#mfer awoke something in me

[zhainee]

so what if i resurrect this art blog with year old sketches of my dearest wife loewe

it's been a year of loving him me thinks its only fitting

[aqua-the-smiter]

Part 6 mfers, sorry this took so long Cato Sicarius x female reader Divider by @squishyowl Song - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3q63sILptUs

Cato awoke to a soft apothecarium cot underneath him and the sweet scent of flowers. It was warm under the covers. His limbs felt leaden and the sleepiness didn't abate like it usually did. Sedatives then. Nothing hurt either, which meant the analgesics he must have been pumped with were something else. He could feel a pressure on his chest. Lifting the white sheets and looking down, he could see a lump of bandages.

On the small table next to him was a cup of water and a vase full of different flowers. Alongside these was a stack of notes, some hastily scribbled while others took up several sheets of parchment. Late afternoon light filtered in from some window or other. He tried to sit up and quickly decided that could wait for a bit long with a groan.

"Cato?"

He turned his head to see you nearly running back into the room. Sitting yourself down in a chair by his bedside.

"Peahen."

"By the throne." You said in a choked whisper, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. it was all your could do to not break into tears right there and then. "You're ok!"

Slowly, he put an arm around you and squeezed gently. "Of course I am. How long have I been out? Is Melor alright?"

"You get stabbed in the chest and still your duty is the first thing you think about when you wake up." You kissed his cheek.

"He is far more than just my duty, Peahen."

"I know, I know. Thankfully the little guy is just fine. A bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed. It's been three days."

He laid back. "Then all is well. What happened since?"

"The Primarch has tightened security around the whole Fortress, but that's probably obvious. That Word Bearer who turned on his comrades was given over to the Redeemed."

"That is good to hear. He seemed decent."

You reached over and grabbed the stack of notes. "He left you one in here somewhere beforehand."

Cato took them and began to shuffle through them, skimming the contents. They were letters from his battle brothers. Well wishes, congratulations. Even a few apologies. He found one that was just a single sheet, the oddly spiky handwriting suggesting that the author was not quite used to writing in Gothic.

Thank you for allowing me the chance to redeem some of my sin. That boy will love you like a brother for all of his days. - Robavam

There were others. He found ones from Calgar, Ventris, Titus, and several other officers. Practically all his comrades in the Victrix had written one. Some from regular marines, some from neophytes. Even some of the Redeemed had sent their wishes. He laid back after reading a few. There was an odd feeling in his heart that he couldn't put his finger on.

You resisted the urge to lay your head on his chest. Instead you cradled his head in your arms, stroking his hair.

"You were so brave Cato. So, so brave. You know there's pict recordings of your fight? Security footage. The Primarch let me see them after everything was reviewed. And lucky too. They had to bring the Redeemed's chief apothecary here to help patch you up. Now the whole place smells like flowers."

"I can see that." He poked the bandage on his chest. "But it was not anything special.

"You killed six Chaos Astartes and a terminator. How is that nothing? Don't undercut yourself." You chided him gently, kissing his cheek. "You're a hero."

"So it would seem."

"You are!"

Cato didn't look convinced, and changed the subject. "Since you seem to be well informed, Peahen, do you know how long I'm to be here?"

You flushed a bit. "Well...someone had to look after you while you were out. The apothecaries told me I could tell you since I've been here the whole time. The sword went in deep, poked a lung but missed both your hearts thankfully. You're healing up nicely thanks to Apothecary Asphodelus, but you're supposed to stay here for a few more days just so you can be monitored."

He let out a small, hollow laugh. "Just a little to the left and it probably would have killed me. The Primarch must have been disappointed."

"Lord Guilliman is extremely proud of you!"

"I'm sure he is."

"Cato!"

"What?"

"What's with the cynicism? You did good." You stroked his cheek in a mollifying gesture. He huffed like a dissatisfied dog.

"I didn't do anything special. I just did what was expected. Of course I would have either way, I would never just sit by and let Melor be harmed or killed." Just the thought of it made him feel slightly sick. "But it was my duty regardless."

"I think you went a little above and beyond. You would have been expected to get Melor out of danger, not kill six marines and a terminator solo with a massive wound. You're undercutting yourself."

He sighed. "Maybe. I am just happy that he's safe."

That I didn't fail.

In that moment it hadn't mattered what anyone thought of him, or how he thought of himself. All that had mattered was that Melor's tiny life was at stake, and that he had been the only one standing between it and the boy's enemies. Everything had dissolved. It didn't matter how he was perceived. A failure, an egoist, arrogant, a sexist, a weak leader, whatever. He had done his duty. He knew the truth about what and who he was, even through the screams and pipe organ music that haunted his memories. That was enough for him.

Wasn't that all that really mattered in the end?

You felt him relax in your embrace, and you ran your fingers through his hair. Letting him drift off back to sleep in your arms again. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ The Primarch came to see his gene-son later that day, bringing a special someone along with him.

Cato was awake again when he came in, Melor cradled in one arm. His golden eyes lit up when he saw the Ultramarine. He cooed happily, reaching out with his arms and making grabby hands at him. He was surprised at that. The boy seemed too young to recognize him so easily, and with such enthusiasm.

Guilliman didn't seem surprised. He smiled at the scene before addressing Cato. "It is good to see you well. I was worried I had lost you for a while."

He tried to conjure up something confident and snarky to say and found that he couldn't. "I fully expected to die that night. The fact I did not is nothing short of a miracle."

"All the same, I am quite glad you're still with us. It would have been a devastating loss. Not just for me either."

Melor continued making grabby hands at his cousin, and was started to get fidgety. You watched the scene with amusement.

"Is he alright?" Cato asked.

"Just fine. He wants to be with you for a little while I think. Would you mind?"

"I could hold him for a bit." He agreed, masking his apprehension.

The boy was handed over in short order. Cato cradled him in his arms the way he'd seen you and Primarch doing. He weighed practically nothing. So light and fragile. Melor reached up a tiny hand to him and tangled it in his beard, giggling.

"Aren't you a little young for mischief?" Cato asked, the question directed as much to Roboute as to Melor.

Guilliman picked up on his suspicious. "He is...unique."

"He would be, wouldn't he?"

You patted his cheek as he untangled Melor's tiny fist from his beard. "Oh come off it Cato. Look at him, he likes you."

"Which is also unusual."

"He's the son of a Primarch." You reminded him. "Of course he'll be a little unusual."

Sicarius looked like he wanted to argue with you but dropped it, turning his attention back to Melor. To your surprise, the Primarch shot you a grateful look, which you decided not to question. Whatever was strange about the boy, it was probably best not to question. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Cato was back on his feet and out of the medicae in another three days, although under strict orders to go easy for a while longer. He was functional, but not healed. The process was slower, both because the wound was quite deep and because it seemed the sword had been covered in a mild poison of some sort. Thus his recovery would take more time, and he was relegated to light training and paperwork.

He was not prepared for the reception he received when he was finally walking the halls of the Fortress of Hera again.

There had been distance. Respect for sure, but he could tell there was a warmth gone. His reputation had proceeded him for the most part. Not anymore.

There were hushed, awed whispers as he passed by. Serfs and Astartes alike stopped and saluted him. There was genuine admiration from his battle brothers now. Real, deep respect. Neophytes and scouts would nervously approach him during drills, asking for advise. Before he had felt like the Primarch's disappointing side project. Now he was being lauded as a hero.

It was like everyone had finally divorced the version of him they had in their heads, and come to realize the version of him that truly existed. The two different people that had been running around since his return from the Emperor's Will had become one again.

That didn't mean all was well though.

In truth he felt disdainful now. It had taken his near death to alleviate himself of their scorn. Like the Emperor's Will wasn't enough. Nothing he had done since had been fucking enough. Not only was he haunted by the screams of his dead and dying, but of their disapproval as well. It left a bitter stickiness in his throat whenever he thought about it. He had never been one for self pity. This just made his angry. Why did he have to prove himself when he'd already done so more times than he could count? Why did he have to shed his own blood and come on bended knee for them to see he had repented from his younger years? Why did he have to repent for them at all? As if others hadn't done a thousand times worse.

The exception was you, of course. You were always the exception. You were the light in his life.

Guardianship over Melor had been temporarily passed to a few different Ultramarines on a rotating schedule. Among there were Uriel and Demetrian, although Cato wasn't off the hook with him either. Instead spending time with the boy when he had a spare moment. It gave him a convenient audience for his bitterness.

"I'm like you now." Cato said. He was sitting cross legged on the floor, shaking a rattle for Melor. He giggled, his tiny hands reaching out for it.

"How so?" Titus asked. He was standing in front of the door, back to his brother, one hand on his chainsword. "Did you cross the Rubicon while I wasn't looking?" He joked.

Cato snorted. "Of course not. I mean everyone thinks I'm a hero now."

"Are you not? You nearly died saving the little one."

"I suppose so. I am just jaded about it. Instead of earning the title by cutting through hordes of orks and swarms of Tyranids, or tearing my way across a daemon infested planet like Caedo, or everything that Ventris did, I get it by being stabbed in the chest and killing seven enemies."

"You already had a good reputation before then." Titus reassured. "This was special."

"My reputation was lying beaten and bloody on the floor before this."

His expression knitted into a frown. "It was not that bad, Cato. You had some blunders, but it is as the Chapter Master said. No leader of men has only victories."

"And you really believe that, do you?" Cato scoffed. "You don't have to lie to spare my feelings Titus. You're too good of a man for that."

"Do not tell me you saved Melor only for your reputation."

"Of course not! I...care for the boy." He admitted. "He is our cousin. And the last of Lord Ferrus Manus's legacy."

"Then what has made you so bitter?"

"Why like this? Nothing else I did matters. Why does all the rest of my suffering mean nothing!? I have been at the sharp end for years. I have been brought to my knees time and time again, but all of that is forgotten. I have been humbled so thoroughly that only by nearly dying, and not for the first bloody time, did anyone remember who I actually am. The wraith going around wearing my name is finally banished."

Titus didn't respond, but he turned to look at Cato, and his expression was pained. Sicarius didn't see it, too occupied with Melor.

He didn't mind coming to see the boy. There was definitely an affection for the boy, born of their kinship. Melor was, after all, his cousin. But the more time he spent with him, the more he realized just how strange he was.

It wasn't anything big. More a series of small oddities that added up. He was a normal baby in nearly every way. Which made the ways that he wasn't stand out all the more. There was his recognition of Cato, for example. His golden eyes lit up when he saw his cousin. Easily picking him out even without his helmet on. Beyond that, even. He always seemed to relax around him. Like he felt safe with him.

The other thing that really tipped him off was his unusual strength, which was usually demonstrated when someone tried to take a toy from Melor's little hands. For example, he had been gifted an old plush toy that had once been Primarch Guilliman's when he had been a child, a fact that boggled Cato's mind to think about. It was a pegasus, soft white with a fluffy mane and tail, shimmery wings, and a dove gray muzzle. He adored it, and would cuddle and roll all over it. Good luck trying to take it from him when it was nap time, however. You'd end up in a surprisingly even tug of war. What's more, Cato always got the impression that Melor was holding back because he didn't want to damage the thing. Which was more brainpower than any barely-over-a-month old should have.

But he acted just like a normal baby in every other regard. He was a normal baby, just with a few quirks.

Still, it was clear there was much the Primarch hadn't told him.

"With all due respect my lord, there is something you neglected to tell me about Melor, isn't there?" Cato said, before Roboute could get a word out.

He sighed, shifting the topic of conversation in his arms so his head was resting more comfortably. Cato probably had a gut feeling this conversation was supposed to be about him and was trying to prevent it before it even started. Still, if he'd already figured it out anywhere, there wasn't much to be gained by hiding it.

"I know what you're trying to do." Guilliman replied. "But you are correct. I felt it was not information that needed to be shared. Since you are at least somewhat aware of it, I will tell you. Given enough time, you would probably figure it out on your own anyway."

"He's...alright, isn't he?"

"Of course he is. He is just...well, he's unusual. You see, by some miracle, he is a full blooded Primarch."

Sicarius's eyes widened. "What? How?"

Guilliman sighed. "I don't know. Ferrus doesn't know. As near as either of us can figure, my brother simply got incredibly lucky with the boy's genes. I have a feeling the only person who could tell us for certain is the Emperor, and I am not bringing Melor anywhere near him."

His face scrunched in a pained frown with memory for a moment before relaxing.

"That's why he recognizes me then? Why he seems much stronger than he should be? That's why the Word Bearers came."

"Yes." He nodded. "I don't think they knew either, but they knew he was different. They knew enough to deduce he could be a threat one day."

"Is he doing alright? He was very shaken when I found him." Cato asked.

"He is young. Some things still linger, but as long as we keep an eye on him, and make sure he feels safe, he will heal just fine from it. that is why I let him be with you so often."

"He feels safe with me?"

"As much as an infant-even an infant Primarch-can register something like that. Make no mistake, he is still only a baby. But you shouldn't be surprised. You nearly gave your life for his. I'm proud of you, and your actions."

"Yes. Despite my injury it seemed to remind everyone that I am not, in fact, a paper general."

"Cato, are you well?" Roboute asked his son.

He sighed. "I am just fine, my lord. It has been a trying week, but I have been through worse. And I am relieved that Melor is alright."

He paused.

"What has Titus been telling you?"

"He has told me enough. He's worried about you. I am too."

"What is there to be concerned about? You know what's wrong with me."

"You seem very...jaded."

"Of course I am!" He threw up his hands. "What else could I be? I have been shouldering the disgust of my own battle brothers for years now, all while my mind is eating itself. And now, after I nearly died, that is what gets them to remember who I was. They're patting me on the back like it was expected I'd try to get myself killed to earn my respect back."

"Do you really believe that's the whole truth, or have you run away with your own bitterness?" Roboute asked him softly.

"...What?"

"I will not sit here and tell you that you have not been dealt an unfair hand. In many aspects you have. Not all of your brothers like you, your reputation definitely has taken many hits. Moreover, your mind has been wounded, deeply. I do not think anyone truly understands how much it has hurt you."

He raised an eyebrow. "I detect a 'but', my lord."

"The whole chapter is not out to get you, Cato. I am not here to hang you out to dry. I don't pity you, I am worried for you. Both for your mind and how you have been handling this whole thing. You are not nearly as despised as you think you are, and your brothers are not congratulating you because they thought you needed to grovel, it's because you saved the life of an innocent baby and Ferrus's only son."

When Cato didn't respond, he continued.

"You know I am very proud of you. There is a war in your mind that you have been fighting alone for years. But I've never seen you falter in your duty. Never waver. You're in pain, but Melor is still alive and safe. You killed six Word Bearers and a terminator solo. Your brothers are proud of you too. It is all I have heard any of them talk about for the last week. They hail you as a hero, not a prodigal who redeemed himself."

Melor squirmed, and started making grabby hands at his cousin. Guilliman held out the little Primarch to his son, who took him hesitantly after a moment.

"Even he knows you did a good job."

"He's too young to know much of anything."

"I have met older men and women who know less." He shook his head. "You've done well, Cato."

Sicarius looked down at Melor, then up at his Primarch, lost for words. "Are you sure?"

"If I was displeased with I would tell you. You are doing just fine, and I wish to see you get better."

Cato nodded, turning the Primarch's words over in his head. It was the kind of encouragement he'd really only heard from you. From Guilliman it took on a whole new meaning. He supposed he had a lot to reevaluate then. Lord Guilliman was many things, but a liar was not one of them. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Are you doing alright, Cato?" You asked him, stroking his hair as he rested his head in your lap.

He thought for a moment, snuggling into your thighs. "Better than I have been."