an Ultramarine was supposed to be.

Maybe that's why he was here. So he could see everything that he wasn't.

He fell silent for the most part after that, listening to the other three and occasionally answering yes or no to some question or another. As quickly as that moment of warmth had come it was gone, and he felt hollow again.

Eventually he stood up to take his leave.

"Wait." He turned to see Titus holding out a few long sprigs of mountain laurels. Clusters of beautiful, star shaped white, pink and red flowers.

"Take these to your lady. I notice you've been bringing her flowers all the time." He said with a smile. Cato took them with a nod of gratitude.

"She likes them. Thank you."

"Good luck with her." Titus called after him, before his expression turned stony.

He was going to have to talk to someone about this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Peahen." Cato called softly, opening the door to his quarters.

You were awake, sewing up a few ragged edges on his broad red cape. Looking up, your face broke into a wide grin when you saw him, and the gorgeous flowers he had for you. Putting your sewing down, you sprung into him like a rabbit into a trap. He gathered you up in his arms and held you tightly. Tucking the laurels into your hair.

"They're beautiful Cato. Thank you so much." You beamed at him. Cupping his cheeks in your hands, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

He smiled. Feeling all his earlier distress draining away as he held you close. You could see his expression soften, the tension drop from his shoulders.

"One of my brothers suggested them." He said.

"He has good taste." You ran your fingers gently over the petals. "You know you don't have to bring me flowers every day." He sat down, pulling you into his lap. "Maybe not. But seeing your eyes light up every time I present you with some makes it worth doing. I like making you happy."

You snuggled against him, as content as a cat with a stolen fish. "I appreciate it. You know I've saved every single one. I'm filling a book with them."

"Really?"

"Yep." You nodded. "I dry and press them. It's like a record of sorts. Since we...became and item."

He took your small hand in his and squeezed it.

"I want to make you happy too." You told him.

"You make me happy just by being here."

He kissed your cheek.

"You are my solace."

You pulled one of the springs of laurel from your hair and tucked it behind his ear. "You look so handsome Cato."

"I love you." He whispered. Holding you close. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Titus." Roboute greeted his son as he walked into his office.

"Lord Primarch." He returned. "Am I interrupting anything?"

He sighed. "Nothing out of the ordinary, lieutenant. Is something wrong? You look troubled."

"Forgive me if this is nothing, but I felt that I needed to speak to someone about this." Titus began. "I...believe there is something going on with Cato."

To his surprise Roboute's expression darkened almost immediately. "Tell me." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hole-dwelling, hole-dwelling, hole-dwelling, you’re just like me

#Titus is best wingman #Don't ask me where a bloody part 3 came from #warhammer 40k #warhammer #adeptus astartes #space marines #ultramarines #space marine x reader #space marine x female reader #cato sicarius #cato sicarius x reader #cato sicarius x female reader #cato has ptsd #Also a pinch of Guillivraine #captain titus #marneus calgar #uriel ventris

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aqua-the-smiter · 4 months ago

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Part 4. Cato's still not paying rent. At least I started reading his books now. When he's needed most, he will crack. He thought that should've been obvious. Cato Sicarius x female reader you are the only light in his life Divider by @squishyowl, and once again I apologize for so many @ s. He won't leave me alone man. Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNNPgIfK2YE

As you stared up at Primarch Roboute Guilliman, you were filled with a mix of potent awe and fear.

He had sent Titus to fetch you while Cato was away, occupied with an Astartes's daily tasks. He'd been courteous and quite warm with you, which had gone a long way to ease your worries about being summoned by the Primarch. But standing before him now, you felt them all rushing back.

He was huge. You'd seen him from a distance, but up close, even just sitting down he was massive. Not just tall, but broad and well muscled. Bigger than even the Primaris marines. His expression was neutral, but you could see creases in his forehead where his own concern was showing through. That helped you wrap your head around him. You started paying more attention to his features as well. His skin was fair, hair was blond, and eyes were the most beautiful, startling blue you'd ever seen. That helped you ground your view of him. Once you got past the whole...Primarch-ness of him, he was quite a good looking man too. His face looked like it belonged on the back of a coin. You could see where Cato got it from, and you amused yourself by imagining Guilliman with a beard.

"My lord Primarch." You bowed low to him.

He returned the gesture with a nod, and bid you stand. "My lady. I apologize for summoning you here with little warning. I am tied up with preparations, but I had a spare moment, and I'd like to speak with you."

"Have I...have I done anything wrong?" You asked.

"No, you have not. Don't worry." He gave you a reassuring smile. You felt better almost immediately. "You have recently gotten close with Cato Sicarius, and I would like to ask you about him. That's all."

"I see. You're not...displeased with it at all?" Because I'm not leaving him even if you are.

"Of course not. It is unusual, but harmless. In fact I think you have been doing him some much needed good. He loves you very deeply." After a moment, he added. "Many Astartes forget they too are human. Cato having you will help remind him of that."

You thought for a moment. "Then you've noticed that he's acting weird too? I thought I was the only one."

Titus gave you a soft smile. "Not all of us have hung our brother out to dry."

Guilliman nodded. "I have noticed his odd behavior for a while. When Titus came to me about it, I realized I cannot let it lie any longer. Which is where you come in. You know him well. I wanted to ask you what you've noticed about him. What you've seen."

You breathed a sigh of relief. Happy to not be in any trouble with the Primarch, and also that someone seemed to finally be taking notice of Cato's...issues.

"I thought someone would never ask." You admitted. "I've been trying to help him the best I can, but I think it's something far out of my wheelhouse."

"It's not an easy subject to broach."

"It's not." You agreed. "Well...let me think. He avoids his battle brothers a lot. Before we got together if he wasn't on duty I would find him in strange places. Doesn't really talk with anyone besides me either."

You paused.

"I've noticed he never seems to be calm. He always seems tense. Paranoid, even. Like he's just waiting for something to go wrong. Even when we're alone together I can feel tension in him. Sometimes I'll catch him staring off into the distance for minutes on end. He hears screaming, or music. He's woken up screaming more than once. Really, really bad nightmares. Night terrors even."

"Does he tell you about any of it?"

You nodded. "He tells me everything. I've been trying to be there for him. I told him if he needed just one person he could trust with this I would be that. He's told me about the Emperor's Will, and Damnos. Black Reach."

The Primarch was silent for a moment. "Thank you for your honesty. And for looking after him. I would like to say that he hid it well, but I think the truth is that he was not hiding it at all."

"You have so many other things demanding your attention, lord." It felt weird trying to reassure a Primarch, but you honestly didn't blame him for Cato's poor state of mind. "What are you going to do exactly?"

"I will have to consider it. This whole situation is delicate. But I will not leave it alone any longer. It appears to have grown into something where I cannot. Please, continue on as you are with him. You do him good."

You nodded. You doubted you needed to tell him you stuck with Cato because you loved him.

The Primarch let you go, and you gave him a little curtsy before you left. He smiled.

Titus turned to him. "What are you considering?" He asked.

Guilliman sighed. "For now? I will have to leave it to consideration only. I have received a message from the Redeemed."

"Was their mission a success?"

"If you consider rooting around in the Imperial Palace for one document a mission." He said with a rueful smile. "But yes, it was. I will have to leave soon, and go with them to Medusa. You will all learn what it's about when I return."

"You are leaving?" Titus asked.

"I have to. I made a promise."

He looked at the wedding ring sitting on his desk. Gold and silver, patterned in intricate Medusan knotwork. It was sized for a finger bigger than his, and hung on a platinum chain.

"And Cato?"

"Help him however you are about to. I will need him before long."

Titus nodded. "I will do my best." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cato wished Guilliman had taken him on his excursion. But the Primarch had been adamant. It was best if he undertook this mission alone, so as soon as the Redeemed had returned to Macragge, he'd been gone.

He hadn't quite resorted to begging, but it had been close. He was getting desperate to get off of Macragge. To get away from the Fortress of Hera, from his brothers. Even the civilians, who all looked at him like he was some kind of hero. It gave him a strong desire to start scratching at walls. Moreover, at least on campaign Cato had a solid excuse to avoid sleeping, even if he had an opportunity to.

Sleep was hazardous. With sleep came dreams, a jumbled mix of different pieces of his past all ground down into a slurry of nightmares. On campaign he was either locked in combat or planning strategy or doing a hundred other things. While he was stuck at home, he didn't have that. And even Astartes needed rest eventually.

Well, "home" was a relative term. He didn't remember the last time the Fortress of Hera had felt like home.

You, bless your sweet heart, were always chiding him about getting sleep. Even before he'd been blessed with you in his arms, as his serf you always made a point of looking out for him. Telling you off in that softly displeased manner that even Space Marines needed got tired and how he needed to go get some rest. You didn't know then, about his nightmares.

Granted, he didn't always have them. Whenever you cuddled in bed with him, his sleep was far more peaceful. Those nights were always the best for him. Holding you close, pressing his face into your hair, feeling your small, soft body snuggled against his. It was nothing short of blissful.

But tonight his bed was empty aside from himself, and his sleep was as troubled as it always was.

It was like an ocean. A geometrically perfect ocean of chrome and malevolent emerald green. The sky overhead was dark with an approaching storm, and the plain shrouded in mist.

And it was dead silent.

There were necrons. Endless, endless necrons, a legion of them stretching all the way to the horizon. Like every single last one of the mechanical horrors had made their way to this battle, and were all standing before him in a great gray sea.

He didn't fear them though. Cato Sicarius feared nothing. He was a part of the greatest army the galaxy had ever seen, and he was their zenith. No xenos filth would stand before he and his brothers today. No matter how many of them there were. He knew no fear.

"The day shall be ours, brothers!" He bellowed. "For the Primarch! For Ultramar!"

It was like a parody of every speech he'd ever given before a battle, all watered down and weak.

When he turned back to look at the ranks of his brothers behind them, he saw not a single one of them had moved. They all stood as stock still as the necrons, weapons held at the ready. It was like the legion of the Great Crusade come again. Had there been so many before? And they all stared at him. He could feel it, hundred of pairs of eyes all glaring at him. Judging him. Looking at him like he was an idiot.

In front of them stood Marneus Calgar and Severus Agemman. Both glaring at him in the same manner. Like he was a fool.

"Well?" Calgar asked him.

"What are you waiting for?" Agemman continued.

Cato wanted to ask what they were talking about, but his tongue felt leaden in his mouth. His jaw hurt, and he couldn't move it. Like it had been welded shut.

"You wanted glory, didn't you?" Marneus asked again.

"You want to be Chapter Master?" Severus echoed him. "Then go ahead. Go prove that you are worthy of it."

Cato wanted to scream that being Chapter Master was the last thing he desired now. He wasn't fit for the job and he knew it, but his mouth wouldn't work. He couldn't say anything, so he did as he was bid, his grip tight on the Tempest Blade.

He wanted to weep at what he saw in front of him.

The necrons had changed. They weren't metal anymore.

They were still necrons, but necrons made of flesh and bone and sinew instead. The shape was still the same, twisted into something made of glistening red meat.

Somehow, covered in organic matter, it looked even less human. The once metal skeleton, now bone, twisted and spiraled together in strange shapes. Raised red veins and ridges of flesh formed odd, vaguely geometric patterns in the muscle. He could see squishy, pulsating organs in their abdominal and chest cavities, barely held in place by spars of bone and stringy loops of meat.

Emerald eyes glowed with malevolent luminescence like the lure of some deep sea fish. Ivory teeth leered from lipless mouths curled into a mummy's dry grimace. The air stank of raw flesh and blood enough to make him gag. "I can't." He whispered.

"You must." Said Calgar and Agemman.

This time Cato was the one who began to scream.

And then he woke up. His face wet. With tears or sweat, he couldn't be sure. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ There was a small, unspoken fear when Guilliman left that he wouldn't return. Nobody said it aloud, but it was an undercurrent of tension all the same. Thankfully, it all turned out to be unfounded. The Primarch returned a few months later on the Redeemed's ship, safe, sound, and bearing some unusual cargo.

It was winter on Macragge. The Fortress of Hera was frosted in snow and icicles, and the neophytes were getting into snowball fights.

Of course, Cato didn't know that. When you'd made your way to his quarters to see if he'd gotten the good news, he was still fast asleep in bed. Snoring like a chainsword, nestled into his blankets, and drooling a bit into his beard. You giggled a bit, seeing your beloved captain looking so disheveled yet so cozy. It almost hurt you to wake him up.

"Peahen?" He asked groggily, his eyes fluttering open.

You kissed him on the nose. "The Primarch's returned."

That got his attention in a hurry. He sat bolt upright. "Did I oversleep again?"

"Not this time." You ran your hand through his hair. That helped calm him down a bit as he kicked his covers off. "Lord Guilliman is just an early riser it seems."

"I used to be."

You shook your head, throwing a body glove at him while he finally emerged from his blanket cocoon fully. Then you sat and set about polishing a few loose pieces of his armor. Helmet, pauldrons, gauntlets. He'd handle the big stuff.

"Don't bother with that." He chided, shuffling over with the bodyglove half pulled up to his calves. "You'll never finish it in time."

"Oh hush up. I want you to look nice in front of your gene-father. It'll go much faster if you pull that thing on and help me."

He rolled his eyes, but did as you asked, and ten minutes later his armor shone like blue tourmaline. The plume of his helmet was brushed out, and finally you helped him fasten his cape to his pauldrons.

"Oh look at you." You purred. "Always so handsome in your armor. Just like a peacock."

He tilted your chin back and pressed a brief kiss to your lips. "You do nothing but fill my ears with flattery."

"Someone needs to." You offered him his sheathed sword with some effort. It was affixed to his belt in short order.

"I suppose it's impossible to inflate an ego that has so many holes in it that it may as well be a shooting range target."

He offered you his arm, and the two of you walked down to the parade grounds to see just what had become of Roboute Guilliman. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cato took his place at the head of the other Victrix Guard, earning him a few stares since he was the last one there. He realized belatedly that his lack of punctuality combined with the state of his armor was probably sending a decidedly negative message. You might have liked his peacocking, but nobody else had ever did. He'd made an effort to stop. And now there's be snide comments for weeks about how he'd probably be late to a battle because he was shining his pauldrons. He sighed internally, already dreading it.

The Astartes were arranged into two columns, forming a path between them. Titus was standing a ways off with his Primaris, and Uriel with the men of the 4th. Calgar stood at the front along with the Victrix. Cato could've sworn he smirked at him as he passed by. The fresh snow from the night before was packed with footprints. Light wind sent small sprays of glittering powder skittering across the courtyard and ruffled his hair. They stood in silence, waiting.

Finally, the gates swung open, and the Primarch entered.

Trailing behind him came the Redeemed. Their armor gleamed, ceramite as white as the snow with gold trim. The chapter symbol, a wheel with eight spikes turned inward, flashed in the sun. So did their Chapter Master, and his crystalline...well, everything. Armor and body alike casting small rainbows on the ground.

The sword of the Emperor was sheathed at Guilliman's side. It took Cato a moment to realize he was holding something. Once he got closer, the Victrix captain had to bite back his shock.

In Roboute's arms was a tiny, tiny little baby boy. The infant was nearly swamped by the blanket he was swaddled in, black silk lined with the fur of a Medusan snow lion. Picked out along the hem in silver thread was a design of knotwork. Worked into the pattern was a gear with a hand in the middle.

He was fast asleep, his head resting against Guilliman's breastplate. Comically small. Roboute's expression bore a tenderness that none of the Ultramarines had ever seen on his face before. It made him look decades younger, stripping away the stress and pain in his eyes.

"It can't be." He barely heard Titus's whisper, and he was bound to agree.

Nothing had been said yet, but the obvious conclusion was hard not to draw.

Roboute came to a stop next to Calgar and turned to face his sons. The Redeemed lined up next to him, all solemn and oddly subdued.

"My sons." He began, quieter than he would have been normally. "I thank you for your patience while I was absent, and with the secrecy. This was too critical for me to risk. First, I would like to thank the Redeemed for their part in this. If not for you, this may have never been set into motion."

Kaleidius, the chapter master, dipped his head in acknowledgement.

"As for what this was all about, well. As it turns out, my brother was very, very good at keeping secrets."

But maybe in the end, he was the wisest of all of us for doing so.

"I know there are going to be many questions. There will be answers in time, but they cannot come now. Things are still...delicate. I will tell you this though. His name is Melor, and he is very, very precious. I will be caring for him for the foreseeable future, and we will be protecting him for as long as necessary." He announced, and let his words hang in the air for a moment.

Cato could hear even some of the Victrix starting to whisper amongst themselves, and he couldn't blame them. There was obviously something unusual about the boy, even if he couldn't put his finger on what.

"My lord?" Marneus spoke up. "Forgive me if this is out of line. But may I at least ask why you have chosen to take on this responsibility?"

"Do you take issue with it?"

"No, my lord. I merely wish for a clearer understanding of your logic."

Guilliman sighed. "There is not much to it. I made a promise. One I do not intend to break, no matter how inconvenient it is. I owe him that much at the very least."

He stroked the short, fuzzy growth of black hair on Melor's scalp with his fingertips. Then, he turned to Cato, who felt like things were about to go very wrong for him.

"Captain Sicarius."

He stepped forward at his Primarch's order. Feeling like a psyker with how he had predicted Guilliman's next words.

"You have been captain of the 2nd, and you are captain of my Victrix Honor Guard. Many times over you have proven yourself to be valiant and a warrior of renown."

He wanted to laugh. Where the hell had the Primarch gotten all that from? He was barely competent. His record was full of poor decisions and good men dead at his hand. Ego leading him around like the blind leading the blind, and he was only renowned because his battle brothers couldn't stand him. But he couldn't make his jaw work to say any of it.

A part of him wondered if this was Guilliman's way of humbling him even further. Of bringing him down so low that he never forgot how much of a failure he truly was. Why else would he ask him to guard an infant? One who's significance he had yet to explain. It would surely keep him far away from any future battlefields. Maybe someone else would replace him as captain of the Victrix while he was relegated to nursemaid.

Over the sound of his blood in his ears he swore he could hear a pipe organ.

But...

No, surely not. One look into the Primarch's eyes told him that. There was love there, genuine love for that child. He wouldn't put the boy at risk by using him as a tool to rein Cato in. Which left an even more horrifying reality.

Guilliman thought he was a good man for the job.

"I am assigning you to be his guardian. I will be with him as much as I can, but I know for a fact it won't be as much as I would like. You will protect him when I cannot."

Cato felt like the ground was caving in under him. He didn't know if he wanted to scream or laugh. That child was probably safer with Ezekyle than with him.

"My lord." Cato began, his voice uncharacteristically weak. "I'm honored you think I am worthy of such a task. But I cannot accept this duty."

"Captain?"

"I am not the man you want for this, my lord. I cannot protect him."

Titus and Uriel shared uncomfortable glances. Even Calgar's usually unreadable expression was slackened a bit as he stared at Cato like he'd gone completely mad.

Kaleidius looked at him with surprising pity in those blank, pitch black eyes.

"Explain yourself, captain." "I..." He felt like his throat was sewn shut. "I am not reliable, my lord. My record speaks for itself. Heavy losses and failure after failure. I look around and all I can see are my brothers who are not here. They’re all dead. My honor is in tatters. I cannot take on a task so important in such a humiliated state. I don't know why you still allow me to lead the Victrix guard like this."

He should have been demoted. He should have been sent back to the scouts like Leandros had been, to learn a lesson. He should have been executed.

His battle brothers stared at him. As if he'd just morphed into Horus himself in front of them. Most of them had no idea where all of this was coming from.

You knew. Watching from a doorway with some other serfs, and it took every ounce of your self control not to runto Cato and throw your arms around him. Titus and Uriel knew, given looks they were exchanging. The former's a mask of barely contained horror. If he'd known it was this bad, he would have talked to Cato himself.

The Primarch's expression softened, just a fraction, and his voice was more compassionate than another commander's might have been. "That is not for you to decide. I have made a decision which you have no right to refute. I understand that some of the things you have done haunt you, but you let that color your view of everything you have done. Do not let a few failings tarnish every achievement."

Roboute could see that Cato wasn't convinced in the slightest, but he nodded in assent. "Yes, my lord."

He complied. What else could he do? If there was a way to dissuade his Primarch's misplaced confidence in him, he didn't know it. What he did know is that when this too ended in failure, the consequences were going to be horrific. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Cato knelt down, holding you close. Hugging you tightly, as tightly as he dared. His head rested in the crook of your shoulder, and you felt that spot growing wet.

You didn't care. You held him just as tightly, running your fingers through his hair. He didn't say anything, didn't make a sound. Just clung to you.

"Maybe Lord Guilliman is right." You told him softly. "I think you'll do just fine. Don't let every wrong thing you have ever done wipe out all the good."

"And what good have I done?" He whispered back.

You kissed his forehead. "More than you realize."

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