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thethronezone · 3 days ago

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Do it! I would love to see it!

If you do asks for Primarch dads, let me humbly offer Primarchs reacting to their kid sustaining pretty serious injury.

-Mortarion sometimes underestimated the intelligence of his child. They weren't stupid by any means, he simply did not expect much from them considering their young age. Not even a decade old, what could they do? So when they expressed an interest in his work, his lab, he had refused them without a second thought. He hadn't even considered the possibility that they might find another way into the room, even without his direct access. Mortarion had been careless. He should have used better locks.

His child weeps and trembles in his arms, small hands covering their burned face in a desperate effort to soothe the pain. Their cries pierce straight through his hearts and when Mortarion is forced to move their hands away from their face so the apothecary can get a look at the injuries, he apologizes, begs them for forgiveness. He's so sorry, little one, please forgive him. Because this was his fault. He should have been more careful. Mortarion will carry this guilt for the rest of his life.

-It's his child's birthday and like usual, Fulgrim is holding a big banquet to celebrate them. Everything is going according to plan. The guests are enjoying themselves, the music is splendid, the food and drink delicious and his child is being admired by all. Fulgrim feels like nothing can go wrong. So when his child approaches him, quietly admitting to not feeling too well, he initially waves it off. It's just nerves, dear. Have a bite to eat and you will feel better in no time. And for a few minutes, everything is fine. Then his child suddenly collapses onto the floor, clutching their mouth as a torrent of dark blood spews from between their lips.

Fulgrim is not really sure what happens next. He's by their side, holding their hand and he knows the guests are screaming, panicking, but he can't hear them. Can't even see them as anything more than moving blurs in his peripheral. He's too focused on the way his child, the way they are trembling, shaking and gasping for air, all while looking him in the eyes pleadingly. He can't look away because what if this is it? It's only when a team of apothecaries arrives and begin their life-saving efforts that Fulgrim snaps out of it, fear and anguished turning into overwhelming hatred. Immediately, he orders his men to apprehend all the guests and the servants, let no one escape. Someone has poisoned his child and he promises, oh he swears on his life and honor, that whoever did it will face a fate worse than death.

-It was an accident. Angron, despite all his faults, had never wanted to hurt his child. Even in his darkest moments, even when he had been overcome with senseless rage, this sentiment rang true. That's why he'd always kept his child at arm's length, so he wouldn't accidentally hurt them. And it had worked. Angron had not laid a single hand on his child in anger, had never made them bleed. Not until the day it finally happened, when he snapped. His child, who had never feared his temper, had given him an attitude and Angron, who had already been in a bad mood, had acted instinctively and... It hurt to just think about what he had done in that sudden fit of uncontrollable rage.

Once the red haze had left his mind, Angron had found himself standing above his child who laid sprawled out on the floor, eyes wide and full of fear while clutching their jaw with both hands. It was broken, the skin of their lips split and a few teeth knocked loose. Immediately, Angron felt his blood go cold as he realized what he had done. He wanted to reach out, to apologize and plead for forgiveness, to cradle them in his arms and take away the pain, make it his own, tear his own heart out and die and- and- Angron storms out the room, guilt tearing him apart on the inside and the nails screaming at him to shed even more blood.

-Magnus often forgot how young his child truly was. How inexperienced and vulnerable they were. It was too easy to see himself in them so when they pushed themself... he didn't stop them in time. And now they had to pay for it, for his lack of foresight. They were in a coma, caused by intense psychic backlash. They had just wanted to prove themself to him, to show their power as a psyker but it had been to much for them and... Magnus had seen them drop, like a puppet with all their strings cut off, and for a moment he had feared them dead and the palace had shook with his psychic scream of agony.

He spends a long time by his child's side as they recover. He tells them stories, tales full of wonder and hopes they provide his little one with pleasant dreams. Magnus could check for himself, could enter their mind and take a look but he does not dare to. Not after what happened. What if his psychic presence only makes it worse? So he sits on the edge of their bed, hands clasped and head hanging low, almost as if in prayer, and waits for his child to awaken.

-When the Iron Warrior approaches him, Perturabo knows it's about his child. He can see it on their face, as the astartes always have this expression when it comes to them. The space marine explains that his child hit their head pretty hard during a sparring session and now got a concussion. Perturabo sighs. Tells the astartes' to discipline whoever had been his child's sparring partner and then waves them away before going back to his work. He's not worried. His child is attended to by apothecaries and serfs, they are looked after and attended to. There's no need for him to work himself up over this.

It's only when Perturabo later goes to check up on his child, to see how well they are healing, that he feels... something. They are in bed and their chamber is dark, with only a few candles scattered though out the room to shed some dim light. They look at him, greet him like he expects them to, but Perturabo can see the sluggishness in their movements, their dazed expression. Seeing them so vulnerable is... unpleasant. He tells his child to rest well, to do as the apothecaries say and to recover swiftly before hurrying out of the chamber, desperate to get rid of the heavy feeling in his chest.

-As much as Alpharius and Omegon values intelligence and subterfuge, they are both very much aware that in this galaxy ravaged by conflict, some occasions required a more direct approach using brute force. As such, their child is taught how to fight from an early age. It starts with basic self defense. It pleases both of them to see that their child quickly takes to the lessons and excel in the training exercises. But even a prodigy can stumble and so, during one of their sparring lessons, things go wrong. There's a crack and a yelp of pain and suddenly there are tears in the child's eyes.

A broken rib, the twin Primarchs are informed. Easily treated, with some rest and ice applied to the swollen area. Alpharius and Omegon listen attentively, calm but serious. They are not worried, their minds put at ease by the apothecary's diagnosis and words. Instead, they try to frame the thing as something positive to their child, a learning opportunity. They want to make it clear that failure and pain does not mean everything is lost. A valuable lesson for the future.

-When Lorgar gets the message that his child is in the medical center, he does not hesitate to rush there, no matter what he's doing at the time. Nothing is more important to him than the wellbeing of his child. Lorgar arrives at the medical center to find them sitting on one of the medical cots, in the middle of getting attended to by an apothecary. Immediately, Lorgar is by their side, inspecting them for damage. He starts frowning and murmuring with concern when he sees the medical patch over their eye and his frown grows even larger when he's told that his child almost lost the eye.

Honestly, Lorgar is more concerned and worried than his kid is and they have to ease his nerves by promising to be more careful in the future. For the entirety of the time that his child wears the medical eyepatch, there will be a look of concern on his face, a soft frown that only goes away when the eye finishes healing and the patch is removed.

-It all happened so quickly. All Horus had wanted to do was show his child a planet that him and the Luna Wolves had recently inducted into Imperium after defeating the local forces. His pride had urged him to share this success with them, to bask in their admiration. Horus had assumed the area secure, all the opposition defeated... He had been wrong. One vengeful enemy soldier, unable to accept the fact that they had lost, laying in wait with their gun locked and loaded. A coward that, instead of going after Horus himself, had decided to target his child. One second they are laughing, smiling, and then there's the echo of gunfire and they are on the ground, bleeding. His child is bleeding.

Horus holds them in his arms, cradling them like a newborn as they weakly clutch at him and whimper in pain. He shushes them gently, smooths their hair out of their face and promises them everything will be alright. He's the picture of calm, of composure and comfort. Inside, however, he is raging, howling like a mindless beast thirsting for bloody vengeance. He's only holding back so he can soothe his child, keep them calm. But he knows that the moment he gets his hands on the one who did this, he will devolve into a savage and tear them apart in the most agonizingly painful way he can think of. That, he promises.

-Konrad is in the other end of fortress when hears the sudden scream of pain coming from his child. The reaction is instantaneous. Like a man possessed, he rushes through the hallways, roughly shoving aside whoever is too slow to get out of his way, astartes and serfs alike. He doesn't even notice them, mind busy conjuring up different scenarios of what might have happened, each worse than the last. Konrad arrives at his child's room to find them crouched on the floor, clutching their hand and whimpering. On the floor is a pool of blood, a knife, and a finger.

In less than a second, he's by their side, inspecting their hand and asking, rather brusquely, what happened. And his child cries, from both pain and shame, as they admit to having played with the weapon, wishing to be like their father. Konrad feels a million different emotions all at once but he can only express it with a tight expression and grit teeth as he picks his little one up, their severed finger in one hand, as he takes them to the Apothecary, hoping that they can reattach the digit. He silently blames himself for letting this happen because if he had not been the way he is, then his child would never have gotten the idea to play with deadly weapons.

-From the moment he had seen their little wings, Sanguinius had looked forward towards teaching his child how to fly. And to be fair, it had been going great! His child was brave and eager to learn, listening attentively to him as he explained how to spread their wings and watching as he demonstrated how to balance on the winds. They were getting more confident in the air, more daring. It was a good thing but Sanguinius still told them that they were only allowed to practice under his supervision. He should have known they would eventually disobey him. After all, he would have done the same.

Still, the result still ended up catching Sanguinius by surprise. A broken wing, caused by his child crash landing after they had tried to fly on their own. He holds them close as the apothecary tends to their broken limb, their forehead pressed against his sternum as they cry. Sanguinius combs through their hair with one hand and keeps them from moving around too much with the other so the apothecary can do their job. He mutters soft words of comfort, not just to make their pain more bearable but to prove to them that he is not angry at them. Upset at their injury, yes, but he could never stay mad at his child. Sanguinius will take care of them while they are healing, making sure that they remember they can always trust him.

-No. No ,no, no, no. It's the only thought that echoes inside Corvus's head when he sees his child fall from the rafters that they so love to play in. He acts on pure instinct, dashing forward to catch them, arms outstretched and practically throwing himself across the room. But he's too late. The sound they make when their small body hit the floor will haunt him to his dying days and the way they just lay on the floor, unmoving... If not for the soft rise and fall of their ribcage, Corvus would have feared them dead. Gently scooping his child up in his arms and cradling them close, Corvus runs to the apothecary, doing his best to shake their body as little as possibly to not make their injuries worse.

When he arrives at the apothecaries, his eyes are wide, panicked. "Help them". It's an order, a plea, a demand. Corvus practically hovers over the apothecary as they work. It's not that he does not trust them but there's this lingering fear that won't go away. In his mind's eye, he sees his child falling and hitting the floor, over and over again. He should never have let them play up there, what was he thinking? Blames himself for this happening and his guilt manifests as overprotectiveness.

-Ferrus was not meant to be a father. He knew this better than anyone else. Yet somehow, he still managed to disappoint himself. When his child had expressed an interest in his work, Ferrus had been happy. Proud. Eager to share his knowledge and passion. So eager that he momentarily forgot just how fragile children are. That's why he hadn't given them any protective gear when they entered his workshop. Ferrus certainly didn't need it so he didn't think to- Terra, he didn't think.

The stench of seared flesh, the sound of electricity, the feeling of static in the air. One second his child is standing beside him, eyes wide and shining with curiosity, and the next they are splayed out on the floor, spasming. What happens next is purely instinctual on Ferrus' part. Within moments, his child is in his arms and he's out of his workshop, sprinting at full speed down the halls to the apothecary. For a man so proud of his rationality, his reason, there's none to be found in this moment. Only pure, unfiltered panic. The only thing that matters is his child and their irregular, weak heartbeats.

-Rogal watches with a calm expression as the apothecary tends to his child's injuries. He knows they are in good hands, that despite the severity of the injuries that they are going to recover. Yet he can't bring himself to leave. When his child had gotten injured, he had been filled with such a sense of urgency that now that things had calmed down, he didn't know what to do with the restless energy inside of him. Rogal is not worried, he's a logical man, but he's... concerned? He does not know how to describe it, the feeling that haunts him. Like all Primarchs, he has a perfect memory and while he normally views this as something positive, now he can't help but lament the fact that he can't get the image of his injured child out of his head.

On the outside, Rogal is his usual, stoic self but inside he's a whirlwind of emotions. He wants to protect his child from imaginary threats, wants to transfer all their pain over to himself so they won't have to bear with it. And isn't that shameful, to treat them like something frail, to fear a danger that is not present? Even more shameful is the fact that he can't stop his protectiveness from shoving. Rogal hovers around his child more than he usually does during their time of healing, though no one will comment upon it.

-Ever since they were a baby, Vulkan's little one had always been fascinated by fire. It had been charming at first, their excited little shouts when they saw the dancing flames, but as they learned how to walk it became... a concern, to say the least. Vulkan only had himself to blame for this, as his little one had seen him and the Salamanders work with fire with no fear and now held none of their own. As hard as he tried to protect them, it was only a matter of time until they got burned.

Still, when Vulkan finds his child clutching their hand close to their chest, crying, his hearts catch in his throat and he immediately scoops them up in his arms, offering them soft murmurs of concern and comfort. He inspects their hand and he holds them closer when he sees the nasty burns that stretch all the way to their wrist. With hurried steps he goes to the apothecary, knowing they have the tools to ease the pain and heal the blistered skin. Refuses to put his child down though, he holds them in his arms the entire time.

-It happens during training. Son or daughter, it does not matter, Lion will not allow his child to grow up without knowing how to fight. Usually, someone else is in charge of sparring with them but this day Lion decides that he's going to step in. Test them. He's pushing them to their limits, keeping them on their guard the whole time, critiquing their form and resolve when... he pushes them too far.

One second they are standing in front of him, defending from his attacks, and the next they are on the ground, clutching their arm and biting their lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying out. Lion stops and his eyes widen as he realizes that he's just broken their arm. Immediately, he barks at the serfs to fetch an Apothecary, voice loud and harsh. While they do that, Lion kneels next to his child, hands awkwardly hovering above them, and tells them that he really didn't mean to do that. He does not apologize but he feels the intense need to make it clear he hadn't meant to go so far. His expression might be stern but inside, Lion is feeling an immense amount of guilt.

-Leman liked to watch as his kid played with the wolves, it reminded him of his own childhood. He chuckled as his little one wrested with one of the younger wolves, one that had only just transitioned from pup to adulthood. His laughter was cut short however when he suddenly heard his child cry out in pain and smelt the scent of blood. By the time he's made his way over to his child, the wolf have already released its hold on their arm and is backing away slowly, tail between its legs and looking guilty.

Kneeling, Leman turned his child this way and that way, checking them for injuries and hissing softly when he saw the bite-wound on their shoulder. Fairly deep, judging by the marks and amount of blood. He doesn't blame the wolf though, he can see that it didn't mean to hurt his child, that it had been an accident. Leman picks up his little one and tells them they are going to be alright as he brings them to the apothecary. And hey, if they're lucky then they'll get some nice battle scars from this! This makes his child laugh, momentarily forgetting the pain.

-Jaghatai is not there when it happens. He's in a far away system, fighting a campaign together with his White Scars. It's only when he returns back to Chogoris that he's informed that while he was away, his child tried to tame a wild horse and unfortunately fell off its back and broke their leg. Jaghatai asks the apothecary a couple of questions, mostly about the extent of the injury and how well it's healing, but he's very calm about it all. Except the broken leg, his child is apparently unharmed so there's no reason for him to fuss or overreact. Besides, this is a good lesson for them. This way, they are reminded that just because they are bigger and stronger than other children, they are not invincible.

Visits his child and can't help but smirk when he sees them sulking on their bed, arms crossed and glaring at their broken leg, which is surrounded by a cast. When they see his smile, his child throws a pillow at him, which Jaghatai dodges with no problem. He tells his child to use this time of healing to learn patience, at which they huff pout. It makes Jaghatai smile even wider and he ruffles their hair affectionately.

-Roboute thought his child would be safe in their home. Far away from the horrors of the galaxy, far away from war and bloodshed. He never would have expected it to follow him home. But here he is, cradling his child in his arms, applying pressure to a wound that just won't stop bleeding. The assassin lays dead a few feet away, head crushed by one of Roboute's large hands, but his focus is entirely on his child. Why won't the bleeding stop? Why is there so much blood? Why is it taking so long for help to arrive?

When the apothecaries take over, Roboutes hands are covered with the blood of his child. Even when he washes them, the feeling won't go away. As the apothecaries work hard to save the life of his child, Roboute works equally hard to track down who sent the assassin. It's the only thing he can do, the only thing that can distract him from the anguish and hatred deep inside of him. He can't allow himself to succumb to it or else his child won't recognize him if- when they wake up from surgery. They will make it, he know they will. They are strong, stronger than he could ever hope to be.

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thethronezone · 3 days ago

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i am loving the primarch fathers series! any chance you can come up with ideas when their child grows into their rebellious teenage phase?

When Mortarion's child starts acting up, there's no shouting. No long arguments dragging on until they are both screaming their heads off. Instead, he ignored them. Sure, he might send them to their personal chambers or give them more training exercises as punishment, but not once does he raise his voice at them. In fact, the more they rebel and talk back, the less he talks to them. Mortarion distances himself, hoping that by giving them space, they will eventually calm down on their own. He doesn't realize how abandoned they end up feeling. They think he no longer cares about them.

Fulgrim does not understand why his child is suddenly being so difficult. They used to happily follow him around, listen to his every word and did as he said without question. Things had been good. But something has changed. Where before they had sought his time, his attention, it was now as if they were now avoiding him. And when Fulgrim takes them with him to events, they looked downright frustrated, radiating a thinly veiled aura of annoyance. They don't even show him their art anymore! He likes their art. Fulgrim gets frustrated and even angry when they act up, mostly because he just does not understand why they are suddenly distancing themself from him.

So. Much. Shouting. Angron does not want to lay hands on his kid but when they talk back, when they don't listen to him, his temper flares as the nails in his head urges him to violence and the only way to release some of the pressure is to shout. And his kid shouts right back, unafraid of him. Part of Angron can't help but feel a bit proud, even as his face twists into a snarl. Because while they might argue, fight, his kid trusts him. They are not afraid of him. 'Old man' they call him and while it's disrespectful, Angron much prefers it to being called a butcherer or a monster.

It takes a while for Magnus to realize that his child is deliberately skipping lessons. One or two missed can be excused, but when a dozen? Something has to be going on. But when he questions them, they don't have an answer. At least not an answer that Magnus accepts and he tells them as such. This leads to an argument and before Magnus knows it, his child is storming away, their psychic presence practically a storm of negative feelings. And for once, Magnus is utterly clueless as to just what he did wrong.

Perturabo is furious. He's a perfectionist that demands obedience and so, when his child starts talking back and rebelling against him, it feels like a personal insult. A grievous slight. So, in retaliation, he becomes even harsher on them. Perturabo doesn't let up on them even once, every day is scheduled and they are watched by space marines and serfs alike that will immediately report to him if they step out of line. The relationship Perturabo has with his child becomes outright antagonistic at points as he does his best to break them down so he can build them up again into something proper.

Neither Alpharius nor Omegon can be described as "helicopter parents" but that doesn't mean that the child can't feel smothered all the same. Privacy, true privacy, is very rare, as both the Primarchs have the intense need to know everything. The child rebells and acts out because they feel like they constantly being watched and have no real personal freedom. Alpharius and Omegon try to give them space but they just can't let up on their old habits, which makes the kid feel even more frustrated.

Once upon a time, Lorgar's child would listen intently and with wide eyes as he told them about the divine. So eager to learn, to follow in his footsteps. But as they got older, they started to... lose interest. Lorgar only really started to worry though when they outright started to question their faith, question the existence of the holy. He tries to be patient, tries to keep their faith alive but it grates on him, frustrates him, when they refuse to listen. Still, he's determined to see this through and is confident that this is but a phase, a test for both of them and in the end they will remain a firm believer, just like him.

Horus is used to being liked, especially by those he considers family. He's his father's favorite son, the responsible older brother, the caring father. But recently, the one who used to adore him the most, his very own child, have started to act like they can't stand him. They roll their eyes when he speaks, they barely engages in conversation with him and then prefer to stay cooped up in their room rather than spend time with their father. Horus does not understand, can't relate or compare this to anything he's ever gone through. Ends up invading upon his child's space and privacy in his attempts to close this growing gap between them, something that only serves to frustrate them more.

Konrad does not handle it well. He's always been protective of his child, kept them close and in a place where he knows they'll be safe. To others, it might have seemed excessive, almost smothering, but Konrad had seen it as a necessity. When his child had been little, they accepted this as just another part of life, not knowing anything else, but now that they've started to grow up... they want more. They are no longer satisfied with the carefully gilded cage their father have built around them. Konrad, in an almost desperate effort to keep them safe, tries to limit their freedom, tries to stop them from leaving. This, of course, his child does not like. Not when they have heard about the world outside that's so close they can almost taste it. So they argue, they fight and the whole time, Konrad feels like he's losing the one good thing in his life. It makes him dig his claws in harder in a desperate attempt to keep them safe.

It's hard for Sanguinius. On one hand, he doesn't want to control his child, make them feel like he's smothering them. They are growing up and they won't be his little one forever. He needs to accept that. But on the other, Sanguinius doesn't want to let go. It's selfish of him but the thought of them leaving the nest one day, it scares him. What if he loses them? What if they leave and decide to never come back? Sanguinius has foreseen his own death but the thought of drifting away from his child scares him more than any vision of the future ever could.

Corvus notices the change immediately but rather than trying to do something about it, rather than talking with his child, he withdraws. Part of him understands that this is just a natural part of growing up but the rest of him feels, for the lack of a better word, hurt. He's always had this close bond with his child, this deep understanding, and seeing it seemingly fray and whittle away is near unbearable to him. But Corvus feels like there's nothing he can do to stop it, that it was inevitable, so he withdraws, stops spending as much time with his child, barely even talking to them. He watches them from a distance instead, waiting for them to make the first move to reconnect.

Ferrus has prepared for this moment. Kinda. If by prepared you mean 'send the kid away for proper training until they calm down' then yeah, he prepared. His kid either goes to learn under the adeptus Mechanicus or they start their space marine training. This is basically the modern equivalent to sending your kid to boarding school for a few years. It's for their own good but Ferrus won't lie and say that avoiding the problem played no part in this decision. He knows he's not good with the more emotional aspect of parenting so not trying is better than trying, right? Right?

Now, contrary to what some might assume, Rogal went through a rebellious phase when he was of similar age to his child. Granted, his 'rebellious' acts consisted of staying up late to finish his blueprints and engaging in arguments with construction workers regarding work efficiency and safety. Nonetheless, Rogal understands on some level what his child is going through which makes him more lenient. He still disciplines them when they act out but he also gives them more freedoms compared to before because he knows that, while rebellious, they are also becoming more mature and responsible.

In Vulkan's eyes, his child will always be just that; a child. HIS child. His little one. They might grow up big and strong but he can't help it, whenever he looks at them he sees the child that demanded stories before bedtime and struggled to pick up his tools. So even when they act out, even when they backtalk and act like the grouchy teenager they are, he doesn't get mad. Maybe a tad disappointed at times but he always gets over it. Endlessly patient with them but his seeming refusal to take their tantrums seriously makes his child feel frustrated, especially when the only thing they want is a reaction.

Lion thought that parenting would get easier as his child got older. Children are... messy. Nonsensical. Driven purely by emotion and whim. As hard as Lion had worked to instill discipline and order into his child from an early age, he had assumed that it would all pay off in the end. That they would act like an El'Jonson. Instead, they had gotten mouthy. Rebellious. They challenged everything he said, ignored what they didn't like, disobeyed clear orders. Yet no matter how hard Lion tried to discipline them, what punishments he dealt them for their insubordination, it never seemed to stick. If anything, it only made them worse. But Lion is just as, if not more, stubborn than them and refuses to back down. So, the fights continue.

At first Leman finds it funny. Aww, look at his lil pup, growing up and being all angsty about it. How cute! It becomes less cute when, after an intense argument, he's got them in a headlock because they tried to bite his nose off. Still, Leman has the opinion and belief that, the best way to work through all these developing feelings of theirs is through some good old character building. By that he means dropping in the Fenrisian wilds and letting them fend for themself for a while. Might seem a bit extreme to some but Leman did it when he was their age and he turned out just fine!

Jaghatai, while he doesn't take any disrespect, is actually quite alright with his kid growing into this phase. He understands that this is a crucial moment in their development, when they form an integral sense of self, and they can't do that if he coddles or hover over them. They need space. So, he mostly lets them run free, though he does set a clear line of boundaries that he expects them not to cross, make it clear that they are responsible for the consequences of their actions and that he wants them to still behave with dignity. That means no whining or brooding in the mess hall!

The moment Roboute realizes that his kid is entering their rebellious teen phase, he goes straight to mama Euten and papa Konor and asks them for advice. Because he tried to discipline his child after they ditched their lessons to spend time with their friends but all they did was repeat what he said with a mocking tone. It completely caught him off guard. Like, how does he respond to that? Roboute is so awkward around his kid during this period of time but he genuinely tries to understand them.

#warhammer 40k #konrad curze #fulgrim #lion el'jonson #perturabo #sanguinius #rogal dorn #mortarion #horus lupercal #lorgar aurelian #jaghatai khan #magnus #corvus corax #vulkan #roboute guilliman #angron #leman russ #ferrus manus #alpharius omegon

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